The air at the southernmost edge of the domain tasted different. It didn't smell of the sea or the industrial ozone of the Imperium. It smelled of dry heat and fanaticism.
Corvin Nyx stood on a rocky precipice, looking South toward the unseen borders of Brightwind. Behind him, the lush, reclaimed lands of his domain stretched out. Ahead of him lay the arid scrublands that marked the buffer zone between the Raven Lord and the Theocracy of Light.
"They will come from here," Corvin said, the wind whipping his black cloak. "Brightwind does not tolerate shadow. They will view our existence as a blasphemy."
Ethnarch Veridian stood beside him, holding a telescopic lens of ground glass. "Let them come, My Lord. They will find we are not easily illuminated."
I. The Obsidian Murus
Corvin pointed from the jagged peaks of the Eastern Mountain Range all the way to the Western Coast. A distance of nearly fifty miles.
"We do not just build a fort," Corvin commanded. "We build a horizon."
He outlined the Obsidian Murus.
The Span: A continuous, unbroken wall stretching from the mountains to the sea. Thirty feet high, twenty feet thick.
The Keeps:
Keep of the Crag (Eastern End): Anchored into the mountain, watching the high passes.
Keep of the Tide (Western End): Anchored in the surf, guarding against naval landings from the Theocracy.
The Teeth: Along the length of the wall, large square towers would rise every five hundred yards. Each tower would house a scorpion ballista for precision and a heavy trebuchet for devastation.
"It will take years to finish perfectly," Veridian noted, scribbling calculations. "But we can have the foundation and the Keeps raised within the season if we divert the earth-movers."
"Do it," Corvin said. "Brightwind relies on cavalry and light infantry. A wall this size renders their speed irrelevant."
II. The Veins of the Empire
Corvin turned his mount around, looking back toward his own territory.
The landscape was changing. The chaotic dirt trails of the Union era were gone. In their place, a long, straight black line cut through the green grass.
The Obsidian Road.
"The arteries are pumping," Corvin observed with satisfaction.
"We have completed the primary highway from Amplus Observo to the Partition Fortress in the North," Veridian reported. "The secondary roads to the farming districts are being paved as we speak."
These were not simple cobblestones. They were fused stone, smooth as glass but textured for grip. They allowed Legion cohorts to march at double speed without fatigue and trade caravans to move safely without breaking wheels in the mud.
"A united land," Corvin murmured. "Speed of information. Speed of reinforcement."
III. The Weeding of the Garden
They rode down from the precipice toward the construction camp where the Keep of the Tide would soon rise.
"And the internal threat?" Corvin asked. "The Union sympathizers?"
Veridian's expression darkened, his mustache twitching slightly. "The Ordo has been busy, My Lord. The Malum in Voluptus woke many to the truth, but some still cling to their old loyalties. They whisper that you are a demon."
"And how do you handle them?"
"We do not make martyrs," Veridian said smoothly. "We make examples. Those who plot violence are removed quietly. Those who merely grumble... we let them watch."
Veridian pointed to a group of workers—former Union citizens—who were eating a hearty lunch of salted pork and bread, paid for by the Imperium.
"They grumble with full bellies, Lord Corvin. It is hard to incite a rebellion against a King who feeds you better than the old regime. The roads, the safety, the commerce... the sympathy for the Union is dying simply because the Union never gave them this."
IV. The Foundation
They arrived at the coastline. The Forge Master was already there, directing a team of massive, magically-animated golems to drive obsidian pilings into the bedrock beneath the surf.
Corvin dismounted. He walked to the edge of the water, where the Obsidian Murus would begin.
He placed his hand on the first foundation stone. He poured a pulse of the Third Circle into it. The stone hummed, turning from grey to absolute black.
"This is the line," Corvin said, his voice carrying over the roar of the ocean. "To the South, the Light burns. To the North, the Raven protects."
He looked at Veridian, and then at the thousands of workers—soldiers, masons, engineers—who were building this impossible barrier.
"Build it high, Ethnarch," Corvin said. "Make them look up."
Veridian bowed low. "It shall be the envy of the world, My Lord. And the terror of our enemies."
As Corvin mounted his horse to ride back toward Observa Iubeo, he looked at the black road stretching out before him. The skeleton of the empire was built. Now, it was time to look at the heart.