Of Course, My Lord

Of Course, My Lord

A Story by Music's Color

Came to me in a dream that really doesn't go anything like this story, but I took its interesting characters and brought them to life.


“Go forth and show this world who to fear.” Never had any other comment from her master sent such a chill down her spine. It just seemed so evil, so demanding… So pure, in a sense she knew was twisted. Yet in still rang true, compared to most things she had heard in her life; a truth that she was willing to keep up, if only to please her master.


     She stood up from her kneeled position, standing straight before the only human being she truly respected in this world. With eyes of mismatched colors of amber and sky blue hauntingly staring back at him, he had to keep himself from shuddering. He, the boldest, cruelest being known to this country. That’s if, he would’ve been before he set loose the girl standing before him.


     “Of course, my lord,” she spoke eloquently, bowing from her waist, so that her red-tipped raven tresses flowed gracefully across her shoulders. Though young, she had unnaturally long and dark hair, as though it in itself had been magically changed. All the more to add to her eerie appearance is it was. “I’ll return soon, my lord; await my presence ‘til then,” she said as she stood back up to meet her eyes again with him.


     He scoffed lightly as a smirk appeared on his swarthy face. “I’ll readily await your return; your first works, sketches of your career though they are, are sure to be the first masterpieces of many.”


     A matching smirk spread across her own normally delicate features. “Your expectations are generous, and will not be in vain, my lord.” She turned away and slowly began to walk out of his dark chamber, the clicking of her boots resounding in the dimly-lit yet gorgeous marble and onyx structure. As she looked at the view of his domain, a small, shady forest glade village filled with those who shared her own ashen heart - small a heart it actually was - unveiled. Before heading out, she merely stood still, not looking back at her superior, only ambitiously staring at the sky that rested over their kind’s domain.


     “I will surpass you, my lord.”


     With the utterance of those words, their echoes still repeating in the halls, she swooped out the chamber, not bothering to take the lengthy staircase leading down the tall hill; she had always preferred using her magic, the one thing that she had most of the others didn’t. Landing quietly on the ground, she quickly chose three others to follow her on her first journey - a riskily small number for a beginner - before they all dashed into the foliage, the girl flying in front.


     No sooner had she left, the leader was at the very spot she had last been, the marble still a tad warm where his most progressive protégé had just stood. Again a dark chuckle rang through his chamber. “Well, I look forward to that…Mihkail.”




Mihkail Rigger’s cold, emotionless eyes stared on, taking in the sight of a small, quiet village. Almost delicious, it was such a perfect catch, she believed. Without really thinking, she flicked her right wrist in an array of motions, silently speaking to her three comrades that they were to hide, also motioning exactly who was supposed to be where. No sooner had she stopped her wrist she heard retreating footsteps, leaving her alone to gaze again at her first, most delicious prize.


     Smirking, Mikhail brought her fingers - her thumb and index finger curled into an ‘o’ - to her lips, and let out a low whistle. Low but as loud as a dragon’s roar. She had to keep from giggling and breaking the spell preparation as she saw the villagers begin to inquire and panic, the lights of the houses soon turning on, one by one. A light was beginning to form between her fingers. It only increased as she heightened the pitch to that of a canary’s shriek, the light becoming a small orange orb of flame.


     Slowly, slowly, it expanded, until a full river of flame burst out from her mouth, the spell casted excellently. She watched as she stretched it towards the village with her seemingly endless breath, gazing giddily as the fiery tongues caught onto the roofs, the grass, the wooden carts. Within no time at all, the quaint little town was set aflame.


     Leaping from her perch on the grassy hill, she noticed that the others were just about to fall suite, but they remembered that she had ordered them to stay put until her signal. After landing as gracefully as usual in the inferno, she quickly covered herself behind an untouched house, escaping the view of passing villagers ready to help those injured and burned. Fluidly, she stepped out from her cover and rushed toward the nearest house, kicking the door open. Within a minute she’d nabbed a jewelry box, a sword sure to have been crafted with care, and an ornate vase that she soon stuffed into her tiny waist-sack, as she had spelled it to be bottomless.


