Gunther's face is a broad, softly shifting arrangement of features, as if someone had sculpted a person from wax and kept changing their mind. He holds one familiar face for customers, with a blunt nose, deep smile-lines, and a chin that seems to settle differently each time he laughs. His skin has the matte, faintly pebbled texture of damp birch bark. He is painstakingly groomed: his hair is combed into precise ridges, and he trims the moss on his clothes into neat little terraces. Yet he takes up far more space than his small frame ought to, spreading bolts of fabric, baskets, and conversation around himself without noticing when others are crowded to the edge. The unexpected detail is that he wears a tiny, carefully polished brass thimble on a cord around his neck, a keepsake from his years in Arcadia.

Gunther is generous with practical help but guarded about personal history. He likes a lively market and will happily talk through another person's problems, yet becomes evasive when the conversation turns to his own. He can be painstaking and orderly about his wares, then impulsively give away a needed item to someone who looks cold. In a relaxed mood he is expansive and teasing; under pressure he becomes brisk, literal, and suspicious of vague promises.

Gunther spent most of his existence in Arcadia, where he learned to cultivate and sell moss-cloth: fabric woven from resilient moss fibers and treated to keep its softness without growing wild. He remembers the place as beautiful, orderly, and perilously exacting. A careless promise could become a binding obligation; a friendly invitation could mean a season of service. His turning point came when a customer asked him to make a child's winter wrap, then vanished before paying. Gunther covered the cost himself and discovered that choosing a small kindness, freely given, mattered more to him than keeping every bargain perfectly balanced. He eventually left Arcadia with his stock, his thimble, and a habit of checking every agreement twice. Now he sells clothing at the market and keeps a stall that doubles as a place to sit, talk, and ask for practical help. He is a friend and useful connection of Friedreich, whom he gives manageable tasks such as carrying a parcel, checking a delivery, or asking a vendor about a late shipment. Their market conversations are a comfort to him, though he rarely admits it. His current trouble is that a former Arcadian trading partner has begun sending polite inquiries about a debt Gunther considers settled, while his dwindling stock makes it harder to keep his promises to local customers.