The Bright, the Burning, and the Wicked

One

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." 

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." 

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.