Crackling beauty

Swish!

Wind passed by.

A man walked through the grass. Droplets of water danced in the leaves with a yellow hue in the presence of the afternoon sun. Perhaps it rained not long ago. At least the sweet earthy smell was proof of that.

The man had been searching.

He'd been searching for over a thousand years.

And though there was mud beneath his feet- his black and white suit didn't have a speck of dust. It was as clean as it could it be.

Perfectly clean, and perfectly smooth.

"Are you him? Are you the passing-" Half a dozen people came rushing and stood in the man's way; burly large people. Very large beards and mustaches. These people were sweating and they had large axes. All of them just glared with grins as the poster in their hands confirmed the man's identity.

Some called them heavy dwarves.

Some, Barbarians.

Some, robbers.

Others- death.

"Sorry, I don't have time to play around." The man just walked straight. "Not in the mood today."

A smell of sweat clouded the soft earthy smell.

And grunts and chuckles clouded, the songs of birds.

The men chuckled some more, readying their axes. If they could kill this lone man in a suit, they'd be rich, very rich.

A bounty of over a hundred thousand gold! Enough to buy a small town!

How could they let it go?

But the man just smiled, swiped his fingers in the air, and walked past the burly men in less than a second's worth of time.

A cloud of red mist seeped into the air, followed by trails of blood. The burly men crumbled to the ground, unmoving.

"As I said," The man in suit walked on with a grin. The red glint, evident in his eyes. "Not in the mood." Not a single stain on his suit-

His search continued.

***

Magic was common.

However, mages were not.

If someone could produce more out of less, that was magic.

But if they could produce something, out of nothing- they were mages.

The popularity and demand of a mage depended on a few things: experience, talent, and luck.

Talent in the magical field was rare but there were certain institutions which took in promising candidates to train them to become great.

Experience also played a vital role.

But luck was the most important of all. If someone wasn't lucky, their experience and talent meant nothing as often those would just go to waste. After all, a lot of really talented people often got beheaded by the aristocrats because they felt like it.

The world wasn't sunshine and daisies after all.

"Even so, I want to become a mage," the young girl said, she couldn't speak properly yet. Her tenth birthday was coming soon. Her clothes were basically made of leaves- and her hair- blue.

Druids.

Forest people.

They lived in forests; they died in forests.

Yet- one among them- one girl wanted to go beyond.

"Did you even listen to what I just said? The world is-" the boy- her big brother, tried to dissuade her as he put a spoonful of porridge in his mouth. He was telling her a story.

Inside this large tree- their home.

"I know, I know!" But the young girl just didn't listen.

"Calm down you two. No talking over dinner!" Their mother was not pleased, no.

The family of three was dining.

The dim light from the small magic lamp provided enough for them to see even in the middle of the night.

In hindsight, anyone would dismiss this place as nothing more than just an abandoned dead tree. An abandoned forest-

But to that family of three- it was everything.

Their home.

"Besides," The boy continued. "The teachers are nothing but old perverted men, just waiting for little girls like you to prey on." He had a very peculiar grin and swiveled his fingers in a very not-so-family-friendly manner.

His long ears twerked and his mouth curved in a very obscene way- enough to even frighten-

"That's enough out of you, Kyle!" His mother proceeded to give him a whack with a ladle.

"OW!" The boy held his head with tears in his eyes, sniffed, and just ate. For the next few minutes, he didn't dare let out any sounds.

Yeah, he wasn't going to take any more risks.

The little girl giggled and ate her portion without a word. But her dream was still the same. 'But I'm 'going' to become one!'

Her dream was the very same.

And it stayed the same for the next five years…. Until-

Until- that happened.

The disaster.

***

Crack!

"It would seem they are dumber than we thought." The young girl stared at the paper and smiled. Her dress overflowed and gently touched the ground every time she moved.

Perhaps it was a tad big for her.

In one hand, she had a paper, in the other- a whip.

A faint cry, from beneath her feet; but awfully muffled.

A man in dark armor nodded. "Yes, your highness. Though their numbers and formation do make me weary." The man however wasn't very optimistic. "I think we should still be careful. After all, anything can happen in a battle."

The woman nodded; small, petite- and dressed like a doll. "Fair enough." She stared around the tent. "But we already own four countries, what could this meager fortress Duchy hope to gain?"

Maids, soldiers, generals, ministers.

Everyone was staring at her.

Even, the crying tied-up boy below her feet-

She was the main show.

She was the commander.

And she was going to crush the opposition- the Duchy of Deyheim.

The last resistance.

"Inform Sir Xerphantalous." The way she spoke the name… sweet. "Let us hasten our plans." She grinned, giving the tied boy a solid whip.

Crack!

Argh- the boy let out a suppressed groan. He was in pain- severe pain- yet, he had to keep his groans in.

After all,

"Yes, my lady."

Some chuckles resounded. The other nobles and even the maids enjoyed quite a bit of this show.

Some faint weeping.

"My lady-" A minister spoke. "But what of the source? What if those royals are actually-"

"I've considered it." The woman smiled, giving the boy another whip, resulting in a thunderous groan. "Even if they plan to eventually betray us, they can't. Victory will still be ours. They're cornered and-" She paused- blushed slightly. "We have Sir Xer." Her smile ceased as she stared at the boy below. "And who gave you permission to groan?" Her tone gradually became coarse and she swung the whip, like there was no tomorrow.

Crack!

Crack!!

CRACK!!!

Blood splattered across the floor, painting it in a beautiful shade of crimson.

Chuckles, giggles, snickers!

And her smile was just as beautiful.

Crackling beauty.