The large iron pot in front of the village house was steaming, and the rich, savory aroma of meat wafted through the air, instantly making everyone's mouth water. The soup bubbling inside was a mix of radishes, onions, and unfamiliar vegetables Leon had never seen before, all simmering together with the prized ingredient; horse meat.
The warhorses, once valuable and majestic, had been slain by the griffins. Now, the survivors saw no point in letting their bodies go to waste. They would make use of every part of the animals. The women of the village, including Olivia, had rolled up their sleeves to distribute the hearty meal. Olivia's face was flushed and covered in sweat as she ladled the steaming broth into bowls and handed them to the hungry villagers.
Leon watched the scene, feeling a little helpless. He couldn't cook or contribute to the meal preparation, but at the very least, he could assist in delivering the food to the injured. So, he grabbed a tray of bowls and set off to distribute the meals, weaving through the scattered groups of villagers.
In the yard of a nearby house, the carcasses of fourteen warhorses were piled high, victims of the griffins' attack. The village had already started preparing the meat for long-term storage. Leon, calculating quickly, estimated that after removing the bones, they would have close to five tons of meat. With proper pickling, smoking, and preserving, it would be enough to feed thirty or forty people for at least six months.
But processing all that meat was no easy task. The villagers would have to continue working into the afternoon if they wanted to make the most of the horses before the meat spoiled.
As the day wore on, Leon took a bowl of the rich stew to Liam, who was still guarding the prisoners. Finally, he carried two bowls to Brandon's room, where they sat down to eat together, chatting as they ate.
Leon took a bite of the stewed horse meat and was pleasantly surprised. He wasn't sure if it was because he had grown accustomed to the food in this world or because Olivia and the other women were excellent cooks, but the meal tasted far better than he had expected. Tender, flavorful, and hearty; the meat was delicious.
Of course, it wasn't just the taste that filled his mind. As Leon chewed on a piece of meat and sipped from his bowl, he couldn't help but think about the sheer value of what he was eating. Warhorses were incredibly expensive, and every bite of meat felt like he was consuming gold itself.
Just as he was about to break off a piece of the dry bread that resembled steamed buns, a commotion erupted outside. He heard a faint scream; a woman's voice filled with fear.
Leon shot to his feet, setting his bowl aside. Was there an enemy? Another attack?
He gripped the hilt of his sword, his body tensing as he rushed out of the room.
As soon as he stepped outside, he saw Olivia running toward him. Her face was flushed, but there was no terror in her eyes, just urgency.
"Leon!" she called out breathlessly. "I need your help!"
Leon's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's happening? Did any Kantadars escape?" he asked, already running toward her.
"No, it's not them," Olivia replied quickly, dragging him by the arm. "It's that big… uh, griffin? The griffin is back!"
Leon blinked in surprise. "The griffin? It's returned?"
Olivia nodded, pulling him toward the back of the village. "It just landed in the yard where we've been storing the horse carcasses. The women pickling the meat were terrified and ran out. You need to come see for yourself."
Leon followed her, his mind racing. When they rounded the corner and approached the yard, they could already see the upper half of the massive griffin's body through the low wall, its wings folded neatly against its sides.
There it was; massive and unmistakable.
But this time, the griffin wasn't attacking. It was crouched low to the ground, its head lowered, hidden from view. From the yard came the unsettling sound of flesh being torn and bones crunching. The creature was feasting on the horse carcasses.
"No one was hurt?" Leon asked, his concern clear in his voice.
Olivia shook her head, though her expression remained tense. "No, everyone managed to get out of the yard before anything happened. They just panicked."
Leon hurried into the yard, his grip on his sword relaxing slightly as he realized the griffin wasn't there to cause harm. As he drew closer, he saw it more clearly, it was indeed the same griffin he had encountered before, now helping itself to the remains of the horses.
He exhaled in relief. "It's my old friend," Leon muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The tension in his shoulders eased as he watched the magnificent creature devour its meal.
The griffin was sprawled across a horse carcass, tearing into the meat with powerful, deliberate bites, blood dripping from its beak as it feasted.
Leon stood at a distance, watching the scene unfold. "We said we'd meet again, but I wasn't expecting you back so soon, my friend."
Though the sight of the griffin was somewhat comforting, Leon wasn't foolish enough to approach while it was eating. Clapping his hands from afar, he tried to get the beast's attention without provoking it. After all, even friendly animals can become territorial around food, and this was no ordinary pet.
Domesticated cats and dogs can sometimes snap at their owners when guarding a meal. How much more unpredictable could a massive, wild griffin be? This creature might be a friend, but it wasn't his pet.
But his caution proved unnecessary. The moment the griffin heard Leon's voice, it paused mid-bite, raising its head with a dignified grace. Swallowing a large chunk of horse meat, it released the carcass and began lumbering toward him, its heavy footsteps echoing through the yard.
Olivia, standing nearby, took an instinctive step back as the creature approached. Her heart raced. Even without any overt hostility, the sheer size and power of the beast were intimidating. To someone unfamiliar with it, the griffin remained a terrifying presence.
The griffin stopped a few feet from Leon, lowering its great eagle-like head and opening its blood-stained beak. It let out a short, sharp cry, the sound ringing through the quiet air. Its large, intelligent eyes blinked as it gazed at Leon, and it spread its wings slightly, the feathers rustling in the wind.
Leon furrowed his brow. "What's the matter?" he asked, genuinely confused. He sensed that the griffin was trying to communicate something, but its body language was lost on him.
Unfortunately, Leon wasn't a druid, and without the ability to fully understand animals, he could only rely on his gut feeling. There was something about the griffin's movements that felt like a warning, like it was trying to tell him something important.
