A towering man with weathered skin and eyes like flint, Caern carries the Highlands with him wherever he walks — in his fur-lined cloak, the scent of pine smoke on his clothes, and the raw, unshakable stillness of his gaze. He speaks with few words and great weight, his voice low and gravelly, like distant thunder. Though polite enough for court, he makes no effort to hide his disdain for pomp or hollow ceremony.
His presence at the Royal Court is a curiosity to many: the first true Highland ambassador ever, sent to “speak for the Immortal King.” He watches, listens, and occasionally offers harsh truths without apology. Some nobles find him barbaric. Others suspect he’s far more intelligent than he lets on.