The Evolution of Consciousness

Chapter One: Casey

         The Bastard of Haven eased into the room a red light reflected of the thick lotus smoke that filled the room making it an obscure moving wall. In the corner he could make out a slender frame of a man concealed in shadow where the light didn’t reach but where the smoke permeated from. Casey tried hard to keep a steady breathe but failed, in the corner stood Brother of Jameson De’Markus.


         “On the southern slopes there is a brothel,” The De’markus son began. “You’ll meet with a woman and say that Eddard sent you. She has a package that you’ll pick up, in return give her this,” The silhouette gestured to a chest at Casey’s right.


         “Is that all?” Casey asked. The man didn’t answer for a minute. Casey turned to leave, a bead of tense sweat forming at his brow.


         “Oh and Casey.” The soft voice called.


         “Yes, milord.” Casey said stiffly turning to face the man.


         “You have been attracting a lot of unwanted attention, valuable resources are being spent to cover up you’re loose ends. Don’t slip again.” The emphasis on the last three words, made Casey visibly start.


         “I won’t.” Casey assured him, dipping his chest before turning to leave again.


         “Casey, we mean it. You’re life is on the self. If we catch you slipping,” The Brother of De’Markus took a deep breath, inhaling the fumes that were beginning to make it hard for Casey to think, ”you’re brother will pay for it with his blood.”


         Casey’s eyes went wide in the shadows of the room, they had never gone this far. How did they know about Brandon? Casey had taken the greatest pain to hide his brother, he hadn’t told anyone in over a year, and yet his brother’s life now depended on him.


         “I understand, milord.” Casey forced out. The more he thought about it the more Casey hated it.


         “Bring back the Lotus or the crowns. And Casey, I understand you have been working on something of a side project, tonight you would do well to discover its merit.” He added. Casey nodded turned and left.


         Casey left the keep of the De’Markus estate through a side door concealed in the contours of the building, he slipped into the shadows and started around the complex to the barracks. Anger boiled with each step-Victoria. She was the only one that knew about his brother, the only one who’d know him long enough and she had told the Brother of Jameson. That treacherous bitch, I saved her, brought her up from the sewers.


Casey saw her now in his mind as he had saw her then. An orphan, in the murderous society that was the Calmrein sewers. He had been a footpad then, committing petty thievery until he had been betrayed. That night, laying bloodied and half dead he had made a deal, then Victoria had shown up and nursed him back to health- and he had made her the richest independent woman in Calmrien if not Almaeruhn. Casey smirked to himself, I raised her from the sewers, now I’ll put her in the ground.


         And as he crossed the last steps across the triangle courtyard to the barracks and his murder, the sun dipped further into the horizon casting a violent hue across the courtyard before driving the complex into the shadows.


         Casey threw open the door of the Barrack. The men in the room lounged around on fine furniture, with whores on their arms and lotus smoke in the air.


         They looked at him in surprise, Casey recomposed himself spotting Victoria on the balcony of the second floor. Her red locks streamed over her shoulder to her breast. She looked at him and gave a faint smile. “Gather the payment from the keep and pack it on my horse.” He ordered. Victoria began descending the steps, her movements fluid and graceful.


         “Prepare yourselves, we are moving out in ten minutes.” Casey said to the rest of his murder, nodding to Victoria as she passed by on her way to the door. Victoria, my second in command, my rat. His murder all hopped up at once setting about collecting the red armor with the near mythological crow insignia on it that was Casey’s.


Casey made his way over to the armory which was no more than a small room turned into a workshop under the stairs. An old man worked within, he had been here since Casey had, and he was the only one Casey didn’t suspect of plots against him, not to say he trusted them, no he is too wise for that.


         “Shen.” Casey said.


         “Casey.” The old man answered.


         “How is the research going? Have you made any progress?”


         “I have, I have indeed. I think that we have created the first working prototype in the world. This could be worth kingdoms Casey, how did-“


         “No one will know about this, except me, you and him.”


         “Yes, of course.”


