#d. casimir.flashback

[agrcn]

Casimir certainly had a way with words. It wasn’t surprising given who his mother was. Agron had never been afforded the luxury. Not until Valerius had appeared did he truly find his purpose. Becoming a Blademaster had been a necessary stepping stone that he wouldn’t have changed for the world. He wished for the Warriors’ Guild to still accept him after this, but Casimir’s words made him feel like that wasn’t the case. Agron had some semblance of hope that his fate would not be as grim as the other was making it out to be. There was a bear as he listened to Casimir, but none of it was fully being retained. Unsurprising given how much he was looking forward to this. He understood the other’s reluctance to participate though. What reason would he have to march against the Tower? There was a fucking diamond encrusted spoon in his mouth. Again, he had the luxury of not being filled with anger and being able to make the choice to not come with.

“If that’s all you have to say…” Agron paused and looked at Casimir. “I’ll take my leave now. If I see you again or don’t see you again, this was my decision. Remember that well.”

A Child of the Night, Casimir was literally born to take the helm of violence and be constructed as a soldier for Lusacan's beliefs. An outlier in the Noctis home, each of his siblings had blood on their hands, dressed in armor and fitted with weaponry, but Casimir could only curl his lip in distaste at the idea. He'd been reared in the Church of Night, uttered its sermons and excerpts, understood the draconic tongue, but still the young heir could not be roused to fight and die for something that may not ever be a tangible truth again. Lusacan's crypt remained somewhere within the dirt of this realm, a draconic god that was meant to bring back everything Queen Lavinia and her war generals dreamed of; the cataclysm and the chaos that plumed from it.

He couldn't pretend he'd ever understand the wrath which melded with pride in the face of a heron's mark. The talent and violence Agron could breed merely from wielding a blade whereas Casimir's own talents resided in his mind and the arcana studied. Privilege of such advancements and medicine were not lost on the Shade, but he would leave them behind if it meant he was not to betray himself.

His eyes grazed over Valerius' prized soldier, someone who was ultimately preened for this life but someone who did not falter. One who jumped at the opportunity to cull and maim, murder and conquer. Perhaps there was honor in a warrior's death but Casimir was not interested in learning such fate when his life had barely begun. All within Veilcrest, the technology Queen Lavinia kept shepherded away from the rest of Lysara, was something vital to Casimir but he'd lived little in the rest of this Queendom's regions and it was time for him to do so without the inheritance of a legacy to breathe upon his spine.

Casimir stood tall as the strigoi stepped closer; he'd never known the struggle of hardship nor the grit of Lysara's underbelly. He'd known the rampant craving for blood, the perpetual itch in his throat and yet somehow he was disarmed of this urge to storm the battlefield and kill, "May you feel peace as you go from this life, Agron." Simple as the freshly exiled heir bit his tongue, resigned from the fight, and abandoned his place as a member and soldier for Lusacan's ideology. "And may the vitriol that teems within you shed with each Lysaran you cull under your marked blade."

[agrcn]

Casimir was already on his way out. Words that left the heir didn't mean anything to him. They shouldn't have at least. There was always the thought swirling around in the Blademaster's head that he would ruin his own reputation by marching on the Tower. The mark would indeed be sullied because of it and he would be back at square one yet again. However, if he thought like that, then he would be putting behind him years and years of pent-up anger and he wouldn't have anywhere to put it. It would just stay there building up yet again only for nothing to happen. This was his only change. Valerius had given him that.

He was not Casimir. He was nobody's son. He had clawed his way to the top with blood, sweat and tears. Agron had practiced day in and day out to get to where he was. When he'd gotten rejected from the Tower, it had only given him motivation to get better because of it. The reasoning behind it was to get revenge on them, but he had been determined to see it through until the very end. If they won today, the Tower would regret the decision they had made all those years ago. The strigoi moved towards the dhampir, a moment passing before he actually spoke.

