Violence

When my father told me to, "train with the other children," what I discovered was, he meant with the offsprings of other clan lords at the king's castle. Each clan does this so they would have a way to keep in touch by allowing their children to socialize. I however, think this is their way of keeping the spoiled brats from picking on the branch family members.

When I approached, the first thing I noticed was the castle; it was not large as I expected, but larger than any other buildings around. As I neared the gate the guards stoped and asked me, "Morning kid, do you have business here?"

Before I could answer their question, a cute little girl about five or six years old, with sky blue eyes and snow white hair tied in a ponytail asked me, "Are you from the McLean clan?"

"Yep I'm Aster, Aster McLean. I'm also the oracle for the god of dungeons, and this is my friend Death of Rabbits," I added the made up title as a joke. Then I posed, feet shoulder-length apart and arms akimbo, light breeze blowing through my flowing hair, gracing my audience with a dazzling smile that radiated with confidence, with pride, with no worries in sight — that of course included the worry that my self-image and reality might differ greatly: which it did.

If this was earth we would have laughed taking it for the joke it was meant to be, but instead she was looking at me with an awkward silence and eyes dimming with pity, shifting slowly side to side as if words were physical, desperately searching for something to say or perhaps simply trying to avoid eye contact with the lunatic. It's my first time experiencing pity, the look in someone's eyes that projected just how unsure they were about my ventures into the realm of insanity: it hurts a lot.

Tired of the painful silence, I decided to give her a way out, with shoulders slumping I asked, "So what's your name?"

She beamed at me , "You can call me Ally. Follow me and I'll show you to the training grounds."

"Thanks, do you train here too?" I asked her trying to break the ice after an awkward introduction.

"Yes I do, I started about a month ago. Say, can I ask you something?" she inquired sheepishly.

"Sure, anything you want. It will make the walk more pleasant, though having a cute girl like you walking next to me would make any day pleasant." I said giving her my most charming smile.

She giggled a my remark and responded, "Thank you, uh… is what you said true, you know, about being an oracle, or was it a joke?"

"Both," I said and then proceeded to explain everything to her.

"In the end it is about building a better future for the people of this world. People don't need to believe me, in time it will just happen," I told her.

"Sounds interesting. Like you said it will take time and if the sand beyond this kingdom shrinks, then I'll believe you. Well, we're here. Oh look, my older sister is about to fight a goblin," Ally said while pointing.

I looked in the direction of her finger and I saw a woman who had similar features as Ally. The woman sauntered forward onto the prepared dueling ground to face the goblin, her posture was relaxed, her eyes were focused, evaluating minute changes in the tempo of this fight; it was not a chaotic struggle to survive, rather she was a graceful ballerina of death; each movement a smooth motion of her body as her slender arms stretched out, the sword flowed through the air like a silk ribbon to decapitate her partner in this danse macabre; blood falling to the ground like thrown roses to praise the end of her enchanting dance — one that she has performed many times before — swooping down she retrieved a memento of the joy she felt from her accomplishment.

She turned her head to look at us, ponytail swaying sideways cascading down upon her gleaming armor, armor that appeared to be molded on to her body which accentuated every curve, offering indisputable evidence that a woman can be both beautiful and deadly, eyes triumphant, with a bold-broad smile declaring her victory, with small but capable hands, right hand griping a large bastard sword in defiance of any who would challenge her, dangling from the other held the decapitated remnant of a goblin's head to support her claims of conquest. Two words came to my mind at that moment to describe the woman before me, belle mort.

"Beautiful death," I whispered in admiration so softly only I heard, wouldn't do to be too familiar with a chance met woman, customs might not allow, honors might be offended, tiny perceived slights to be revenged, discretion would be a wise course of action when dealing with someone with fresh blood on their hands.

"Alyson, you brought the new recruit?" the woman asked Ally.

"Yes, older sister this is Aster McLean and his friend Death of Rabbits. Aster this is my older sister Rose," Ally introduced us.

"It's good to finally meet you Aster. Are you ready to learn how to fight?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you Rose," I responded giving her a slight bow, "No, I'm not ready to learn."

Rose gave me a gentle smile, "Your father told me that you hated violence, but I promised him, we'll try our best to teach you regardless. Don't worry, I don't expect you to defeat a goblin on your first day. So we'll start you off by sparring with someone your age. Here Alyson a wooden sword for you and here is one for you to Aster."

