The Bright the Burning and the Wicked
Chapter 1
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Warning: violence, blood, threat of death
“You came here for revenge,” Heil rasped, blood on his teeth. “No,” Casimir said, stepping closer. “Revenge implies you mattered.” Heil tried to rise, shaking. “Then why—” Casimir pressed the blade to his throat, steady as breath. “Because I won’t let you own another piece of me. Not even my silence.”
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Casimir Alarie
There was a time and place for formalities. This was not one of them. Perhaps given more time, Casimir would have been more gentle, more merciful, more human. He supposed he should have been a bit more lenient and taken the subtler route, rather than the bloodied one he had embarked on, but his time was ticking and his frustration had gotten the better of him.
"I did tell you that it would be in your best interest to surrender, Heil." Casimir sighed and knelt to the ground. His clothes were now stained, streaked and dotted with garnet blood, most of which came from the man before him, wounded in the snow. Heil heaved, the only flicker of life in the valley of corpses which now littered the harsh mountains of Eshra. Blood seeped into the snow, staining it with the remnants of the death that had taken place.
"I'm going to kill you, traitorous bastard." Heil heaved, spitting out blood. "Gave you a damn home when you were thrown out of your own like the garbage you are. Close to nothing and I took you in!" Casimir watched the sputtering old man. He was old and greying, all scars and frail bones. It was pitiful, though respectable, how desperate this man had fought Casimir despite them both knowing who would be the victor. Casimir was younger, stronger, and had far more rage to aid him in battle.
"Let's not pretend it was out of the goodness of your heart. You used me for your cruel endeavors, and I allowed it. Do you know why I let you use me?" Heil didn't answer, though Casimir hardly expected him to do so. "It was so I would feel no pity for when the time came to kill you. And I don't, so I supposed that plan worked quite well."
"Murdering my people," Heil continued, rambling from fatigue and blood loss. He swayed, threatening to topple over.
"Let's not forget you attacked me first, and I did warn you that it would not go well if you did." Casimir's grey coat held the evidence of the old man's desperate attack, his blade having caught on Casimir's sleeves, pulling through countless threads and buttons. He would have to get that fixed once this was all over.
"You killed them all."
Casimir glanced over his shoulder to the corpses on the ground. The harsh mountain winds cut across his cheek, leaving behind a biting sting, as if to punish him for his wrongdoings. "I did."Â
Casimir supposed he would have felt a twinge of guilt had they been anything more than cold-hearted mercenaries, thieves and assassins who made their living on the demise of others. He supposed he wasn't much better, but at least he held some sort of decency left, no matter how little it was.
"You'll soon join them, if you aren't careful."
Heil bared his teeth and let out a chest rattling laugh. "You can't kill me, boy, all your work would have been for nothing is you do."
"You're right, you'd have been dead already had I no use for you. Unfortunately for me, I still need you." Casimir rummaged through his coat pocket and lifted out a piece of parchment. "Familiar?" Heil didn't response. "It's your house deed."Â
It was small, a nearly insignificant house of heartless mercenaries, but it held some worth, if only for its name. It would have been much easier if it were as simple as creating a house, be it a mercenary house, or something respectable such as trade and farming. It would have been so  easy had it been as simple as forming a sigil in order to be approved by the Kareeve Council, but the country of Eshra didn't operate in such a way.
Instead, Casimir had to gain approval of the Kareeve Council if he were to continue on with his plan. He'd have to follow their rules and gain control of an approved household. In this case, the Heil House.
"You plan to enter the bounty for the Creature of the South, don't you?" Heil coughed a spray of blood and laughed cruelly. "Foolish boy, the Kareeve Council won't consider you approved to obtain the bounty without a house."Â
Casimir signed and shifted his weight on his feet. He assumed Heil would have gotten it by now. Maybe the blood loss was causing brain damage. "Why do you think I killed your people, Heil? It wasn't exactly for the stimulating practice of battle." In fact, it had been rather disappointing.
"We are a house of warriors." Heil spat.
"You are a house of cowards and killers."
"And you?"
"I am only one of those."
Casimir gently grabbed the old fool's hand and placed it on the deed. "Now, are you going to make this easy? I'm quite on a tight schedule." With a swift movement of his arm, his coat brushed back, revealing the multitude of blades on his hip. The old man lifted his chin and spat at him, but he trembled, clearly afraid of what Casimir was capable of. Still, he stayed silent.Â
Hard it was then.
