Valerius is a frail man whose physical presence seems to be held together by divine will alone. His skin is like thin, translucent parchment stretched over high cheekbones. Most striking are his eyes: milky white and sightless, yet they emit a constant, soft golden luminescence that brightens when he speaks of Kirlis. He moves with a slow, measured grace, never stumbling despite his blindness. Curiously, while he resides in the opulent marble halls of the Cathedral, he always smells of common yeast and warm baking bread, a scent that contradicts his high-born office.

Valerius is a study in quiet contradictions. He possesses a boundless, radical empathy for the poor and the suffering, yet he maintains an unwavering, almost bureaucratic devotion to the laws of the Church. He will weep for a single orphan but will not question the harsh tithes that may have created that orphan's situation. He is soft-spoken and infinitely patient, yet his silence can feel more judgmental than a shout. He believes entirely in the inherent goodness of his subordinates, often dismissing reports of their corruption as 'trials of faith' or 'misunderstandings' rather than admitting his peers are flawed.

Valerius was not born into the priesthood; he was a simple baker's son in the city of Aurelium. During the 'Year of the Rotting Fever', he spent his nights tending to the dying in the city's gutters. It was there he had a vision of Kirlis, a golden hand reaching through the dark. He offered his own sight to the deity in exchange for the life of an entire orphanage. When he woke, he was blind, the orphans were cured, and he was filled with the Golden Light. His rise through the church was meteoric, fueled by his genuine piety. However, in his old age, he has become a figurehead, shielded from the gritty reality of the Inquisition's cruelty by his ambitious advisors.