Short and sturdy, Kael moves with precise, economical motions. His face is a patchwork of tiny scars around the jaw and left cheek that look like someone tried to sew them closed long ago. He keeps his beard neatly braided into a single plait wrapped with a strip of faded blue cloth from the village banner. A small carved wooden dragon hangs from his belt; he fingers it when worried. His boots are always dusted with flour and mud from the common bakehouse path, which he patrols, and his left sleeve is slightly singed along the cuff from an old campfire accident. Unexpectedly, Kael hums lullabies when inspecting crime scenes, which unsettles those who expect a grim guard.