“The mind is a fearful instrument of adaptation, and in nothing is this more clearly shown than in its mysterious powers of resilience, self-protection, and self-healing.”
30th of Frost, 4623
A soldier, and then a scout. That was how Volundr was trained since he could remember, both by the Mage-Commander of the Halamire encampment near Jarden as well as various other higher-level members of Daravin's military. He always did what was asked of him since he knew nothing else, and because he could very easily be dealt with, according to the Mage-Commander. He had noticed that the slick haired, gilded armored, pompous prick of a leader didn't take too fondly to him. Whether it was due to his ability to seemingly never die or due to the fact that there wasn't really much dirt to have on Volundr, the low level, basically nameless nobody that was the smallest part of the Entente tended to make the scout's days constantly busy and hectic.
"Hey, old man. You have a new job."
Of course it was him. Why wouldn't it be? The Mage-Commander of the Jarden encampment calmly sauntered up to Volundr, a greasy sneer on his face as he stood right up to the scout, looking up at him a bit but still looking down on him all the same.
""Lucky for you, it's not another scouting mission. Unlucky for you though, it's much more serious. If you mess this up, getting punished is the least of your worries."
As he spoke, an older gentleman dressed in a brilliant burgundy outfit calmly walked up, using a cane to walk. There were obvious signs of necromancy though various scars and what seemed like grafts, but they were almost non-existent, as would be the usual for various necromancers working for the Entente.
"You don't need to know this man's name, or what he does. All you need to do is protect him for a week while he takes care of his day to day, and that's all. If he gets hurt in even the slightest bit, whether it's a simple cut, a bruise, or even the wind blowing his hair the wrong way... if you can stop it, then you fail your assignment."
The Mage-Commander almost seemed giddy when speaking, with the older Veir saying nothing but nodding before beginning to head off.
Not wanting to deal with his superior for much longer, Volundr immediately followed, finally thankful to be free of the responsibility of scouting for that pompous prick. A few weeks past his full recovery from a light case of mageblight, that kind of pain was new to his existence, one he was aiming to avoid as much as possible. He had felt his soul scream at him for that level of suffering, so much more tangible than normal physical pain. Even the Neverborn spirit within his body was restless, since it was his soul in the loosest of terms. Focusing back to his job however, he mostly kept to the shadows, using obscura to keep his presence less noticeable for passers-by, not wanting to give away that he knew Nightfall. He even made sure to stay hidden from the man while he used his magic, as he didn't want anyone else to learn about his abilities. However, it seems like this older man didn't have a worry in the world, walking around as if he was guarded personally by the royal guard rather than a single man. It was amusing to say the least. The day itself was relatively peaceful, Volundr often told to stay out of specific buildings as the old man went inside himself. Probably some kind of meeting with another Veir or some supplier for various businesses. Either way, he did as he was told, remaining absolutely silent as he walked around with the man, the first day coming to a close relatively quickly.
37rd of Frost, 4623
When Volundr was told to essentially guard him during the night on the final day of work, he seemed a bit wary since he didn't really feel that he had made some kind of connection with the old man. That, and he figured that the Veir had his own guard at home as most tended to have. But when he made his way to the small manor this man owned and saw no guards? Volundr was besides himself, thinking him now crazy as anyone of a higher standing should have many more guards. But upon being invited into the manor, the scout could immediately see why. Walls and floors in major need of repair, drapes containing holes from moths and other damage, a lack of ornamental... anything really, it made sense that he had no guards. With a soft grunt, the older man walked to his study, taking a seat before looking over at Volundr, motioning him to sit down. Volundr, still being a bit beside himself, calmly removed his swords from his person and set them leaning against the chair before sitting down, not quite sure what to do.
"It's not much, is it?"
The older man very clearly had a gruffer voice dipped it what sounded like parchment paper, definitely showing his age as he spoke and coughed somewhat.
"This is the remnants of my manor, my... family. I am not very well off, so I have no guards, or trinkets. I am Veir in name only. Can you imagine that?"
A bitter chuckle came from the man's lips as he reached over to a crystalline bottle full of a dark brackish liquid, pouring himself a simple cup via a wooden tankard. He didn't need a response from Volundr, the scout realizing that the questions were rhetorical and he was just to listen for now.
"50 years, I gave to this Empire. Years that I would gladly give again. But that Mage-Commander of yours," he waved his hands dismissively as if that title meant nothing, "he's a special one, at least in the mental sense."
Another chuckle, this one a bit in better spirits came from the old man, a slight smile coming across Volundr's lips before it immediately went away. The Veir did catch it however, taking a long gulp from the tankard before setting it down, looking at the soldier in front of him as one might eye a splintering piece of wood on an otherwise perfect floor, with a mixture of worry and distain. It made sense, seeing as the Entente saw everyone lesser than them as nothing more than pests. and yet, he kept speaking to Volundr, allowing the soldier to absorb the information.