"I don't need Valerius to place me on a pedestal. This is for me." Agron had waited years for this. Would he have done this without the help of his sire? He wasn't exactly sure how his grand tale of revenge would have played out if he were alone. Would he have gone through with this? Maybe he would've. The Blademaster had been so angry for so long, he just wanted it to end. But Casimir's words wouldn't sway him in a different direction. His mind was made up. "If you're here to change my mind, you can make your leave now, Casimir."

Casimir made a sound of annoyance as Agron spoke of the heron mark, a likely excuse to coat any acts of violence in forgiveness, to mark himself with forgiveness for the slaughter he could provoke. The Shade was not a gentle creature, but he'd never call himself a mindless soldier hellbent on slavering for the dominion of vampires to rule over all - for Lusacan to rise again. Wherever that dragon lay, his time, much like the other draconic gods, had reached its apex and Casimir had little interest in letting them come to the forefront of their world again.

Valerius had his talents, those which clashed with Casimir's more methodical approach to their world - medicine and academia all collecting dust as they refused to share it with the rest of the sorely lacking world. Still, despite his uncle's talents, Casimir had already been told to leave Veilcrest and as such, he gave little hesitation to words which left him.

"Well, Blademaster, tomorrow you shall sully the mark," Respect aligned with the mark and he had respected Valerius' student, but the heir would not stand to see Agron tarnish himself any longer beneath the thumb of his uncle. It was an innate cycle, something unavoidable, Agron was his progeny and so Casimir could only warrant to disappear into the shadows as his uncle and the motley of warriors stalked to Eterna's steps. "You march for foolish principles," Casimir looked not offended, but merely disappointed, "A bright mind trapped and ensnared by a smokescreen. Tell me, is it your mark you march onward for or the sanguinary hope that Valerius will place you further on his pedestal?" That call of a sire was truly deceitful and whatever friendship he'd built with Valerius' progeny was now tarnished and torn as the strigoi did exactly what was expected of him.

[agrcn]

Anger had been the motivation that Agron had let rule his life for several years and now it felt like everything was coming to fruition. It was all because of those damn witches. That damn Tower of Olympia had felt that they were better than everyone. They still thought that was the case and he couldn't accept that. If it weren't for Valerius, then they would still be sitting pretty, not worrying about the creatures that went bump in the night. He had a plan that would work and Agron would be at his side every step of the way. There was no way any of this could go wrong and he would be able to have his revenge. Nothing was going to stop him now.

His sword at his side, he fixed his armor upon his frame. It wasn't particularly needed, but it felt necessary. The last thing he expected now was to see Casimir. Last he had seen of the dhampir, he was rejecting this idea entirely. Perhaps the other had come to tell him what a mistake he was making. Blinded by his own hate, that was simply something Agron could not do. He would never be able to let this go until he saw this through or he was dead.

"I'm a Blademaster, Casimir. Do you know what this heron mark means?" He was sure that the dhampir knew, but he still went on to explain anyway. "It means I can do whatever I damn well please and they should fear me. Everyone in that Tower will bleed. Not me."

starter for @agrcn.

where: within veilcrest

when: the night before valerius storms eterna, 90 years ago

note: alexa play one of us from tlk2 soundtrack

Tears of blood had marked a turning point for Casimir, if he could not be an obedient soldier under the thumb of his uncle's army, then he was ordered to leave Veilcrest at once. Casimir lingered as he looked upon his things, if Queen Lavinia was to stumble upon him again there would be no tears left from his mother, the exiled prince would merely be met with retribution for his defiance.

Valerius and those within his inner ranks had planned to leave once night fully blanketed the realm; Eterna would supposedly cower under the damnation of an undead army. Casimir had barely packed away his things, what worth of his could fit in a small knapsack, so many ancient truths and wonders that Casimir forced himself to walk away from.

He couldn't leave without speaking to one last person; his siblings and mother had disappeared, but he knew Agron was gathering his own lot to walk next to Valerius; he'd been the vampire's most favored warrior yet. "A true soldier; are you ready to bleed like one? To die like one?" From what little truths he knew of Agron's past, this was a dream come true to Valerius' progeny and prized soldier, adorned in obsidian and gold Agron was the true testament to an army primed for the Church of Night's bidding.