Voldo is my favorite character from the Soul series, if only for how utterly bizarre he is. A concept art of him as a young man shows him standing blindfolded beside Vercci, and I find this to be confusing; Voldo did not go blind until he was sealed inside the Money Pit, therefore that scene would not have normally occurred. I say normal because again, this is Voldo. I gave my own explanation for why he might have worn a blindfold in his youth, despite not being blind just yet.


"Remove the blindfold."

Black cloth whispered to the floor at Vercci's sharp command. Voldo blinked at the bright light fixture above him. He dropped his head at the intensity, and sighed, the strands of his short hair falling into his face.

The chair positioned before him squeaked slightly as his master stood, turning on his heel to look at his servant. Voldo grimaced beneath his gag as his chin was brought up by Vercci's hand. A frown was upon the merchant's face. "I do not understand, I have allowed the restoration of your sight for a time, but you appear to dislike it." The servant lowered his eyes.

The hand pushed Voldo's head back up, and he obliged, tilting it willingly. It was stopped a way, allowing Vercci to stare full on into his eyes. The reflex to blink seized him for a moment, but he let it go to save his pride. "What is it that you want, Voldo?" The question was not an inquiry requiring an answer, the man being addressed unable to do so.

Instead, Vercci slowly pried his hand, finger by finger, from Voldo's chin, and circled to the back of him, his footsteps light over the marble floor. The young man strained his ears after him, his eyes bulging as they searched for where he was going.

Voldo let out a breath, his hands remaining clenched dutifully together behind his back in anticipation. He closed his eyes, reveling in the safety of the darkness again. He could more easily detect the male's presence behind him with his heightened sense. His eyes opened just as soon. But this was his master who was behind him; he would do him no harm.

Perhaps that was why he felt tense, his gaze searching the deserted receiving room. The two heavy doors had shut, a messenger bearing news of the latest expedition of Vercci's fleet being the principle guest for today. The sound of a scroll unfurling, and the rather frustrated sigh given by his master was the indication of the news' nature without a verbalization. The darkness was alive in its way, the door opening, men's shoes stepping cautiously over the floor, and his master's rather aggressive tone filling the air.

How would his brothers think of him now, should their spirits still linger? Murdered veterans, the four, would see the poor middle child, his muteness once rendering him helpless, standing at the side of the merchant of death. He doubted he would gain respect from them now, their vengefulness justified by a brother's betrayal of principle. Pomp, circumstance, and glory were reduced to plundering and financial arithmetic.

He was all the more grateful for the cloth that was placed back upon his eyes. "We must plan our next strategy of attack," Vercci declared, "The losses this week are as I feared."