Basil Naseir was a very special man. He'd known that for a long time now, but it still felt good to be sure that he had a purpose. Maybe other people could live in uncertainty, but not Basil. His purpose - and the master who had given it to him - defined him. The tall man sat down in a rocking chair and sipped a glass of brandy, letting himself relax. The day had been long and he'd been looking forward to its end.
"You've done well, Raven," said Basil's God, striding up behind him in the mirror. The Survivor only ever appeared to him on two dimensional surfaces. Usually reflective ones, like glass, water, or mirrors, but occasionally the Master spoke to him through his portraits as well. Though, there had been a single occurrence, a decade and a half ago... The experience that had changed his life.
You will be blessed for your hardship, Raven. Now, I have a work for you to do...
Raven (Basil was not his true name anymore; Kelsier had given him a new one and as such "Basil Naseir" was only a name he would use with common people) smiled and bowed his head in subservience. "I'm glad you are pleased, my Lord. Is there something you would have me do?"
"Such obedience," said the Survivor, folding his scarred arms in satisfaction. "This world needs more men like you. But I'm afraid it's not enough yet. I cannot return unless the world is cleansed, you know this."
Raven shifted uncomfortably. The Master had made it very clear to him that just because he was chosen did not mean he was exempt from certain standards. In fact, the standards he was held to were far more pressing than that of common folk. Hopefully the Survivor's words did not mean he had failed completely. He had more time. And Kelsier wouldn't replace him. Right? "You... promised me I would live to see your physical form," Raven whispered.
"That promise is dependent upon your performance, Raven." Kelsier's eyes grew dark. "Your time is limited, your days numbered. Do not waste it; failure is not acceptable."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Good. I would suggest, then, that you make sure the people you surround yourself with are as clean as you can make them. I won't have you let yourself be soiled by those closest to you. I speak, of course, of the girl you wisely sent as a spy. And your butler, Jhador. They are your responsibility."
The dark haired man set his jaw. He'd known something was bothering him about those two! "What am I to do, Master?"
"It is as I said; they are your responsibility. Figure it out yourself."
With that, the tall blonde vanished. Raven sighed and set aside his glass of brandy. Perhaps drinking was inadvisable at the moment. The hand that had been holding his cup moved, instead, to fiddle with his wooden ring nervously. In truth, the vastness of his purpose unnerved him at times. But obviously Kelsier thought him strong enough to do it, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen him. Raven's gaze was gradually drawn to the fireplace. He'd always liked the flames; they were mesmerizing and beautiful. They calmed him. And, of course, they also provided a way for him to connect with his deity.
He stood, walking to the hearth, grabbing a lit candle sitting above it. And then, he turned the candle upside down, so that the hot wax could drip onto his palm. It stung, but his now-calloused hands had gotten more and more used to heat like this. Pain, suffering, hardship. That was what made a person. The more of it one had, the more pure they would be. And, as Kelsier's chosen, Raven was to be as pure as he could. And, of course, purify others.