         “Let me see this prototype.” Casey said. The old man brought forth a polished silver weapon.


         “It is made up of dozens of a intricate parts, you have to reload and set the hammer between each shot like this,” Shen quickly showed him how to use a rod to pack down the black powder then dropped a metal ball into the barrel, “And its ready to shoot.”


         Casey took the handle of the weapon. It was heavy, and big, almost his whole forearm. I felt my essence prickle as he hoisted the gun looking down a notch on the top of the barrel. He tested the grip, then took a leather contraption that Shen held out to him. It was a harness that fit around his chest, when tightened the straps he was able to slip the gun into a strap across his back that allowed him to keep it loaded, and free up his arms to use the sabers at his side.


         “Notice the pouches on the harness.” Shen said, “You have enough ammo for thirteen shots in them. I’d suggest practicing reloading.”


         “Thank you, Shen.” Casey said, “You never disappoint, but I’m commissioning you to work solely on this project. Perfect it, Shen.” With that he turned and left to meet his crew who were gathering near the stables across the courtyard, Casey could make out distinctly Victoria’s red hair before she pulled on her hood. The sun had dipped too far below the horizon and no light, save moonlight, illuminated the men below it. And the Bastard of Haven and his murder rode.





         The brothel was a two story shack by the docks, the smell of salt and waste assaulted the Bastard of Haven and his crew as they approached. On the front of the building was what Casey supposed was supposed to be a cracken. Ah, so this is the place. I’ve so desired to try their rum. Casey thought. The door was misfit and allowed the light of the hearth of the inn to shine into the night. Casey dismounted and looked at the small chest strapped to his horse. He had meant to pay, he always meant to pay, but the hunger returned. And although it scared him he left the chest where it was, those of his murder who saw it knew that tonight they’d be paid well.


         “Are you ready?” He asked, looking at each man individually after they had dismounted also, they responded by tightening their grip on their swords in turn. “Go.” The men filed passed him into the bar, from inside there was a raised voice, scuffle, and the sound of a body hitting the ground, then silence. Lastly Victoria came up to Casey before entering.


         “She’ll be waiting for you, upstairs, the room all the way to the back and the right.” Victoria confirmed, turning to enter the building, Casey grabbed her arm.


         “Victoria, I need you to do something, no one else is to know about it.” Casey looked her in the eye, and wondered where the lies where- his hand still tight around Victoria’s forearm.


         “Of… course.” The words were spoken slowly, and confusion played across Victoria’s face. Casey took a brown oil cloth package the size of a fist from his satchel at his side.


         “Wait five minutes after I leave, take it out and throw it in the fire. We’ll meet at the estate.” Casey said.


         “Right, can’t be seen leaving together anymore, with the Brother of Jameson.” Victoria more asked than stated.


         “Right.” Casey agreed only letting the satisfied smirk of revenge creep out once he had turned to enter the brothel.


         The first thing Casey noticed was the warmth of the room. He hadn’t felt how cold it had been outside, and I hadn’t noticed how close I had drew to him but I couldn’t resist.


         The second was the man convulsing on the floor. His body moved and jerked in awkward fits, blood leaking into a puddle around his head; waiting, until finally I took him. Then only sobs remained of dock whores traumatized and confused.


         His men were interspersed throughout the room retaining some of the more troublesome occupants. As Casey strode over to the staircase from his right a whisper reached his ear, “Bastard of Haven…” Casey stopped and turned on the speaker.


         It was a young woman, maybe nineteen, not more than three years older than him. She had blonde sandy hair of Calmrien natives, and her eyes were a murky green of a dock. Her face, usually rosy was now pale, her eyes wide. Casey smiled at her, putting her at ease, then turning back toward the stairs gave Victoria a discreet nod she immediately barked the orders. Below them a soldier withdrew his knife and began to heat it over the flames of the hearth.


Casey turned to the stairs and as a second thought added to the cowering bartender, “Spiced rum, if you would.”


