(AN: I was working on Witch's Soul, but decided that to continue it would reveal too much, so I'm putting it on hold while I finish Tira.)


Language of the Mad

1591 AD

The masked warriors from the East never stood a chance. They lay broken and bloodied in the hall of the usurer, never having achieved their prize. The gold inside? Never. These warriors, the Manji-tou they called themselves, might be so-called "chivalrous thieves", but she knew that they had other goals in mind. Her new master had told her that many would be seeking the scattered shards of Soul Edge, and that she would do as she had done before they had met: return them to him.

She had taken a prisoner, though, and was dragging him behind her as she made her way to her next goal: back to Ostrheinsburg. This prisoner was strong, and had put up quite a valiant effort. In the end, however, it hadn't been enough and she had bested him. But the struggle made her feel alive: maybe this soul was strong enough to be fed to the Sword. She would bring him back to her master and present his soul to him as an offering. Anything for her lord.

His weapons she had confiscated. Very odd they were: thin bladed weapons, even the knife had a thin blade with a flat end. Even the language this stranger spoke was unlike anything she had ever heard before. Not a language of the west or north, or any language with which she was familiar.

"Say," she said merrily, turning back to her prisoner, whom she kept on a rope, with the other end around her arm. "Why were you there, robbing from that money-grubbing old fool? Hmm?"

The strange man said nothing, but kept his steely gaze on Tira's eyes.

"You're not bad, stranger," she said, suddenly growing angry. "But I don't like the look in your eyes. There's no need for a conscience!"

Suddenly, the stranger pulled her towards him, yanking the rope out of her hand. Now with the rope as his weapon, the stranger dropped into a battle stance, both arms still tied together.

"You look absolutely ridiculous!" she sneered. "But, still..." She laughed. "This might be fun!"

In one fluid motion, she swung Eiserne Drossel out, hacking the strange man's arms free. He looked at her, then at the weapon that was hanging from her belt.

"Oh, you want this?" she teased. "Why don't you come over here and take it?"

The stranger attacked, using nothing more than his feet, with which he was quite skilled. A swift kick to Tira's stomach sent her plummeting backwards, falling hard on the ground. The stranger took his weapon from off her belt, and raised it above his head, ready to attack.

"Well?" she sneered. "What are you waiting for? Kill me, if that's what you want!"

Shaking his head, the stranger let one hand off of his sword, and gestured for Tira to rise. Apparently, he wasn't planning on attacking until she was up on her feet.

With a frustrated grunt, she leaped to her feet, swung her ring-blade about twice above her head, then readied herself for the attack. The stranger was clearly skilled, and for a moment, Tira wondered if she had made the right decision in sparing him. Every strike, swing and parried blow was perfectly executed. She was on her toes from the get-go: she felt that she wouldn't be able to walk away from this fight alive.

She swung her blade vertically, like a wheel, knocking back the warrior's blade. Another swing, and the warrior was now lying on his back, face up and weapon discarded.

"Unlike you," Tira seethed. "I won't wait for you to get up." She placed the blade of her weapon right over the upper arm of the stranger's right arm. With one quick move, she jumped onto the inner rim of her blade, with both feet pushing down. A loud cry escaped the warrior's lips, which ilicited a smile upon Tira's face. Once there was nothing more between her blade and the ground, she leaped off her blade, picked it up, dripping with blood, and hefted it onto her shoulder.

"Hmph!" she said derisively. "I don't even feel like killing you." Without another word, she kicked the warrior's right arm away from his body. Her blow had hacked his arm completely off.


Back in Ostrheinsbrug again, only this time she was empty-handed. Her master would scold and beat her, she didn't mind. Usually, being so close to something so powerful, so full of all the destruction and thoughts of mayhem that buzzed about in her head meant more to her than her own personal comfort. Today, however, was different. Something had been nagging at the back of her mind, something that hadn't been fully answered when she first met her master.

That landsknecht, the one she had met after she met the man in the cloak. He was a complete and total wuss, afraid of her playful exertions of death. A pathetic little popinjay who didn't deserve to live, so she thought: then she met the master. It was completely undeniable that her master, the Azure Knight, moved like that landsknecht, held his weapon just like him, spoke in a similar accent: he was clinging to the appearance of that pitiful landsknecht, but why?

