Marek is a wiry kobold with rain-dark scales dulled by salt and age, each scale edged in the dusty plum stain of spilled wine. He moves with the quick, careful shuffle of someone always counting steps and debts, yet his left eye is trimmed in a neat line of gold wire, a tiny jeweler's repair that makes him look almost refined from a distance. His snout is narrow and sharp, but his nose has been bruised and reset so many times that it bends slightly sideways. He wears a threadbare merchant's coat that once belonged to a human, tailored down and patched with sailcloth, and the coat's inner lining is lined with hidden pockets and wax-sealed receipts. The unexpected thing about him is the immaculate white silk scarf at his throat, kept absurdly clean as if it were a matter of pride rather than vanity.