Volke Savan

Volke Savan, formally Volke Blackwater, is a member of the Frith Guild, and the primary protagonist and first-person narrator of the Frith Chronicles. He is slightly over six feet tall with unruly black hair, a fit physique, and may be considered handsome due to the reactions of the ladies in the series. He is, however, unused to positive female attention, honorable to the point of stiffness, and largely romantically inept.

Volke was born on the isle of Ruma, to Josè Blackwater (a mainland caretaker of mystical creatures) and Aarona (a former thief). Volke's mother left the island when he was very young. Ruma is famous as the nesting ground of phoenixes. On Volke's fifth birthday, his father was found guilty of murder and shipped to the mainland for his final sentencing since he was not an island native.

Volke was then given to Gravekeeper William to be his apprentice. Due to an island tradition which holds that anyone handling corpses being "less clean," he is barred from participating in the phoenix's trial of worth, but trains to crash the ceremony and participate anyway. Part of his training included memorizing the passages carved into the staircase surrounding the Pillar, and he quotes those passages throughout the series.

After being thrown out of the phoenix ceremony, Volke bonds with Luthair, an adult knightmare, leaves the island with his adopted sister Illia, joins the Frith Guild, and avenges the murder of Luthair's first arcanist. Several books later, Luthair gains his true form because Volke was willing to sacrifice himself to protect others. After Luthair's death, Volke becomes the world serpent god-arcanist and warlord of magic.

Afterward, Volke starts to build up an army to fight the Second Ascension, and continues to hone his powers.

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> “It’s so good to see you, Dad,” Helmith said as she hurried over to the other man in the room. She threw her arms around him in a tight embrace that he returned completely.
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> The Warlord of Magic wasn’t anything like I had expected.
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> The man stood taller than anyone in the room—perhaps even taller than my brother, but they weren’t side by side for a good comparison. His black hair was short, but messy, as though styled by the winds of adventure itself.
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> His arcanist mark… it glowed white. A bright, mystical glow that was difficult to describe. It wouldn’t light up a room, but the faint pulse of power was unmissable. His seven-pointed star was laced with a cape and a sword.
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> A knightmare arcanist.
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> Just like Sorin.
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> He was muscled, but not bulky, and he stood with such confidence and balance that I knew he was a warrior of the highest order. A sword in an ebony sheath was tied at his side, and a kite shield as dark as midnight hung on his back.
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> – Mimic Arcanist
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> The Warlord of Magic, Volke Savan, stepped up to the front of the classroom and smiled. His black clothing, and dark scabbard, gave him an intimidating demeanor, but the look in his eyes reminded me what I already knew. He was a kind man. Strong and confident without being too imposing. His arcanist mark glowed with a white inner light. Several people in the room pointed.
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> Volke rubbed at his chin. He had no stubble or beard, which gave him a youthful appearance, even though he had to be over a hundred years old.
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> – Mimic Arcanist
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