The funny thing is that mothiir just recently released headcanons about the first captain. Today is Sevatar's day.

The very thought of serving on a Night Lords ship was terrifying. Many remembrancers chose Fulgrim or Horus Lupercal. Some ventured to the Conqueror. But as your lady noted, only the bravest and courageous are ready to board the Nightfall.

Stupid and naive, you wanted to tell her. But your mistress was too self-confident, too spoiled to listen to anyone. She justified her reckless action by arguing that the Night Lords were still Astartes, the Space Marines of the Imperium. And you…

What are you? You were her personal maid. You weren't supposed to have an opinion. You kind of missed freedom. But is it better to be a healthy serf than a hungry child? You are already lucky that her kind family took you into their home.

But while cleaning the mistress’s room on Nightfall, you want to return to the depths of poverty. It was dark here. Cold. And scary. No matter how much you smelled the chlorine or your lady's perfume, you couldn't get rid of the smell of blood. It seemed to be absorbed into the ship.

You behaved as quiet as a mouse. Didn’t interfere, didn’t talk too much. Made friends with a couple of serfs without distracting them from their work. Tried not to tremble in the presence of the Astartes passing by. The main thing is to continue to remain invisible. Hide in the darkness and it doesn’t matter what these lords rule the night.

The lady was an easy prey. She just asked to be gutted. You shouldn't think that way, but it was true. The way her knees shook and she sweated out of fear. Although it was difficult not to do so when even in the quietest corners of the ship distant cries of pain could be heard.

“I'm so scared. They look like that, as if a little longer and they will twist my head.” - the lady once complained to you before going to bed.

“You shouldn’t be afraid. This won't happen." - you calmly notice. The girl’s calm face, full of hope, changes to horror and disgust as soon as you continue your thought. - “First they will skin you alive.”

Compared to her, you seemed so gloomy and strange. Weird. The other servants jokingly called you lady crow. Although you didn't understand the humor. Nightfall looked more like a burial ground. How could you want to stay here for even one minute if you are not a scavenger? Besides, you are not a bird, you are a human.

And despite this, your mistress tried to gain respect among mortals who had seen the real horrors of war. And her desperate attempts to personally meet Konrad Curze are akin to a desire to quickly depart to the afterworld.

And she achieved her goal. Even more. The primarch himself decided to visit the chambers of the restless scribe. Either out of idle curiosity or out of a desire to calm down the annoying woman. Just the knock on the door sent a shiver down your spine, and his massive black figure in the doorway sent a terrible feeling of foreboding.

Konrad Curze, in his grim elegance, entered the chamber and greeted the woman. And then he looked at you. Long and drawn out, cold and concentrated. His black eyes probed every piece of your flesh and soul. And then he smiled.

The lips stretched to the ears, revealing clawed teeth. But the worst thing was when he laughed a nasty laugh. The kind that makes your bones crack. He continued to look at you and laugh, putting the lady in a stupor. And scaring you terribly. A gloomy foreboding clouded the little mortal heart, and the words only nailed you more firmly to the floor.

“How interesting~” - the primarch grinned carnivorously while saliva collected in the corners of his mouth. - “The little mouse will offer itself to the crow. And he will only be glad. What's worse? To be eaten by scoundrels or to be protected by a monster?”

He bursts out laughing again, this time quiet. He sighs, disgustingly satisfied. Until he finally pays attention to your mistress. And something in his face changes. You can’t explain it, but it’s as if doom and anticipatory bloodthirstiness have merged into one. As if Konrad Curze saw something terrible. And he liked it.

“Perhaps we should discuss everything in private,” his voice softly envelops you like night. It is impossible to explain how a man turned from madman to primarch. Although no one knows whether the Emperor's son can go mad.

Your mistress nods and with a wave of her hand kicks you out of the chambers. You quickly leave the room, closing the door behind you. The primal desire to hide increased a hundredfold. You rush to one of your secluded places, which you discovered by accident. For the first time in your life, not watching the road and not hiding too much from prying eyes.