     Her “shopping” spree was soon interrupted when she heard a man entering. She whipped around, and upon seeing her threatening presence, the man screamed in rage. He wasn’t trying towards her, so she stood still, glaring at him eerily. Though initially frightened at the intensity of her gaze, the man bellowed out, “Thieves! Bloody thieves’ve done this to us!!” before he decided to finally lunge at her. As soon as he made the foolish mistake, Mihkail quickly dodged his oncoming meaty fist before kicking him square in the jaw, flipping forwards to successfully deliver a slash to his stomach with her previously hidden dagger. Dashing towards him as he fell to the ground, she bent down to meet his fearful, life-dulling eyes.


     “I’d watch what I say if I were you.”


     “Watch this…” he grunted as his energy drained. “You’re a monster…a monster.”


     With a quick slash at his throat to end his misery and a jerk of his large body, he stopped, and she coldly smirked with only a small tug of sadness on her mouth’s corners. “Too bad you can’t tell me something I don’t know, otherwise that line would’ve been perfect.”


     With that, she sped back into the village, nabbing every trinket and killing every person she saw and them some, like a shadow. Screams rang into her ears like a sweet, peaceful lullaby. This was her heaven. This was what she’d dreamed of doing; a masterpiece, merely her first, of blood and flames. But soon the lullaby died down as the people were either to little in life or they’d escaped. The latter wasn’t likely. She’d made sure of it.


     Soon Mihkail found herself being surrounded by angered village-folk daring to have a piece of her. They didn’t look like much, but the numbers were a tad overwhelming. She cursed herself for having let this many slip away from her rampage. It seemed she would have to use something she saved for rare occasions. “I wish I didn’t have to waste it on these lowlifes,” she growled, before slowly closing her eyes.


     “Ninka’wa’rei, ninka’wa’rei, shoi’naya senjo,” she spoke softly yet clearly, as a blue ball of flames formed in her palms, elbows hunched behind her. The villagers were perfect idiots and didn’t notice until she screamed as she released the energy, unleashing a more powerful stream of flames on the town, creating a fiery dance of ruby and sapphire.


     That, if anything, was her signal.


     Her comrades soon shimmered into view, their own skills becoming apparent " though unnecessary, with the ground she covered " to her as she stored the fact for later. “Quick, you lot,” Mikhail said with a clear, authoritative tone, “I gave you each a sack. Find and store anything remotely interesting and stuff it in there. It won’t get full. Hurry!” They quickly followed her orders, and she was left alone to examine the villagers who suffered the blast…or what was left of them. She heard a groan. Pricking her senses, she twirled on her heels towards the direction the sound was from. A man sat down, leaning on a wall tiredly, cradling his obviously broken left arm.


     Silently, cautiously, she walked over, knife hidden in her sleeve but ready. Hearing her supposedly-unheard footsteps, his head whipped up, fear pricking the edges of his features. He looked about twenty, give or take a few years, now that she had a good look at him. Fear was replaced by raw anger, and he glared at her furiously. “Come to finish the job?” he snarled.


     No answer. None until she was a mere foot away from him and bending down to reach his eye level; in turn, he screamed violently and lunched toward her, but she soon shot magic in the form of electric-blue energy chains to his wrists. “No,” she finally said. “I’m giving you a far worse punishment " to see us kill this village and be the only one to tell the tale.” She took notice of his pain and lazily looked at his broken arm. The young man braced himself as she outstretched her hand to his shoulder, expecting to feel pain.


     Instead, he was greeted with a gentle touch, and a slight icy, lax feeling in his shoulder. “And in return for this fate I thrust upon you,” she whispered so that only he could hear, “Your pain is gone.” When he looked at his shoulder, indeed, the crooked angle it had once been in was no longer. “But your emotional pain will be ten times worse.” With this, the almost kind expression on her face became one of cruel mockery. It only angered the young man more.


     “You’re a monster!” he screamed, “A monster!” He meant to sound angry, though it was clear terror in his voice. “Look at you " you move like a shadow, a shadowed heart…in the fluid blue of water…” his eyes became clouded, as though he were recalling some foretelling of death.


     Damn. This is just my luck; I get a rambling loon for the one to spread the word of my art, she thought, rolling her eyes. It’s just what I need. Really.


     “Aqua Shadow…” he stuttered. “You’re…you’re the Aqua’s Shadow!!”


     She cocked her eyebrow, looking at him dubiously. Without a second thought, she swung her arm and knocked him unconscious, still casting a spell on him so that his body wouldn’t be damaged until the flames burned out, which should be by the morning to come. “Have a great awakening, little pawn,” she cooed sickeningly, before walking away silently to rid the village of the rest of its treasures, both of wealth and soul.


