Sira is a tall brass dragonborn woman with fine scales polished to the warm sheen of burnished copper. Her amber eyes are sharp and constantly measuring, magnified slightly behind delicate rectangular wire-frame spectacles. Long horns sweep backward beneath a tight geometric sheath of bronze, each segment engraved with a different clause from the founding charter of House Austra-Cleth. She moves with economical precision, never quite walking in a straight line because she is always angling herself toward the room's exits, witnesses, and sources of light. Her hands are unusually memorable: the claws have been filed smooth from decades of turning parchment, and the pads of her fingers are darkened by archival dust that no cleansing spell ever completely removes. She stands perfectly upright while presiding, yet when forced to wait she places all her weight on one heel and lightly taps the iron register against her opposite wrist. The contradictory impression is striking: she looks like an immaculate icon of solar authority, but carries herself like a tired clerk who has spent too many nights hiding in record rooms.