An impossibly tall man for a Pydwyni, standing 10'2" but not hulking — Rhydan's long limbs move with the slow, economical grace of someone who has spent decades matched to the gait of huge horses. His face is narrow and sun-browned, cheekbones like carved driftwood. He keeps a waxed, crisply curled mustache that contrasts with a perpetually smudged thumbprint on the side of his jaw from handling reins and coal-black leather. He wears immaculate high-class carriage-driver attire: a tailored doublet with brass buttons, a long dust-resistant duster that sweeps the road, harnessed gloves with silk lining, and a broad-brimmed felt hat pinned with a tiny silver horseshoe charm. Unexpectedly, his boots are small and neatly polished as if for someone much shorter — an oddity that causes people to look twice. Up close there are faint burn scars across his left forearm, the edges still puckered, and a thin silver thread tattoo curling behind his right ear in Pydwyni script.