Anemoi 2, Imperial Year 1644
The Free City of Velathri – The Rusted Nail Tavern
Winter had loosened its grip on the coast, but the wind still carried a bite. Vladislav Eisenberg – not the Raven, not Zero, but a nondescript traveler in a gray cloak – sat in a corner of the Rusted Nail, nursing a cup of watered wine. His beaked mask was hidden in his pack; his face was bare, pale, and unremarkable.
Across the room, a man sat alone.
Ser Corvin was forty‑five, broad‑shouldered, with a scar running from his temple to his jaw. He had been a captain in the city guard of Velathri until three years ago, when he had refused to arrest a merchant on trumped‑up charges. The merchant was a friend of the city's ruler. Corvin had been dismissed, beaten, and left for dead in an alley.
Now he worked as a bouncer for the Rusted Nail. He was respected, feared, and utterly alone.
Vlad had been watching him for a week.
Corvin did not take bribes. He did not look away when drunks abused the serving girls. He did not favor the rich over the poor. He was honest – painfully, stubbornly honest – and the world had punished him for it.
He is perfect, Vlad thought. If he will have me.
Vlad waited until the tavern emptied, then approached Corvin's table.
"Ser Corvin."
The man looked up. His eyes were gray, cold, assessing. "I am no longer a ser. Just Corvin."
"You were a captain. You were wronged. You did not bend."
Corvin's hand moved to the knife at his belt. "Who are you?"
"Someone who has watched you. Someone who knows that you value truth over coin, justice over comfort." Vlad sat down across from him. "I have a proposition."
"I do not work for criminals."
"Neither do I."
Corvin studied him. "You are not from Velathri. Your accent is northern. Thornreach, maybe."
"Observant. Good."
"I am not interested in games."
"Neither am I." Vlad reached into his cloak and placed a small leather pouch on the table. Inside were fifty silver marks – a month's wages for a guard. "This is not payment. This is a gesture of good faith."
Corvin did not touch the pouch. "What do you want?"
"I want to know if you believe that justice is possible. Not the justice of kings, or councils, or mobs. True justice – based on evidence, delivered without favor, without fear."
Corvin was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "I used to. Then I learned better."
"And yet you still break up fights. You still protect the serving girls. You still refuse bribes." Vlad leaned forward. "You still believe. You have just forgotten how to hope."
Corvin's jaw tightened. "Who are you to lecture me about hope?"
Vlad reached into his cloak again and withdrew a folded parchment – a copy of the nine tenets, written in a plain hand, unsigned.
"Read this," he said. "If it speaks to you, meet me tomorrow at dawn. The old lighthouse on the southern pier. Come alone."
He stood and walked away, leaving the pouch and the parchment on the table.
Corvin stared at the parchment. Then he picked it up and began to read.
Anemoi 3, Imperial Year 1644
The Southern Pier – Dawn
The old lighthouse had not been used in decades. Its glass was cracked, its lantern dark, its stairs treacherous. Vlad stood at the base, dressed in the Zero armor – the white cape, the masked helmet, the single glowing lens.
He had decided that Zero would be the face of the Black Knights. The Raven was for enemies. Zero was for allies.
Footsteps on the cobblestones. Corvin approached, his hand on his knife, his eyes fixed on the armored figure.
"You are the one who left the parchment."
"I am."
"The tenets. You wrote them?"
"I did."
Corvin stopped a few paces away. "They are idealistic. Naive, even. 'Freedom is the right of all living beings' – that is not how the world works."
"The world is broken. The tenets are the blueprint for fixing it."
"And you think you can fix the world? One man?"
"Not one. Many." Vlad extended a gauntleted hand. "I am building an order. The Black Knights. We will operate in the shadows, targeting those whom the law cannot touch – slavers, murderers, corrupt nobles. We will investigate before we act. We will judge based on evidence. And we will carry the weight of our deeds."
Corvin looked at the hand, then at the masked face. "Why me?"
"Because you are honest. Because you were broken by an unjust system and you did not become a monster. Because you still protect the weak, even when no one is watching." Vlad's voice was flat, but not cold. "I need people like you. People who can bear the weight."
Corvin was silent for a long moment. The wind whipped his cloak, and the waves crashed against the pier.
"I have killed men," he said. "In the line of duty. I have never killed in cold blood."
"Neither have I. Every death I have delivered was justified. I can show you the evidence for each one." Vlad did not lower his hand. "I will not ask you to kill without cause. I will ask you to investigate, to judge, and to act when action is necessary. And I will stand beside you when you do."
Corvin looked at the hand. Then he looked at the mask.
"If I say yes, what happens next?"
"I will train you. Not in combat – you already know how to fight. I will train you in investigation, in evidence gathering, in the burden of taking a life for the greater good. You will learn to carry the weight, or you will leave."
"And if I leave?"
"Then you leave. No harm. No revenge. The door is open both ways."
Corvin reached out and took Vlad's hand.
"I will try," he said. "But I make no promises."
Vlad nodded. "That is all I ask."
Anemoi 3, Imperial Year 1644 (continued)
The Workshop – Induction
Vlad brought Corvin to his hidden workshop – not the main one, but a secondary location in the hills above Velathri. It was smaller, simpler, but it had the essentials: a workbench, a weapons rack, a small forge.
"This is where you will train," Vlad said. "For the next month, you will live here. I will visit when I can."
"And my duties at the tavern?"
"I have arranged for a replacement. Your employer has been paid."
Corvin looked around the workshop. "You have thought of everything."
"I try." Vlad removed his helmet, revealing his pale face and red eyes. "My name is Vladislav. But in the field, you will call me Zero."
Corvin did not flinch at the vampire's features. "Zero."
"Yes. And you will need a name as well. Something that is not your own."
Corvin thought for a moment. "I was called the Hound, once. For my persistence."
"The Hound it is."
Vlad handed Corvin a copy of the nine tenets, bound in leather.
"Memorize these," he said. "They are your code. Your conscience. When you are uncertain, return to them."
Corvin took the booklet. "And my first mission?"
"First, you train. Then we find the others. And then we hunt."
End of Chapter Twenty-Four