A lean, weather-browned human with close-cropped curls and an ink-smudged thumb. His voice is low and even, but when startled his breath catches in two quick sips before he can speak. He keeps his gaze moving around a room, checking doors, windows, and hands rather than meeting anyone's eyes for long. His military coat has been carefully altered to hold a spellbook and component pouch without restricting his movement.

Patient with frightened people and brisk with anyone who mistakes rank for wisdom. He is practical, observant, and more comfortable explaining a spell's limits than boasting about its power.

Arkan learned to read maps before he learned to read poetry. He served as a signaler and field clerk in a border regiment, where a soldier's ability to calculate distance, wind, and the time between flashes could keep a patrol alive. During a disastrous retreat, he used scraps of a captured officer's spellbook to turn a ruined watchpost into a beacon of blinding light. The trick bought his company time to escape, and left Arkan convinced that magic was another tool of survival, one best understood before someone else used it against you. He left the regiment after an order came down to abandon a village whose people had no part in the conflict. Arkan helped them evacuate instead, then stayed behind to misdirect the pursuing troops with a handful of crude illusions. Now he studies as a wizard, building his knowledge from borrowed texts and hard-won practice, while taking work that puts his skills between ordinary people and those who would sacrifice them for convenience. He still carries his old unit's insignia, though he no longer follows its orders.