The last Turczyński. His father hanged by the red sashes east of Voruta for refusing to renounce his title, "I do not serve the will of a mindless mob", and Henryk hanged beside him, until something ten feet tall and wrong cut him down and dealt him cards he has never managed to throw away.
He rode to Castille with his wings, his saber, and a working theory that most problems are improved by cavalry. Events have largely supported him: he demanded the surrender of an Inquisition column to its face, dueled Knight Inquisitor Friedrich to a standstill, and pulled Countess Roswitha von Wirsche out of a circle of salt mid-exorcism, for which a creature older and colder than any noblewoman formally owes him her life.
On the road to the wagon ambush he offered Axel his father's proverb, "If you go looking for revenge, you start by digging two graves", and got the only reply Axel was ever going to give: "Best get digging." He dug.
Honor demands that I ride forth in the vanguard. God wills it.
He is white-cause Sarmatian to the marrow, which matters, because Sarmatia keeps sending him countrymen: a lord in white met at a ball, a man in red who challenged him in the street. The quarrel is not finished. With Sarmatians it never is.