Like the merciless, unpredictable winds of Eshra, Casimir had his knife in his grasp and lodged in the man's knee in a matter of moments. Heil let out an agonizing howl, blood gushing free from the fresh wound. The old man whispered horrid curses, howling like a dying dog. That wasn't too far off actually.Â
"I can rip out your kneecap, or you can sign. I suggest the latter. The former would only be entertaining for one of us."
Heil hissed and Casimir twisted the knife deeper into his skin, drawing out another howl of agony.
"You're lucky I've decided to spare the rest of your pitiful house, alive and breathing." It would have been too troublesome to draw them all out into the mountains, though it had been easy enough to draw out Heil. Just the mention of an unsuspecting rare antiques dealer traveling alone had convinced him to leave the safety of his home to follow his greed.
"How gracious of you."
"Sign the document and I'll keep them that way." Casimir pulled the knife from his knee, dotting the snow beside his boots with red.
The man cursed under his breath, desperately trying to maintain a strong front, but he fooled no one. Casimir had managed to crack his resolve. All he had to do now was watch it crumble.
"Sign it." The sky began to darken, hissing with ravaging winds which would tear apart anyone who was unfortunate enough to get caught in the oncoming storm. The Eshrian mountains were not the most ideal place to be mid-winter, but drawing out mercenaries into an unsuspecting place had proven to be difficult.
With much effort, the old man lifted his trembling fingers, drenched in his own blood. He stabbed the deed with his fingernail and grit his teeth. "You leave us alone, damn bastard."
"As I said."
"Give me your word."
Casimir sighed. "I swear on my honor, I'll let you be." Heil trembled and drew his name on the parchment with his blood, ending his signature with a loop. "One more thing," Casimir reminded. He held out his hand and Heil gritted his teeth as he handed over a pendent stained with silvers and blues. The Heil House Crest.Â
Casimir smiled, quite pleased. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Heil dropped his head, sagging into the frost as the wind ate away at his skin, just as Casimir had chipped away at his vicious front. Casimir stood, brushing off bright flakes of snow from his coat. "I want you to know that it really didn't have to come to this, Heil."
Heil let out a chortled sort of gasp. "Please. I bet you revel in this, don't you? Little banished princeling. Thriving off the blood of the innocent."
Casimir let out a genuine laugh. "That really is amusing. How many innocents have you robbed, tortured and killed for coin? You're not exactly one to lecture on morals."
"Have a more honorable agenda, do you?"
"I do, in fact. Something you are undoubtedly foreign to." Casimir brushed the dribbled of Heil's blood off the hem of his coat and trailed his fingers down the hilt of his sword. Even now he could easily memorize every indent and groove of his father's old sword, the blade itself nearly as sharp as the painful memories that came with it.
A flash of fear crossed over Heil's face and he tried to stumble back, but his wounded knee hardly let him get far. He fell back onto the snow in a pile of pitiful old bones and trembling flesh. "What are you doing?"
Casimir watched his face carefully. "Strange." He murmured. He had seen Heil murder without mercy, rip out throats and hearts without so much as a flinch. Now in the place of vulnerability, all his cruel armor had vanished, stripped away, leaving nothing but a pathetic old man.
"You must know I can't let you live. I know you to have quite a loose mouth, Heil, and a vengeful heart. I admire that, but it would only be burdensome to me."
"You swore on your honor!"
"You should know by now I have none."
Casimir swung his sword quicker than Heil could anticipate, barely letting a pitiful cry leave his lips before he fell, nothing but a corpse long before he hit the ground. It was quick, simple, far more merciful than he had deserved. Casimir had never been one for torture or drawn-out horror. No, there was only one person that deserved the full extent of his wrath.
The sharp wind grew hostile, cutting Casimir's flesh with shards of ice. Casimir peered over his shoulder, scanning the corpses already half buried by snow. He knew each by name, having been close enough with them for the past couple years. It should have hurt. Heil, whatever cruel beast he was, had allowed Casimir into his house, into some sort of diabolical family. He should have felt some sense of remorse, but his heart was as empty and cold as the mountains around him. The space in his heart was limited, and it had long since been occupied.
The path down the mountain was more challenging as the night grew darker. The winds picked up, violent and merciless as the snow covered nearly everything in sight. It was a strange mix of peace and chaos. Casimir relished in both.
The wind declared war against him, cutting his cheeks with imaginary blades and stirring up whirlwinds of snow around him. His feet would slip every now and again, as though the mountains themselves were hell bent on dragging him to his death.
Despite the cruelty of the mountains, it was nothing compared to the agony in his soul. It was the type of pain that split and tore his entire being, nearly suffocating him to death. But the pain benefited him in the long run, he supposed.Â
He always did function better while holding vengeance in one hand and suffering in the other.