You should never give in to fear. You must always be on your guard. A momentary weakness can and does lighten the soul. But you will definitely have to pay later. And you understand this as soon as you hit your forehead on something iron at a turn.

A characteristic sound is heard and you whine and grab your forehead. There will be a bump and most likely a huge one. But the pain just vanishes when you understand where it came from. And especially when you hear an unpleasant chuckle.

He looked intimidating. Outstretched wings of a gargoyle and a skull on a huge armor not intended for an ordinary mortal. The characteristic appearance of the Nostraman did not frighten you. As well as the scars on the eyebrow and lip.

But his smile was scary. How his black eyes filled with sparkle, and the corners of his lips twitched strangely. It’s as if someone is touching the threads sewn into the skin of a corpse, imitating human living emotions. All the sons of Curze were terrifying, their “smiles” were more like the grin of animals. But this one was different.

“Careful, little one. If you had met one of my brothers, you would already be hanging on a hook” - his eyes sparkled with mischief, but nothing more. - “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

You swallowed. Didn’t want to answer, but silence could only provoke.

“My lady is speaking with Konrad Curze.” - the unpleasant meeting still echoed in your brain. It became more uncomfortable. - “I was told not to interfere.”

“Oh, that annoying scribe still managed to snag a meeting with the primarch. Your mistress talks too much and goes where she shouldn't. These usually end up with their guts out.” The man smirked and looked at you. Attentively. Like a carcass ready for slaughter. - “And where are you going?”

That's why you didn't want to get caught by the Night Lords. They played with mortals as if they were food. Important people for the Legion were still protected, but the serfs were meat. One is gone, it’s easy to replace it with a second one. The only thing that saved you was to be the remembrancer’s serf, her personal maid. Although judging by the attitude of the Space Marines towards her, this could only egg them on.

“To the compartment” - you don’t want to say where you’re going, but there’s no choice. In addition, it is unlikely that the Astartes will specify the exact location of your secret home. - “Into the trash compartment.”

A strange range of surprise spreads across the man’s face. Not disgust, but misunderstanding.

“Why the hell did you decide to go there?”

“There are a lot of rats there. They are my friends” - you almost calmed down as soon as you remembered the familiar sounds coming from under the garbage. You almost whisper a confession. - “They calm me down with their rustling.”

It was true. They listened to your stories, entertained you with fights between each other. They were soft and fluffy, although dirty. They were not evil from birth, they simply survived as best they could in such a place. And alas, the rats were much better than some of the people here.

The man just chuckled at these words. Did it seem to you or did a strange understanding flash in his eyes? And curiosity.

“Well then go.”

Not believing your luck, you open your mouth in amazement and blink your eyes. But you obey. While he gives you a head start, you need to run. There is no need to waste your luck. Especially when the one who could easily break you and not notice, lets you go while the going's good.

“And since they calm you down, mouse,” you turn around sharply and notice the same terrifying smile. But this time it's not scared. Something in a man changes when he calls out to you. - “It’s worth thanking them. Bring them meat... and fresh is best.”

Good advice. Maybe you're already used to Nightfall or this Night Lord seems less terrible. Or maybe you should really bring your little friends a well-deserved reward. You'll try to find something fresh and something... not made from human flesh.

You nod and quickly, trying not to attract attention, walk further down the corridor. You wish you could say that you didn’t feel the Space Marine’s gaze on you. But you felt it even when your figure disappeared from his gaze. Dead, mischievous, carnivorous. It was as if he had just found an interesting prey, but decided to let it go.

For a while.

You started to notice him. Previously all Space Marines looked alike. You just didn't look closely. Why the hell do you need this if they will torture you almost equally. But he wasn't like that. Or rather, a little more... humane? Kind? No, those are suitable. Wrong. Yes, that's much better.

First captain. Jago Sevatarion. You learned the name and title from one of the local serfs. You immediately became friends with him when you saw him. He was old. That's why you called him grandpa. He lasted a long time. Good sign.

