Fire iron red stains orange and rust. The harshest summer sun asserting itself. Orb in one hand, sceptre or flail in the other, back straight, chest out, chin jutting ever so slightly.
In another species we would say silverback. Here he acts with his obligations and responsibilities, not merely his privileges. Templars follow his lead and the stars obey his word.
Rule through law and order and the sword that remains sheathed for gentility but its presence is well understood.
Sulphur and alchemy under the surface. He is used to the red of fires and bloody conquest having earned his power the old fashioned way. A thousand generations of chieftains and kings before him to lend stability, the way society normally settles down after a period of unrest and weak “leaders.”
