He is known to not speak much about himself, yet the little details he does give away always lead others to believe he is an open book that has nothing to hide. Over time, his charming, youthful attitude has faded away, now replaced with something fatherly and warm.
Even now, after years and years, he has managed to keep doing this. No matter if it is a little harder, a little tougher, to do so.
With socialization skills that have long been honed and thoroughly developed due to a life that revolved around politics, he can speak faux words as easily as he can walk. However, the same cannot be said for words that are a shade truer, for those always result in him stumbling about and hesitating.
He emits an independent, confident aura, but this is counteracted by his aged and kind face. This covers something deeper, though — a hidden layer that was drilled into him at a young age, one built for obeying and complying. It is a hidden thing that is so ingrained into who he is that he is rather passive more often than not and rather docile.
Diplomatic and tending to go for a more non-confrontational approach (as one should at his age anyway), this still does not mean that he is not determined, nor stubborn. It is those two specific traits that have gotten him through much, after all. Along with these two traits, his time training as a soldier has also planted something inside of him that has slumbered for years now.
Underneath all of this, there is another side reserved only for those he considers his (whether they know it or not). For those that are his family, his loved ones, there is a side that involves affectionate bumping, teasing, kind smiles, and gentle encouragement. A genuinely caring and wise man, he remains completely loyal to those in his small circle.
There are lands were individuals naturally born with sorcery in their veins are rare. These individuals, once discovered, are immediately seen as cursed and something to be exploited. So, one must take them while they are young so that they will have their undivided loyalty in the future. This is why, upon learning that Avallac'h had an affinity for such arts, the Crown came for him and his mother allowed it. It was his magic, something he had been born with, that made him a prisoner so early on in life.
He became enslaved, chained and tethered to the Court. His living arrangements were certainly better than they had been at home, but a cage is still a cage no matter how dazzling it may appear. Being thrown into quarters where he lived among those both with - and without - sorcery, he was put to work immediately. Starting out, he was left to do the more mundane tasks (something befitting a young child), learning how to better his talent on the side thank to the help of other enslaved mages. It was not long, though, that he was soon considered mature enough to take on more mature tasks, ones that involved him becoming a personal servant to visiting delegates and diplomats of the Court.
Regardless of his work he was still a sheep, following orders without question — the perfect servant.
The time came when another night had passed, one that involved him being in the company of drunk diplomats. It was there, swathed in silk and giving fake laughs, that he came to a decision: he'd not remain in this position any longer. No more would he be told to obey and kneel simply because he had sorcery running through his blood. This is where sharing the company of such influential individuals had its perks, and with flattering gestures, well-placed words, and doubts, he soon found himself slowly working up and away from a lowly servant and toward something more valuable.
He would show them that he was not some cursed fool.
Despite this change, though, he still was not satisfied. Now holding a more admirable position, with better food, drink, and a place to stay, it wasn't what he wanted. None of it had been what he wanted, but it would do for the time being. Just so long as it got him away from where he was before. (Not once did he think about the friends he left below, but the thoughts of them would come to haunt him in the future).
He could never escape what he was, though, and that was made clear when the war came. Word of it had been floating through the Court for some time already, and Avallac'h had thought himself safe, but he was quickly proven wrong. After adamantly trying to dissuade the Crown from partaking in such a foolish thing he was commanded to go and fight. He argued with all he had, but a gruesome "You owe the Crown your life," is all they had to say for him to know it was no use. And so it was decided. He would fight. No matter what position he had gained his magic was an asset that they needed on the battlefield.
He trained with the rest of the mages, more fit and well-fed, and then he was deployed.
It was not clean nor quick — the war was long and taxing. Those involved faced many trials. Many never returned, while others never came to speak of what they faced once back. Avallac'h had done things that, to this day, he is not proud of nor keen on speaking about either.
At the end of it all, Avallac'h found that he never knew who had won.
Once again, just like when he was a child, Avallac'h found that it was due to the Crown and his sorcery that he had been placed somewhere he didn't want to be. Because of this, after the war that something new sparked inside, flaring at the thought of the Crown. Returning with cursed and gruesome wounds on his leg that had him sick with fever, he remained only long enough for the healers to figure out something.
Then, he left.
Never again would he allow another to force him into using his sorcery for such a thing; never again would he let himself be put into such a vulnerable position. He fled in the middle of the night, unbeknownst to the rest of the Court, leaving all he knew with a flash of his cloak. He had learned his lesson, and he would not partake in any wars or follow another ever again