The Bright, the Burning, and the Wicked

Two

Casimir Alarie

The city of Corst Neyer brought back far too many painful memories for Casimir, though he'd die before he ever admitted it. Memories of his childhood threatened him at every corner, but he shoved them aside, burying them so deep they'd never see the light of day.

 The city itself was  scattered with thieves and murderers, though they were cleverly disguised as wealthy merchants and officials. Casimir weaved his way through the bustling city, brushing shoulders with both the rich and the poor. The square was littered with ivory and gold, dress and jewelry shops nearly at every corner, but as much wealth as the center of Corst Neyer liked to portray, the city itself was crawling with the poor and filthy. 

And the poor and filthy was exactly where Casimir went. 

Casimir turned down into a dark alley, tucked away out of view. It was cold, damp and a home for the rats. Men and women in worn clothes huddled around small fires in desperate search of warmth. Though the winters had always been trying times, this one had been especially brutal. Even Casimir, through his thick furs and boots, could feel the cold threatening to give him a slow and painful death.

As he strolled down the alley, Casimir felt eyes trailing on him, scanning his body for anything worth stealing. He shot them a look so sharp, it had them cowering in fear. Or perhaps it was his blood covered sword that did it.

He came to a stop in front of a young girl sitting in the corner of a building, bundled with scarfs and rubbing her small arms for warmth. Casimir would have missed her, her small figure nearly melting into the dark world around her, but it was her eyes that caught his attention. Darting cautiously around, searching for someone. Searching for him. 

"Hello." The girl glanced up quickly, watching him with weary eyes.

"Hello." She echoed and eyed his sword at his hip. Casimir raised his hands in surrender. He had no intention of cutting down a child. Not today, anyway. 

"Beautiful weather today." It was ghastly, with darkened clouds and a wind so cruel it could cut sharper than any sword.

"Lovely." She replied flatly and stared at him for a moment more. "There are new trees sprouting on the outskirts of town, which kind do you think they'll be?"

His lips quirked upward. "I'd like to think they'd be birch, though they're more than likely going to sprout bitter oak. The Fates like to smile down on those, after all."

The little girl tilted her chin up, stood sharply and sprinted down the dark street, shooting him a glance to follow. She led him through many twists and turns, far too many, in fact. He nearly cracked a smile, realizing she was purposely leading him down multiple alleys in hopes of confusing him. Eventually she came to a stop, glanced up at Casimir, and with a dip of her head, sprinted off down the alley, squeezing between the bars of a metal gate and out of sight.

"Don't tell me you're running off before you get your money?" Casimir called after her.

"I already paid the little brat." A voice said behind him. It was a man, tall and lanky with gaunt features and terrible posture. He shuffled in his oversized coat, glancing behind his shoulder every now and again.

"You're looking as anxious as ever, Frell."

"You would be too if you were helping a traitor."

Casimir scoffed. "Please, we both know you only ever help yourself." He tossed the man a pale blue pouch filled with bronze and silver coins. Frell caught it with ease, weighing it in his hands. "I'd like what I asked for."