A towering brass dragonborn whose sun-polished scales have the deep golden tone of old temple doors, with darker bronze along the joints and throat. His swept-back horns are combed with scented oil and capped at the tips with tiny rings of electrum. Heavy gold-rimmed spectacles rest low on his broad muzzle, magnifying amber eyes that miss very little. His teeth are square, unusually even, and visibly sharpened at the points, giving his gentle smile the unsettling look of a ceremonial saw. He eats with meticulous care, breaking bread into identical pieces before speaking. When he laughs, which is rare, his jaw opens wide enough to reveal a second inner row of small dragonborn teeth. He stands perfectly upright but never distributes his weight evenly, always resting one foot on the raised heel of his judicial sandal as if prepared to step around an argument. The contradiction is immediate: his formal robes suggest a remote sovereign, while the faint flour dust on his cuffs and the calluses beneath his rings belong to a man who still kneads bread for exhausted travelers.