Dmitri

As you start across the courtyard your eyes are drawn to a figure on the far side. Dressed in a uniform of dark red and white, he is deep in conversation with several subordinates, his words punctuated with expressive gestures. You gather that he is somehow not pleased with their performance.

You are no more than half-way across the practice field when he suddenly stiffens and turns toward you. Sharp grey eyes set into a weathered face watch your approach; short black hair is ruffled by the wind as he moves to intercept you, his expression carefully neutral. His hand never strays near the heavy sword at his waist, but somehow that doesn't make you feel any safer.

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