The imperial scribe patiently tapped a pen while sitting at his dark, lacquered oak desk. He was sitting in a small, windowless room in one of the foreboding towers of Falme, the mainland outpost of the Ever-Victorious Army. Recently assigned to act as historian and notary of the Deathwatch Guards, the personal soldiers of the Blood, the scribe was waiting for his first contact of the evening. The room’s only lighting was provided by a candle, rapidly melting into a metal plate placed upon the table.

     The scribe quickly became lost in the flickering flame of the candle, but was roused from his hypnosis by the creaking of the heavy steel-bound mahogany door of the room. Although he was of average height, the man had the stride of a leopard, both powerful yet menacing in its quiet determination. He sat down on the chair opposite the scribe and nodded his greeting.

     The scribe peers past the candle, “Name?”

     The shadowy figure leaned forward, “Gaosan Silverspear.”

     “Silverspear?” The scribe glances up at Gaosan inquisitively, “That is not your family name, is it?”

     Gaosan flashes a feral grin, reaching behind his back and pulling forward an intricately crafted leather baldric, simultaneously unsheathing a black-tasseled spear of brilliant silver hue.

     “No, it’s the name of my weapon.”

     The sound of drawn steel sends shivers down the scribe’s back, “Very well. You may begin, Gaosan Silverspear.”

     Gaosan leans back from the table. For a few moments he is silent, seemingly lost in thought. He sheaths his spear back into his leather baldric and swings it back upon his back.

     “I was born of humble means, into a da'covale family on the outskirts of Seandar. Ever since I was able to grip a plow, I was working in the fields of the Seanchan countryside. It was hard, monotonous work, but it honed my body as fresh steel is wrought in the foundry.”

     “I see,” The scribe quickly jotted down the details and continued, “How did you become involved with the Deathwatch Guards?”

     Gaosan paused, pulling back his cloak to glance at his raven-adorned belt buckle, the steel gleaming brightly amidst the darkness.

     “I have always looked up to the Deathwatch Guards, defenders of the Crystal Throne and protectors of the Empress, may she live forever. I worked diligently everyday, preparing myself to become one of the black-lacquered soldiers that stood first as the vanguard of the Empire.

     “Years later, when I came of age, I heeded the call of the Corenne to return to the ancestral lands of Hawkwing and reclaim the rightful property of the Crystal Throne. Leaving my family, I traveled to the mainland, landing in the port city of Falme to begin my quest to serve as a soldier of the Hailene.

     “Gradually learning the lay of the land, I began patrolling the Toman Head Road and making forays into the Red Eagle headquarters at Emond's Field and the southern city of Tanchico, returning to Seanchan on occasion to undergo further training as well as to assist fellow conscripts in their own services.

     “As I continued to render my services to the Empire, I gained experience by fighting under the command of great leaders of the Ever-Victorious Army. In my time on the battlefield I have helped turn back barbarous hordes at the gates of Falme, fought both man and trolloc in Emond's Field, and ventured into the Oathbreaker strongholds of Amador, Caemlyn, Whitebridge, and the marath’damane haven known as Tar Valon. In service to the Blood, I have slain whale-beasts in the Fingers of the Dragon, retrieved a codex of lost technology from the Age of Legends, thwarted marauding pirates who threatened Seanchan vessels, and even exposed traitors to the Crystal Throne in the highest levels of authority.”

     At the last comment, the scribe looked up with suspicion, “How certain are you of your dedication to the Empire, that you would make statements as bold as you have just uttered?”

     Gaosan stared at the imperial scribe with a deadly gaze, “Never have I balked from serving the Empress, may she live forever. My dedication to the Empire is evidenced by the blood that I have shed defending the Blood, the blood I continue to shed, and the blood I will shed.

     “Lord Silvak Kalcainus knew this, and saw fit for me to wear the ravens.” He bared his arms to the scribe, displaying brilliant crimson tattoos of a soaring raven on each arm, “I would gladly lay down my life in service to the Crystal Throne- or take the lives of those who threaten it or stand in the way of its will.”

     At that moment, a piercing alarm rang out from Falme Gate. Gaosan rose from his seat, and headed toward the door, receding back into the darkness.

     “I beg leave of you, sir. There is some business for me to attend to.”