Mara Venn has the weathered, capable presence of someone who has spent half her life outdoors despite living in a civic manor. Her face is broad and expressive, marked by fine lines around the eyes and a pale scar that cuts through her left eyebrow. Her hands are square, callused, and usually stained with ink, flour, or river mud. She moves with a slight forward lean, walking quickly without appearing hurried, as though every corridor has a task waiting at its far end. Her clothes are plain but exceptionally well maintained, with wool, waxed linen, polished brass, and sturdy leather softened by years of use. The unexpected contradiction is her hair, which is meticulously braided with tiny silver bells taken from a childhood festival costume. They make almost no sound when she moves, but townsfolk notice when the bells are absent.