It was a clear day, not to her liking. She liked the fog, it made her able to get the jump on her enemy. Today, however, her prey wouldn't be an enemy, but her lord. It seemed rather silly, to think that she could 'get the jump' on such a creature, one as powerful and evil as her lord. But she had to know, she just had to.

Fortune, seemingly, was smiling upon her. The lord of the castle was walking about the grounds, not hidden away in the keep. From her perch up on top of the walls, she could follow his every move, loathing how much he reminded her of that ridiculous landsknecht. Without thinking, she leaped from the walls, standing directly before the beast, clad in blue armor.

"Tell me why!" she demanded. "Answer me!"

For a moment, the beast looked at its servant with an uncertain look in its red eyes. With the small, 'deformed' arm, it gripped the shade of Soul Edge and stood, ready for battle.

"What is the meaning of this, wretched servant?" it growled.

"You've been clinging to his visage for too long," she spat back. "Tell me why!"

The Azure Knight attacked, and Tira could barely withstand the powerful blows Soul Edge was raining down upon her. Strong as Eiserne Drossel was, she knew that a lengthy battle against the Evil Sword would surely be her undoing.

"We have our own reasons," the Azure Knight bellowed. A great, ironclad foot kicked her to the ground. "Know your place, b*tch. There will be no next time if you fail me."

Suddenly, a hand grasped around Tira's throat. It squeezed her so tight, she felt like she was going to die. It was all over: the master had no more need of her and she would die.

But I don't wanna die! her jolly side bemoaned.

"Do you now understand?" the Azure Knight growled. "The weak deserve to die, and any who say otherwise should die with them. There is only room enough in this world for the strong."

She nodded, in full, complete and total submission to her master's command. His grip was so strong, she was starting to see stars before her eyes. If he kept this up, there would be no need for her anymore. Suddenly, she was thrown unceremoniously out of her master's hand, her tiny body falling hard upon the stone wall of the castle.

"There will be no more foolishness, I hope," the master said. "One is coming to this place very soon, one who mortally wounded us eight years ago. It is our wish that you deal with her and her children before she becomes a problem. We are done here!"

The Azure Knight walked away, before Tira could deliver to him the fragment of Soul Edge she had retrieved from the usurer's vault. He had the blade that was gathering pieces to itself daily, getting stronger. Was there a reason he hadn't taken it now, or that he had spared her life?

This woman, her jolly thoughts mused. She has children, and she left them alone to come here! Oh, we should go and do something horrible to them.

Oh, you're actually getting smarter every day, the gloomy side mused.

After all, that's the way of life, the jolly thoughts replied. Sooner or later, they'd be exposed to the ugly side of life...

The one we're cursed to living in forever, thanks to their damned laws and faiths!

It would be an injustice to the universe and to everything humans believe in if we don't do something to hurt them.

Even their God says life is acquainted with much sorrows, bemused the gloomy thoughts with sadistic glee.

It would be right to expose them early on to all the bad things life has to offer, the jolly thoughts stated. In fact, I think their mother is actually doing them a disservice by sheltering them as much as she is.

That's the truth of it!

"What a horrible person!" she angrily growled. "It's like she's abusing her children, by not exposing them to the dark side of life, sheltering them like little retards! We must do it, it would only be for their good."

Her manic, sadistic laughter echoed out into day, mocking its beauty with darkness.


(AN: Original title was "Death Toll", but since I didn't pay much attention to who Tira was killing and more to what was going on in her mind, especially at the end, I thought a title change was in order [named after a phrase from the chorus of "Harvester of Sorrows", which I don't own]. I feel like I'm flogging a dead horse, but every time I go onto the internet, I am reminded of just how depraved mankind is, and so wrote in this part where Tira is criticizing Sophitia's parentage because she isn't exposing her children to all the evils of the world. Tira is, after all, a villainous character and must needs think like an evil person.)

(In case you don't know, those who use spirituality as an excuse/license to do evil are not good people and should not be viewed as such. Take out of Tira's musings that evil people use any rationality to 'excuse' their actions, or to justify them in their mind...though she really doesn't need any justification for murder, since she enjoys it so much.)