Valerius is a towering figure who carries himself with the rigid discipline of a general. His skin is leathered by salt and sun, but his posture is unyieldingly straight. The most jarring element is his throat, which has been replaced by an intricate cage of polished brass, copper pipes, and tiny, puffing valves that hiss rhythmically with every breath. Unexpectedly, he is meticulously groomed; he smells of expensive lavender water and cedar, a sharp contrast to the sulfur and brine of the docks. When he moves, there is a faint mechanical whirr and the clinking of delicate gears buried within his torso.