Eber has the compact, broad-shouldered shape common in his Stout-descended craft family, but he carries himself as if balancing a bowl on his ribs. When waiting, he sets his weight forward over the balls of his feet, ready to step toward whoever is speaking rather than lean back from them. He smells unmistakably of toasted barley, crushed mint, and the clean, damp mineral scent of the smooth pebbles kept in his meal kit. He knows the scent clings to his clothes and refuses to apologize for it. His face is open and intent; his movements are measured, not frail, with the deliberate precision of someone who has learned to make each swallow count.

Eber is warm with people who meet him plainly, yet exacting with anyone who tries to turn his needs into a public lesson without his consent. He loves the certainty of craft and the messy company of a shared table, but he can grow impatient when people require repeated proof before offering basic consideration. In private, he is more playful and more uncertain than he appears at a meeting; after a public confrontation, he may need quiet time before he can be generous again.

The Waldners have shaped pots, hinge pins, and fine tool handles in the riverside district of Sedgeback for generations. Their Stout-descended craft traditions prize patient hands and dependable work, and Eber grew up learning to sort a good rivet by sound before he could reach the forge bellows. His coming-of-age meal was meant to be a family feast. Instead, he found that ordinary food would not pass safely through his body. His family rallied around him, and after weeks of experiments with soft meals and carefully chosen smooth pebbles, he found a way to eat without pain. The news spread beyond the family workshop. Some neighbors offered help; others treated his meals as a spectacle or questioned whether his needs were real. Eber began inviting people to watch the preparation, turning private necessity into a public test of whether the community could make room for a body unlike its own. His mother, Delya, keeps the family workshop running and supports him without fuss. His younger cousin, Ivo, builds little tools for sorting and cleaning the pebbles. Eber is grateful to both, but chafes when they answer questions on his behalf. His current dispute is with the local feast committee, which has refused to make a separate safe serving station for the annual craft fair, calling it too much trouble for one guest. Eber wants the accommodation, but also wants to keep the family workshop from becoming a permanent stage for his private life. He has begun drafting a practical guide for kitchens and inns, while worrying that strangers will reduce him to a lesson rather than meet him as a person.