Realizing that Leon didn't fully grasp the message, the griffin turned away. It strode back to the half-eaten horse, clutching the carcass in its sharp talons. With a powerful flap of its wings, the griffin lifted off the ground, stirring up a gust of wind as it ascended.
It didn't fly far, though. Instead, it glided low over the village, its shadow passing over the homes, before landing with a heavy thud on the roof of a two-story townhouse. There, it set down the carcass, glanced back at Leon from its high perch, and let out another cry, as if calling him over.
Then, without further ado, it lay down and resumed tearing into its meal, seemingly content to finish its feast on the rooftop.
The sudden appearance of the griffin and its low flight over the village caused a ripple of panic among the villagers. People outside Olivia's house scattered in confusion, terrified by the sight of the massive beast flying overhead.
"I'll handle the griffin," Leon called out to Olivia, his voice steady despite the chaos. "You go calm the villagers."
"Be careful," Olivia said, her face creased with worry.
Leon nodded, a faint smile on his lips, and then sprinted off toward the townhouse where the griffin had landed. Reaching the building, he clambered up the side, pulling himself onto the roof with some effort.
Once on the rooftop, he cautiously approached the griffin, who continued to eat with gusto. Leon placed a hand on his leg armor and caught his breath.
"What is it you're trying to tell me?" he muttered, scanning the scene around him. From this vantage point, the rooftops of the village stretched out before him, desolate and silent, a reminder of the devastation that had struck only a day before. The wind carried the scent of burning wood and smoke, mixing with the distant cries of the survivors.
Then, as his eyes traveled further into the horizon, it clicked.
He finally understood.
The griffin's behavior, its decision to land here, the urgency in its calls; it was all a warning. Leon's heart sank as the realization dawned on him. There was something out there, something beyond the village that the griffin had noticed. Something that required their attention, and possibly their defense.
Back in the village, the women and children who had been startled by the griffin's low flight had fled to Olivia's home. Olivia quickly followed, her voice calm and steady as she tried to reassure them.
"Don't worry," she said, her tone soothing. "The griffin is a friend, not an enemy."
But many of the survivors weren't so easily convinced. They had witnessed firsthand how this very same creature had mercilessly slaughtered the Kantadari invaders the previous day. To them, the griffin wasn't a friend, it was a force of nature, as dangerous as it was majestic. Trust was hard to come by after so much blood had been spilled.
The brutal and terrifying memory of the griffin's attack still lingered in the villagers' minds. Despite Olivia's attempts to reassure them, her words seemed to have little effect. To them, the creature was still a man-eating monster from the old stories, and the fear that it could turn violent again gnawed at their hearts.
Just as panic threatened to take hold, a familiar voice rose above the murmurs.
"Fellow villagers, please listen to my daughter. Griffins are noble creatures, not common beasts. They do not eat humans."
Olivia turned, surprised to see her father, Brian, standing at the doorway. At some point, the old blacksmith had managed to leave his bed, though his movements were shaky. Still, his voice carried weight, and the respect the villagers had for him was clear. His words, simple yet firm, began to calm the women and children who had been half-frozen in fear.
"Father, why are you out of bed?" Olivia rushed to his side, gently supporting him as he swayed slightly on his feet.
With a tired smile, Brian replied, "How could I stay in bed with all this noise outside?"
He took a moment to catch his breath before asking, "So, it's true then? There's really a griffin outside?"
Olivia nodded, her eyes brightening with recognition. "Yes! It's the same one I told you about before, the one that saved us." But then, a thought struck her, and she furrowed her brow. "Wait... Father, how do you know about griffins?"
Brian waved the question away with a vague smile. "I've picked up bits and pieces over the years. Nothing much."
He shifted his weight and looked toward the door. "Take me outside, Olivia. If the griffin has formed a bond with those young people, it won't bring harm to us."
Before they could move, a young man burst into the house, gasping for breath. His face was pale, and his words stumbled out in a frantic rush.
"Olivia! Out... out... outside the village!" he panted, nearly doubling over from exhaustion.
Brian took a step toward the young man, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hawke, slow down. What is it? What's happened?"
"Mil... military! Outside the village... military!" Hawke stammered, his voice rising in panic.
Brian's brow furrowed. "The army? Is it the lord's forces?"
Hawke shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "No... no! It's not the lord's rose flag... it's a deer. A deer's head on the flag!"
Brian's eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. "A deer head? On a green banner?"
Hawke nodded furiously. "Yes! That's it!"
The old blacksmith's face grew serious, his eyes narrowing. "Trosa…" he muttered under his breath. "Lord Trosa."
---
Meanwhile, outside the village, on a hill overlooking Selva, a brown-haired girl sat on horseback, her red eyes fixed on the scene below. Her face was tight with emotion as she pointed toward the village. Behind her sat a grizzled old man, his armor gleaming in the sunlight.
"Don't worry," the man said softly, placing a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "I will make sure those who committed these crimes pay the price."
"General!" A scout came riding up, his horse kicking up dust as he approached the formation. He halted before the armored man and gave a hurried salute. "No enemy forces have been spotted, but we've found something strange."
The old man, Count Trosa, narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"
The scout swallowed hard. "There are bodies outside the village, sir. Piled up. Most of them are incomplete. At least thirty."
Lina, the girl on horseback, gasped, her mouth quivering as she fought back tears. "Are they... are they the villagers?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The count, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, turned to the scout. "Are the dead the villagers of Selva?" he demanded.
The scout shook his head quickly. "No, General. I checked. They're all Kantardars."
At this, Count Trosa's stern expression faltered for a moment, confusion creeping into his features. "Kantardars?" he repeated, baffled. The pieces weren't adding up. Why would there be a pile of dead invaders?