Master Halvek Dorn is a broad, weathered man with the compact density of an old oak stump and the careful balance of someone who has spent half a lifetime on moving wagon beds. His skin is copper-brown from forge heat and open roads, textured with fine burns that look like dark ink beneath the surface. His iron-gray hair is braided into three short cords, each tied with a different brass washer. His beard is trimmed square at the jaw but left long beneath the chin, where it has been singed into a permanent curl. He moves slowly until something threatens his shop, at which point he becomes startlingly quick, pivoting with the smooth economy of a duelist. His hands are scarred, blunt-fingered, and astonishingly gentle with frightened animals. The contradictory impression he leaves is of a man built like a siege engine who handles every finished blade as if it were a sleeping infant.