“As for the man himself, he was formidable enough. He regarded them levelly as they approached, his dark eyes assessing, his mouth a thin line, giving nothing away. He was of middle height, not strongly built but wiry and lithe-looking. He was the right age, or could be: the hair dark as a crow’s wing, with a thread or two of gray at the temples, the right cheek marked with the same parallel scarring they had seen on the other men, a five-line pattern drawn with neat precision. The robe he wore was not kingly, but of plain wool, its only trim a narrow, patterned border, lighter gray on darker. his hair was tied back with a strip of the same woven braid. The impression was austere.”

From Foxmask

Dougray Scott

Tim Roth


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