1: Weapons

*Content warning: blood, mention of crime scene.

Imperium, the Dominion capital city

Two weeks before the Kraah attack on the Easthaven Mageguild

Corvus blinked, his vision clearing. The faint scent of burning wood clung to his cloak, but he remembered nothing clearly. A hollow unease tightened his chest, dread tangling with confusion.

What had he forgotten this time?

He sat in the darkness of his quarters with his hands clenched in his lap. Outside, the night was icy and somber. If only he could bask in healing sunlight, just for a day. Surely his mind would clear like light slicing through wintry clouds, if just for a moment. The Dominion was never a harsher mistress than in the cold season. It did not help that the season lasted for month after month of freezing nights that seemed to go on forever. In his homeland, temperance was scarce.

At least, the Dominion was his homeland now. He didn’t remember Tanahr. The only proof the Imperium Municipal Orphanage had of Sevens’ existence prior to this place was a hand-written note on faded parchment from his supposed mother, lamenting she could not get him safely back to his birthplace in the woods of Duskmere, south of Tanahr’s capital city, Easthaven. That and one other note, this one from a kindly clerk, saying that his mother had passed away quietly in a sanatorium.

He tilted his head, listening. A driving wind keened outside the barracks, rattling the windows in their casements. In the distance, he heard other soldiers on their rounds or performing late practice drills, their voices a mild, mundane hum. He wondered what these people were talking about, since he couldn’t afford peaceful moments.

He existed apart from the other soldiers, separate in both official and unofficial capacities. Quartered by himself, spoken of in whispers, noted by his superiors as an asset of the highest order. He was just a weapon in the Dominion’s arsenal, used for their darkest work.

“I can’t keep doing whatever this is,” he hissed to himself through clenched teeth. Once more, he sat covered in blood and with no memory of what had happened. It was so easy to fall into a dark place.

Corvus Sevens was, as always, alone.

It was almost Meltmoon, a week of holidays that heralded the first thaws. Other soldiers would entertain guests in the coming days, now that roads were clearing. Friends and family would arrive from the country or other parts of the city proper. Perhaps they’d be meeting up with sweethearts bearing Meltmoon gifts.

He even knew two soldiers who boasted about their special dispensation papers allowing them to travel beyond Dominion borders. They would ride over hard terrain for days, then portal to countries Corvus could only imagine. To places like Canrish, or one of the Allied nations that spanned much of Ahra’s habitable land — including Tanahr, his mother’s home.

Warmer places and, he suspected, kinder than here. What drove his mother away from gentler climes, he would never know. It seemed unthinkable that anyone would flee the seat of the Accord to find refuge within an enemy nation’s borders.

It would have been spring time in Tanahr a month ago.

Festivities of any kind were not relevant to him. Corvus would be where he always was, on assignment for General Acton and that dreadful aether leymage, Madame Felsin, or training when the practice yards were empty. He couldn’t remember why.

He peeled off his long black coat and loosened his cravat, unfastened his shirt buttons, and stood to drape them over a chair. He stared down at his hands; strong, callused, and stained with dried blood. His hair was a mess, dark locks caught in a tangled tail at his back. Sweat and still more blood cooled on his cheeks. Thankfully, there was a full water-basin and dark rags with which to clean himself.

I always find this when I return from a mission. Someone knows I’ll be in such a state and prepares for it.

This was his duty to his Dominar and the realm. This was the cost of being a weapon. He just wanted to remember who had forged him, and why.

—

“They’re taken care of, sir.” Guardsman Petrov muttered thickly, disgust heavy in his voice.

“Good. That ought to get Madame Felsin off my back. My protégé finished the job in record time, yes?” a tall man in a general’s dress uniform mused as he neatly sidestepped a pool of blood.

“I did not realize we put such matters to the clock, General Acton,” Petrov replied dryly. “I do not understand why this had to happen, and I’d like to in case I’m put on the spot.” He fidgeted, patting his tricorn hat into place with one hand and toying with straps on the velveteen rapier-scabbard at his belt. He fought to look anywhere but down at the scene on the laboratory floor.

General Acton did not avert his thoughtful gaze from the mess. He knew harsh measures made enemies, but stability demanded sacrifice, even if that sacrifice haunted his dreams.

The Dominion needed this kind of strength now more than ever.

“Without a shocking scene, we couldn’t get rid of the remaining Coldrivers and evade suspicion, so we are to say nothing. If pressed, say you can’t disclose details upon command of Dominion Highguard Command. What do you think of him now that you’ve seen Sevens work?”

“He is frightening, to be frank. Sir, are we doing the right thing by create—er, recruiting more like him?” Petrov asked, ignoring the urge to couch his question in apologies.

“There’s no question in my mind that Felsin and everyone involved in the project are true Dominion patriots. Besides, he will remember nothing. That’s the beauty of the system if we can manage it.” General Acton swept one gloved hand around him, a gesture that encompassed the lifeless forms slumped in the Dominion Experimental Leymagic lab.

“As ever, I serve the Dominion. The judgment rests with you and Madame Felsin, and I shall follow obediently,” Petrov replied. “Though perhaps we can continue our talks elsewhere?”

“I am awaiting Felsin. She will scour the place to find what she needs. Report to Stonechasm for your duty shift. I will make sure your family is well compensated for your trouble. The upcoming holidays will be enjoyable for you and yours, I trust. The Dominion rewards its servants well.”

“Indeed, she does, sir. And you have my most gracious and humble thanks.” Petrov turned to leave and then paused. “What about the Coldriver girls? Especially the one whose experiment this was supposed to be. I hear she will face execution⁠⁠⁠—”

“Emrhys and Lenore Coldriver’s fates are myconcern,” Acton interrupted. “I can say that the aethermage is bound for Stonechasm Prison, and you and Sevens will take charge of her guard detail. I’ll send Sevens to check in on the mage’s sister, who is off to the Priory. Listen to Emrhys carefully if she speaks and note anything she says, but be subtle. All must seem normal. Do you understand?”

Petrov nodded, his long, craggy face sallow in the guttering candlelight. Magelamps were not safe to use until they had cleaned all stray chemicals from the lab.

“You are dismissed,” Acton ordered, already turning his gaze back into the lab.

“Yes, sir.” Petrov crossed his arms over his chest in salute and left without another word.