The dark and dump basement of the Ostrheinsburg castle was the perfect place to pass the night. Voldo leaned against the cold wall and took a large breath of pestilent air. The strong smell woke up strange and long forgotten memories.
The many years he had spent inside the bowls of the earth guarding his master's treasure had made him adjust perfectly to the underground life. Whenever he had to get out from that self-imposed prison, he felt uncomfortable. All his life he had tried to adapt himself to any thinkable and unthinkable situation constantly improving his natural talents and developing new and weird skills. Of course the only benefiter of these superhuman efforts was Vercci as Voldo's only lived to serve his master.
Vercci was an ambitious man, greedy and crooked but Voldo was unfamiliar with moral terms such as Goodness or Evilness. He was much more a believer than a thinker. And he only believed in his master. It had become clear to him from the beginning that he was not to seek for the truth but to obey.
Loyalty was his only creed and in order to fulfill his duty he had to play whatever role Vercci needed or wanted him to perform: a cool blooded assassin, a skilled thief, a cunning plotter, a shameless dandy or a witty buffoon. Under his master's guidance Voldo became highly versatile, easily adaptable, sleek and devious, always eager to learn new tricks and invent new tactics. He quickly learned how to swap personalities. He could go from a cold army general, to a sleazy gun seller or a charming seducer, dancing and reciting poetry to dull princesses to support his master's political ambitions. He was absolutely devoted to serving and never desirous of getting any credit for his actions.
The sense of duty and the love for his master made Voldo deliberately accept to be buried alive and spend what was left of his life in that dump Sicilian inferno.
Vercci himself was amazed by his valet's talents and despite being the owner of a huge arsenal which included a tremendous variety of guns he came to realize that the best weapon he ever possessed was Voldo.
During the first years of his imprisonment, while he still had the mental ability to express thoughts and bring back happy or painful memories, there was one obsessive image that distracted him from the effort to radically transform his mind and body. The disturbing element was music. Ancient dance tunes, from the times his master needed him to seduce high-aristocracy ladies, buzzed inside his head night and day. Strangely enough, that depraved youth of pleasures, "a training for diplomatic life" as Vercci had called it, was the only memory that haunted him. He didn't recall the long hours he had spent during his youth reading hundreds of old manuscripts from Vercci's library, nor the bloody wars he had conducted in the name of his master, nor the thousands of people he had killed, nor the beauties of the lands he travelled to, nor the excessive luxury of Vercci's castle nor the sweetness of his daughters, none of these came to his mind. The only thing from his past that was spinning in his head over and over again were those monotonous dance tunes. Even in the late years when his mind was almost blank and no resemblance to human emotions or thoughts were to be found inside his soul except the obsessive duty to his master, he could still hear those dance tunes and Vercci's voice commanding him: "Dance Voldo, dance!"
The first time he had heard that order was on his 19th birthday when he was introduced to the high society. He had proven a good pupil in all fields, from Greek and Latin, to history or military strategy, and one of the best in duels and fighting. All these skills drew Vercci's attention and one day he called for Voldo and presented him with the opportunity to make him his valet. Voldo was surprised and felt extremely honored. However he had to pass a test in order to become Vercci's "right hand". The old sleazy nobleman knew that he could take advantage of Voldo's distinguished looks to use him for high-society intrigues, for that was where the real games of power were played. Elegant manners were not enough; something else was required to really charm the Italian aristocracy. The final test was dancing.
Voldo had no idea what dancing was. At first he looked clumsy and shy but the effect the music had on his body was so strong that he quickly lost all inhibitions. His innate sense of rhythm and elegant body movements made him look as a natural born dancer. But he would have unrepentantly ignored that talent if it wouldn't have been for the special reward his master gave him on his first ball.
The night of Voldo's presentation to the high-society, all eyes were on Vercci, all noblemen feared him and many of them were bootlickers, for he adored to be worshiped. Music, wine, arrogant generals and extravagantly dressed dames all blended up in an inarticulate buzzing of dull voices, a shapeless heard of important people.
