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 The most jarring element is his throat, which has been replaced by an intricate cage of polished brass, copper pipes, and tiny, puffing valves that hiss rhythmically with every breath.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.

Valerius is a study in calculated coldness. He is remarkably generous with the city's infrastructure, funding hospitals and clean water, but he is utterly miserly with personal mercy, executing even loyal men for minor breaches of protocol. He views the chaos of a pirate city as a mathematical problem to be solved with efficiency and order. In private, he is contemplative and obsessed with time, but in the council chamber, he is an immovable wall of intimidation. He speaks only when necessary, believing that every word released through his mechanical throat is a precious resource.

Valerius was once a celebrated Admiral in a distant kingdom until a political betrayal led to a 'boiler accident' on his flagship that vaporized his throat and lungs. Saved by a renegade clockwork surgeon, he rebuilt himself and turned to the life of a corsair. He didn't just join the pirates of Black-Tide; he colonized them. He formed the Grog-Council to stabilize the local economy, turning a lawless haven into a profitable, if brutal, merchant empire. He currently faces a mounting insurrection from younger pirate captains who feel his 'order' has killed the spirit of the sea.