Grandpa said that you were very lucky that the captain didn’t touch you. He did not participate in the local amusements so often, talking more with the primarch. Or keeping an eye on other Space Marines and a Atramentar. But still he was just as sadistic as the others. He killed, dismembered, skinned with grim pleasure. You couldn’t help but notice that he was the most feared of all. Unpleasant vibrations emanated from him.

It seemed like you were scared too. But it seems not. Alas, just as you were strange in childhood, you remains so. Although the local inhabitants even liked it. As if you almost one of them, unlike the other servants of the scribe. But you really couldn’t understand why no one noticed.

His weirdness. How he communicates with a couple of mortals. The same ones. You were sure he was keeping an eye on them. He made sure nothing bad happened to them. And he didn't touch you either. It is unlikely that your “status” would in any way prevent Sevatarion from quenching his thirst for murder. And he didn't laugh at your friendship with rats. Didn't find it disgusting or weird. It was nice gesture.

He also began to notice you. On distance. Didn't come up to you, didn't call you. No need. It’s just that now he knew what kind of new person was running around here. The Astartes began to notice you in the shadows, as you headed towards the rats or the local serfs. You didn’t see, but you were almost sure that at such moments he smiled unpleasantly.

Although probably all the Space Marines smiled when Curze called your mistress a traitor. He said that she decided to steal something and violated the Imperial Truth. You still couldn’t understand the words of the old serf who caught you in the corridor.

Rave. Your mistress was spoiled and annoying, but she would never betray the Imperium. She wouldn't even have such a thought. Is this a mistake or some kind of joke? The primarch could not blame her for something she had not done. Did he really decide to come up with justice just to send her to her death? She was kind. She didn't deserve it.

But a judgment is a judgment. Grandpa wasn't making fun of you. Now you and the other servants belonged to the Legion. But given the way this happened, you are unlikely to stay here for long. Alive.

With a feeling of guilt and tears in your eyes, you look at her mutilated corpse, nailed to one of the gates. They removed the skin from her, and then they squeezed out the body so that all the bones were broken, and most of the blood flowed away. Now her eyeless body, folded like a rag, looked at you accusingly.

Once you said that they would skin her, don't you?

Footsteps are heard behind you. Not lurking, but quiet. If you can say so, taking into account the armor of the Space Marines. You turn around and see Jago Sevatarion behind. The captain looks...tired. It was like I hadn't slept for days or weeks. A little bored. But quite happy with his work.

Apparently he also took part in the verdict.

“Your screaming scribe got into trouble herself, little mouse. You shouldn't mourn her when your life hangs by a thread. You will serve the Legion well and we will not touch you. Maybe." - the man falls silent and looks at you carefully. - “Or are you so used to being a personal servant?”

Maybe. If this world were a little kinder, you would even call your mistress a friend. But the Galaxy is full of horrors, and your patroness has turned into a leather rag. And you will be the same if you get caught. Or if you are not protected...

Grandpa said he was lucky. He had a tattoo. The ink mixed with the blood of the Space Marine he served. And no one touched him. Nobody offended him. Because he was not a “free” serf. He was no one's toy on the road. He had his own tormentor. But it's better than the unknown. Isn't it?

The First Captain raised an eyebrow. Apparently a little hope slipped across your sad face. It’s alarming to ask, scary to beg. But what choice do you have? Sooner or later you will be found and gutted. So you have to take risks.

“Take me to you,” you almost devour the man with your eyes, trying not to cower in fear. - “I will serve you. I'll be obedient. Will not interfere. I'm very quiet. Please."

You didn’t know why you mentioned that you are quiet. It came out on its own. The Night Lords rather like screaming, begging, and crying. The louder the better. But before your eyes was the tired appearance of the first captain. Even now he didn't look his best. Although something lights up in his eyes. For a moment, the walking corpse looks almost alive. A terrible sight.

“Call me Sevatar.” - the voice is surprisingly soft and relaxed. You look at him in disbelief. The man just grins at your funny look.

"This means?"

"Yes."