"He didn't tell you exactly what this job was, did he? Figures, the ass. Of course, you are to guard me for a week. But do you know why?"
The cluelessness on Volundr's face told the man all he needed to know, draining the rest of the tankard as the dark liquid stained his beard as it dripped out, wiping his mouth haphazardly before standing up again.
"His family owed me a favor, and this is what we decided on for the payment. Nothing special, but I figure why not enjoy one other luxury in my later years, cause the Omen knows that I'm not getting any younger."
Motioning to Volundr, it was clear the soldier had a question, which the Veir was wordlessly allowing him to speak, his voice immediately coming out almost like a flood.
"But why this, why me? It doesn't make sense to pick a scout if you want some kind of protection, a proper guard, trained to protect high-interest targets, that would be better."
"Simple. For one, you're cheaper. It was either one week with someone like you, or two days with someone that you just described. And for two, there are rumors of a scout who not only knows magic, but cannot die."
Of course the rumors escaped the camp, it was inevitable since there wasn't really security on the information. Maybe the Mage-Commander figured that nobody would believe the rumors, since they were simply too ridiculous to believe. However, as the old man spoke, his face softened and his tone changed into a more relaxed one, even though Volundr said nothing after the fact was brought up. His facial expression and body language were all the man needed to understand that he was correct.
"Do you know what I did in my younger years? I was an interrogator. Not a famous one, mind you, but a good one. Every muscle movement, every facial expression, if you even breathed differently, I could figure out if you were lying in a heartbeat or two. So the moment a mentioned those rumors, I could tell they meant you. So... tell me of these... unique dispositions you have."
It seemed that Volundr was already found out, leaning into the moonlight with his left hand palms up. As it came into direct contact, a shimmer revealed the location of his mark of control for Nightfall, positioned in those overlapping triangles. Looking at them, the old man nodded and then looked up at Volundr, his mouth tight and drawn like he was deep in thought.
"So... why do you not simply expose your own magical ability? You would be spared from the slavery that is the Halamire, and you could rise in station. I was a soldier for my country too, young man. Of course, I was a leader, like your Mage-Commander. But better. And worse. My men were loyal to me not because I was kind, but because I wasn't. You do realize this, right? That you are in the position to do better for yourself."
Nodding calmly, Volundr chuckled for the first time since he had started guarding his man, shaking his head. The old man raised an eyebrow at the soldier, a bit confused by his laughter. But the scout quickly clarified, clearing his throat somewhat.
"If you believe the rumors, then I cannot die which means that I could be older than you. But my reasons are my own, and if I am to give any information about myself that has meaning, I need some kind of guarantee that that information won't be given to parties that might not want it spread around."
"You mean the Mage-Commander, don't you? Again, I told you I used to be an interrogator, it's easier for me to find the information I want. But rest assured, I will honor our confidentiality and not tell anyone. I may be old, but I'm not senile. I understand the danger of these... rumors, as we've been calling them."
That whole night, Volundr seemed to trust the man entirely, feeling a bit strange as he was unloading all of this information on him. He couldn't quite put the words to what he was feeling, but the old man felt trustworthy, Volundr could feel it in his gut. So he spoke to the old Veir about how he only remembers back to the previous year's Frost, his birthday technically having been a bit less than a week before he was assigned to guard the old man. When asked about how he knew that he was immortal, Volundr mentioned the journal he had on him but refused to show it to the old man even after some small pestering. But the man allowed him to keep this secret, as he figured it had some much more personal information on it. Included in their conversation was how the Mage-Commander was basically threatening Volundr with various levels of punishment including death, which technically wasn't illegal as nobody else really knew that Volundr had magical abilities, so it was as simple as a superior supervising and using their underlings as one would.
It was tricky to escape, but after the night of discussion and almost strange bonding, Volundr had an idea in his head for how he could get out of his current situation. So with a confirmation that his job was done and that the old man had been thoroughly protected, Volundr made his way back to Jarden, his home. After all, he didn't have anything else that he could do besides continue his work as part of the Halamire while he worked on his plan. He hoped that the old man had a good rest of his life, seemingly having found one of the few Veir that was more in the interest of helping rather than only fulfilling some kind of self-worth mission to make themselves feel more important. Of course, this wasn't the only job he would be given, but it was the one that stood out the most to him, remembering this interaction for as long as he lived his current life. He never did learn that man's name. But if it was fate for them to meet again, he would make sure to get it that time, getting closer and closer to the fortified tents that marked his temporary home, a very snobbish Mage-Commander waiting for his return in order to continue working him ragged. But this would thankfully not last for much longer.
