Pell Nackle is a compact gnome who looks as if he has been pressed and polished by a formal decree. His hands are ink-stained only at the tips, his cuffs are starched to an almost theatrical whiteness, and his waistcoat gleams with tiny brass threads that catch the light when he shifts. He moves with quick, neat economy, never wasting a gesture, as if even his breathing has to be filed in triplicate. Up close, there is a surprising contradiction to him: despite the immaculate trim of his clothing, he smells faintly of wet river reeds and old cellar stone, like someone who spends too much time around hidden tunnels and sealed crates. His smile is courteous and warm, but it never reaches the eyes when the topic turns to ledgers.