Nevertheless just as soon as the dancing began everybody's attention shifted to somebody else: Vercci's intriguing new protégé. His distinguished, yet reserved, looks, the elegance of his dance moves, his body language, shy and provocative at the same time, drew everybody's attention, especially that of the ladies.
Vercci was a gruesome old man, obsessed with power and always grumpy, but seeing Voldo dancing had touched a hidden streak of his bitter heart and without knowing he wrinkled his lips into a content smile. The only smile he had given to anyone in his entire life. Voldo was ecstatic, his heart was about to explode of joy. When the ball was over Vercci greeted his protégé with a silent head approval and announced him he was to be his right hand form that day on.
Voldo never forgot the night his master smiled to him. No matter what he was doing, whether he was walking, fighting or expressing political ideas his gestures look very much like those of a ballet dancer. Vercci was surprised and pleased with Voldo's unusual talent to such point that whenever complicated missions or devious plots were to be planned he just said: "Dance Voldo, dance!" and that was the ultimate signal for action.
As the years went by, in the extreme solitude of his underground prison the past faded away. After a while in Voldo's mind there were no images left other then Vercci's face, there was no will other than protecting the treasure and fulfilling his duty to his master. Any other human being would have tried to escape the impossible task or would have simply died of cold, hunger or loneliness. But none of these things ever bothered Voldo. His high adaptability and extreme sense of loyalty helped him survive the harsh conditions. Being trapped inside that freezing tomb, along with the dead bodies of his victims, was not such a scary scenery. It was just another challenge, a different type of battle, a difficult situation that had to be overcome by any means.
After a couple of months without seeing the daylight he realized that he was about to lose his sight, so he decided to do as much observation as he could. He had silently accepted to spend his life in the darkness so he needed to get ready for the eternal night. Humans are not fit for living six feet under the ground therefore he started to pay attention to all sorts of animals and insects that were familiar with that kind of life: bugs, spiders, maggots, rats. He was fascinated by the swiftness of the spiders, their large legs and their spooky way of walking backwards. He climbed the walls and stood still for hours observing them. When the spider would move Voldo would imitate him, reproducing accurately its moves. He walked on four legs, forward, side-ward or backward, doing the same routine over and over again day after day for years.
Another object of his study were the worms. Big white maggots, devouring the degrading flesh of the sailors he had silenced to protect Vercci's treasure, were an awkward but extremely useful view for a survivor like Voldo. He observed the maggots' movements and learned how to bend and wriggle his body like a boneless creature.
And then there were the rats, fascinating animals, both his fellows and his victims. He analyzed their every feature, the way they crouched, the sounds they made and their ability to feed themselves on anything that could be chewed or swallowed. He copied their attitude religiously. His body was reluctant at the beginning but the power of his mind went way beyond the weakness of his flesh so when there was no food left he turned to the bodies of the dead sailors competing with the rats and the maggots for every piece of meat. And when all the corpses were devoured he started hunting the rats themselves and eat them alive.
After a few years he completely lost his sight but all his other senses sharpened. He was able to hear snakes crawling from half a mile away and he could smell a human presence even through a wall. He had become a mutant, a bizarre creature, a freak. Life had changed Voldo in such a way that Vercci himself would not have been able to recognize his valet. While slowly decaying from human nature, Voldo deliberately gave up the ability to speak. Hissing, spiting, growling and snarling replaced the words and phrases he once produced to the delight of the ladies and the terror of his enemies. Disgust and fear was what his appearance inspired now. But he didn't care; he had stopped caring the day his master left.
The night cast a grim shade over the Ostrheinsburg castle. The air got dumper and colder. Voldo felt it was time to leave the basement and confront his rivals. He will get that cursed sword and fulfill his master's last wish. He will not die before finding Soul Calibur. That sword should be his gift for his beloved Vercci when they would meet in the afterworld. He crawled along the wall on four legs like a spider and then, once he got to the stairs, he softly straitened his body with an elegant ballet move. The voice in his head commanded: "Dance Voldo, dance!"