"Wait, wait… I don't want to spar."

"Too bad," Ally said.

She attacked, legs pumping, arms steady while both hands grasp the sword, in a rising of dust, the distance rapidly diminish between us. She swings her weapon in a wide flashing arc, blurred by speed and the fear induced haze that descends upon me, stopping inches from my neck.

"For a fight to stop everyone must want to stop. My sister told me to spar, so we're going to fight whether or not you want too," she reasoned.

This adorable barbarian was wearing well fitted armor and because of her appearance the title of adventurer, knight, or even goddess of war would be a better report of her profession; however, since she is behaving uncivilly towards me right now, barbarian will serve as an apt description of how I see her.

Somehow I get the feeling that reasoning with this nut-case would be difficult. If she's looking for a fight: if she can't be talked out of violence, if she continues with this rampage, if she intends to harm or kill me, then in that case: I'm leaving.

I decided to counter her with a simple strategy, distract her and then run. For the first part of my plan I hope to stun her with my best gender specific combat magic; as for the latter, well I just hope I'm fast enough. It's time to put my hastily constructed plan into action.

I offered her the universal sign of a person unarmed by slowly raising my hands all the while backing away from her sword. "Okay, listen this is the reason why we shouldn't fight: I love you," I said this with an honest and strait face to the sword wielding woman that I just met a short time ago. She's a stranger, which was quite unfair considering that the majority of murders are committed by people that are known to the victim; but despite this fact, she's swinging that humongous sword with the clear intent to butcher me.

Telling a woman, "I love you," may not be a real magic spell; however the effect is magical, rendering them speechless and stunned for a moment just trying to figure out what's happening or how they feel about who said it, other times they find it funny because of the absurdity. I'm just hoping that killing a person right after they confessed to you would be too awkward for her—perhaps, she will think me drunk or insane and take pity. There are lots of uncertain and unpredictable outcomes from using this declaration, but whatever is happening inside their thought process it usually leaves them with a moment of indecision; it is this hesitation that I'm counting on to save my life.

With those three words I know I'm betting on a looser, but I have little choice. My best real spells are worthless in combat.

She was about to charge at me again, opening her mouth to let out a war scream. Then she suddenly stopped, mouth still opened with a crimson blush creeping in. That blush, however, turned her entire face red as her expression contorted in anger.

"What? You don't…," she started to ask and then trailed off when she noticed I was running.

I was pumping my arms and legs as fast as I can in an exaggerated but cheap imitation of a professional sprinter, with what I thought was a decent acceleration and lead, elation began to set in as I passed ten meters.

Unfortunately it wasn't meant to be, I thought as I noticed the ground quickly approaching. Perhaps I stumbled on something or tripped on my own two feet, that would have been embarrassing, to say the least. But luck did not completely abandon me this time, for my pride was saved by the fact that she had kicked my feet out from under me. Thank goodness, I thought. The aforementioned would have destroyed what's left of my pride, but being manhandled to the ground is acceptable in my opinion. Ah the sweet subtleties of life can make a world of difference, I pondered philosophically.

As I finished turning over I started making unintentional noises such as, "ooph," and "ah." The former caused by her knee in my stomach as she jumped on me; the latter was extracted by her fist connecting to my face.

Honestly, if she would just give me enough time I would tell her that the knee was sufficient enough to get my attention, there's no need to punch me. Alas, that knee really took my breath away, and the term, I was rendered speechless, came to mind as a smile blossomed unbidden at the silly thought.

"You tricked me, do you think this is funny?" which must have been rhetorical because she didn't give me enough time to answer her; rather, she punched me again to add emphasis to her question. I have always found people who would gesture with their hands annoying, but right now I think people who talk with their fist to be downright sinful.

I raised my left arm in an arc, until my hand contact with soft flesh: I knew I made a mistake.

"Get your hands off me, now," Ally said to me with sparks in her eyes.

"Wait Ally, there's a," I didn't get the chance to finish. She slapped my hand away from her bottom, and that was when the talisman activated. The talisman — that I affectionately call taser-kun — sent electric currents into her body and mine, our limbs spasming as we lay on the ground.

Rose ran over to us with a worried expression on her face, checking on us she notice we were fine and said, "I see that we have a lot of work ahead of us."