         At the top of the stairs Casey was joined by Victoria and Biggie- a fat bastard of a Steppe Lord. His dark skin was unusually pale from lack of sunlight, though his skin was still far darker than Casey’s own. They walked to the end of the hallway, Casey pushed open the door and we entered.


         Inside a woman of noble birth sat at a table against and alley facing window. Casey walked in only enough to allow room for his men to shut the door.


         “Eddard sent me.” Casey said. The woman turned to regard him. Her eyes were a deep northerner blue whatever potential she had to be beautiful was stolen by the prominent cheek bones that dominated her features. She nodded toward a large bag behind a chest near the door.


         “Check it.” Casey said, Grenn went over and undid the fastening.


         “It’s all there my lord.” She said, her voice a smooth liquid note. Casey didn’t say anything only waited, never losing eye contact.


         “It’s as she says.” Grenn confirmed.


         “And the payment?” Her face lit with emotion as she realized that they carried no such bag with them. From under the table the woman brought up a small slender crossbow. I drew closer to the Bastard of Haven, what a prize his soul would be- after all it was only a matter of time.


         In a flurry of movement Casey dodged and the quarrel whizzed free past him. Casey whipped the weapon out of its holster, holding it at her eye level. She tensed relaxing her grip on the hand of a dirk in her boot.


         “We have men surrounding the building, you’ll never-“


“I’m no lord” Casey said, she opened her mouth to speak but before she could get anything out Casey pulled the trigger. A deafening crack rang out, and his arm was sent recoiling back in pain. From below he could hear the screams of the common folk.


         Where the woman had been there was now a bloodied, corpse without a head. He turned.


         “What in the seven hells…” Victoria cursed, she was wide eyed, Casey thought he’d never seen anyone more scared, and I would have to agree.


         “Five minutes.” Casey said, pulling the bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the room.


         The ragged men and woman in the brothel silenced as he descended the steps, his men as confused as those they tried to keep order. He walked over to the edge of the bar where a horn of Rum now sat and chugged it. It burnt, a lot, it was far stronger than most rum and Casey fought the tears away as he continued out the door.


         From behind he could hear the screams of the woman who had named him pleading for mercy, the screams cut off suddenly in symphony of cries from the people in the brothel, she wouldn’t speak out of turn again.


As soon as he hit the fresh air his steps became a panicked trot. Casey hopped on to his charger, and kicked it into action. As he rode up the street, men with dark hair and dark eyes filed out of the surrounding buildings.


Casey stopped at the top of the street to reflect on the scene below. Sounds of iron on iron rose from the brothel as northerners and Casey’s men fought. Men and women screamed, and souls came to me by the pairs. We waited there, in the moonlight. Until it happened.


An explosion cracked the sky, fire lit the night. Dozens of souls were blasted from their bodies. Casey’s ears rung, and he almost fell off his horse. Where the building had once been a crater now existed, and people flooded into the streets from the surrounding buildings, their screams and orders added to the mayhem. Casey turned and rode into the night.





Victoria moved about the alley haphazardly, her head rang like the great church bells and the world seemed to rock. I followed closely as she floundered on the edge of death and life. She stumbled for what seemed like hours before sitting down. That son of a whore.


         She replayed the night’s events in her head from the death of that foreign noblewoman. It hadn’t been long since Casey had left before the woman’s detail rushed into the brothel. From there it was blurry, she remembered distinctly killing a man before being disarmed and nearly decapitated saved only when Grenn put a sword in his back.


That old fool Grenn. She had pulled him into the kitchens and given him the oil skin and instruction, the next thing she remembered she was jumping out of a window, and now… well now she was here, feeling strangely lucky and wild with rage. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back, Casey would kill me on the spot.


Though it pained her to admit it she knew it was true, and despite all her efforts she broke into a soft sob. Give me the strength, anyone... please.


“Give me the strength to destroy him.” Victoria repeated aloud, unaware she had verbalized her plea.


“And what would you do for this strength?” Came a cool calm voice, smooth, and unnatural from the shadows of the alley.