Valerius stands with the rigid, unnerving posture of a man who expects the ground to swallow him. His skin is the texture of salt-cured leather, mapped with deep creases from decades of gale-force winds. His most striking feature is the unsettling contrast between his impeccably groomed, silver-white beard and the frantic, bloodshot intensity of his eyes. While his movements are sharp and authoritative, he frequently tilts his head toward the harbor as if listening to a distant whisper. Beneath the stiff, velvet collar of his midnight-blue uniform, iridescent scales the color of a drowning ocean shimmer intermittently, pulsing with a faint, bioluminescent light that clashes with his human frailty.