     Hours after she and her troupe had watched the disgusting town burn to the ground, Mihkail walked silently ahead of the three others, who were whispering amongst themselves. She bit back a smirk as they began talking about how thoughtlessly cruel she’d been to the villagers. She paid no mind to it; this was all to please her master, to please herself. It was all she lived for now, really. She had nothing else in this world. She enjoyed killing. So what better than to have nothing to do but kill for fun and money? To her, it sounded like the perfect lifestyle.


     She had no regrets about the life she had chosen to lead.




“How do you like what I’ve brought you, my Lord?” Mihkail spoke as she and her troupe entered the forest glade that their comrades were hidden in from the rest of the world. The leader, Lord Moran Tyder, looked up from the fire he had with the Court; the highest rank, “Kills,” that he entrusted everything to. Soon, Mihkail thought, soon she’d be among them, right before she took the b*****d’s hide away from the throne.


     She smirked as Moran grimaced. “I see nothing, Rigger. I see s**t,” he spat.


     Her grin widened insanely, and she held out the four bags, each looking as though nothing were in them. “Only for convenience’s sake, my Lord, be assured.” With that said, she flipped the bags over, treasure upon treasure, coin upon coin being spilt about the lush green field, tainting its beauty with the blood money. Nearly eight yards " twenty-four feet " was covered with the loot when the bags finally empty, one bag " the one she particularly carried " lagging slightly to empty.


     The Kills Court were astounded, Moran himself having to lift his chin from the ground with effort.


     “Do you grant me your reassurance, my Lord?” Mihkail challenged smoothly.


     He rose to his feet, his six-foot-eight dwarfing her five-foot-five, and walked up to her, stopping so only he looked straight down and she looked straight up, both holding the other’s gaze evenly, with equal power, demand, and ferocity. A smile of pride crept across his face. “You have earned your rank, my dear Mihkail,” he held out the characteristic purple cloak for their group, except it wasn’t the first rank’s cloak, which had one gold stripe, white designs on the collar, tails, and straps between the black buttons. It had three gold stripes. Blue designs and button-bands. Red buttons.


     She’d become the third rank, a “Hit” on her first mission. She looked up at Moran, letting her guard down for a brief moment and silently asked him innocently if this was correct. He nodded and smiled again, and in return she showed a very surprising gentle smile before she put it on, earning the cheer of the entire camp, as they’d all come out to see her return.


     Mihkail smirked, and suddenly flew up above them all, shocking a few, even Moran. “Fellow Brethren of the Setsu’rah,” her voice rang, instantly garnering their attention. “I request this as my official acceptance in your ranks. A poor unfortunate called me the Aqua’s Shadow in a moment of hysteria. I have thought about it, and I rather like the ring in it. From this day onwards, Setsu’rah, I will now be addressed to as Aqua Shadow!”


     There was a silence, but it only lasted a few moments before uproar began. “Aqua Shadow! Aqua Shadow!” They continued on, Mihkail lowering herself to be surrounded by her new supporters.


     Moran was smiling and quietly clapping, when a Kill walked up to him. “The scouts have confirmed that no life is left within the village. Your protégé has proven to be more formidable than we thought, Moran.”


     His cold eyes looked at his subordinate, and then he smirked. “Is she, now?” The love-hate relationship between him and his favored student began to show as he glared coolly at Mihkail, who in return felt his gaze and glanced at him lingeringly. “I look forward to the day I see so myself…Aqua Shadow,” he mouthed.


     The new most formidable murderess in the country mirrored his calculating, evil look, and mouthed back a message in return.


     “Of course, my Lord.”

© 2010 Music's Color

Author's Note

Music's Color
Well, I hope you enjoyed it. I might turn this into a book, you know, with Mihkail, Moran, and the Setsu'rah, but I wanted to see if anyone really liked the idea, or was entertained with the story. Please review! I'll take anything!


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I love it!!!!

Posted 13 Years Ago

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Added on December 26, 2009
Last Updated on January 29, 2010


Music's Color
Music's Color

San Diego, CA

Born: San Diego, sweets. Age: You're funny, you know that? Height: Tall for a Mexican girl, I guess. Things I Am About: Writing (durhur), music, art, anime, reading, sweets, Disney movies...yeah. .. more..