Old blacksmith Brian's gruff voice echoed through the small house as he shoved his daughter toward her room. "The soldiers are rough, hard men. You're a girl, Olivia, so stay in your room. Don't run around causing trouble. I'll handle them."
Without another word, he pushed her gently but firmly inside, his hand steady on her back. Olivia stumbled slightly and spun around, confusion written on her face.
"But, Father, your leg…" she began, her voice trailing off. His limp had been worsening, and now, seeing him so determined, it only made her worry grow.
"I said it's fine!" Brian snapped, but his tone softened almost immediately. He gently guided her to sit down. "Look, I know you're worried about what's happening. I'll explain everything later, I promise. Just stay here, Olivia. Be obedient."
Olivia's heart pounded with anxiety. She could see something weighed heavy on her father's mind, something more than just the soldiers. His gruff exterior couldn't hide the tension in his eyes. Still, seeing his unwavering resolve, she nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Brian gave her one last look, his expression unreadable, then turned to leave the room. Before he stepped out of the house, he caught sight of Hawke, the gangly, stuttering youth from the village, standing awkwardly nearby.
"Hawke," Brian called out, his voice rough but commanding. The boy straightened, his eyes wide. "Watch over Olivia while I'm gone. Do not; under any circumstances, let her leave this house. If she tries to step outside, you stop her. Understand?"
Hawke blinked, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Uh… y-yes, sir. I won't let her out."
Satisfied, Brian clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Good lad," he muttered, before gripping his crutches and limping toward the door.
As he stepped outside, his eyes were drawn toward a massive creature sprawled on a nearby rooftop; the griffin, a beast both awe-inspiring and fearsome. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on it, before shifting to the figure of a young man rushing toward him.
Leon, the outsider. He's the key, Brian thought grimly, his mind racing as he braced himself for the conversation ahead.
"Uncle Brian," Leon called out as he approached, his voice edged with urgency. "I saw from the cliffs; there's a large force approaching the village. Hundreds of cavalrymen, but they don't look like Kantardars. Are they part of the local lord's army?"
Brian cut him off before he could finish. "I already know," he said quickly, his voice low. "The boy on guard duty told me. They're not the enemy. They're part of the Orland army."
He waved a hand dismissively, eyes scanning the horizon. "But there's no time for that now. Leon, I need your help with something. It won't bring you any benefit, but I'm asking as a favor."
Leon hesitated, one hand instinctively moving to rest on the hilt of his sword. His brow furrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice. "What kind of favor? You better tell me what this is about."
Brian stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in. "If… if anyone from that army asks about the Kantadar noble that was killed; take the credit."
Leon blinked, taken aback. "Take the credit? But I—"
"Just say it was you who took down the noble," Brian interrupted, his tone urgent. "Or say it was the griffin that did it. It doesn't matter how, just don't mention Olivia. Don't speak a word of what she did, or her fight with the enemy."
Leon followed Brian's gaze to the griffin, lying lazily on the roof, its feathers ruffling in the breeze. "Why?" Leon asked, still puzzled. "Most of the soldiers were killed by that griffin anyway, and I've already got a score to settle with the Kantardars. I could take the credit easily enough, but why hide Olivia's part in it?"
Brian's face softened, the usual stern lines of his expression falling away. He looked weary, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "Because it's better this way," he admitted, a trace of vulnerability in his voice. "Olivia doesn't need to be in the spotlight. It'll draw unwanted attention; attention that she doesn't deserve. You've seen what the Kantardars are capable of. They won't stop at one loss."
He took a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion as he added, "You've already witnessed their cruelty, and your griffin has taken vengeance on them. You're the hero here, not her."
Leon crossed his arms, his gaze steady on the older man. "And what about the village?" he asked cautiously. "You want everyone to think we saved it?"
Brian nodded solemnly. "Yes. You and your griffin friend saved Selva from those monsters. You're the village's saviors." His voice was resolute, though his eyes held a quiet plea.
Leon scratched his chin, the gears in his mind turning. Something about Brian's urgency gnawed at him, but he couldn't deny the logic. "Fine," he said at last, his voice slow, thoughtful. "I'll do it. But I still don't understand: why go so far to protect Olivia from the truth?"
Brian's face softened, and with a slow nod, he finally admitted, "Because… she's my daughter. She deserves a peaceful life, not one where she's hunted or hailed as some warrior. Can you understand that?"
Leon stood silent for a moment, the weight of the old blacksmith's words sinking in. Finally, he nodded. "I understand."
Brian let out a breath, relief washing over him. "Thank you, Leon," he said quietly. "You don't know how much this means."
With that, he turned and hobbled away, the burden on his shoulders slightly lighter, but the stakes still looming large.
Brian's eyes locked on the young man standing before him. The old blacksmith, weathered by years of hard work, suddenly felt a flicker of hope. He could see that Leon had a spark; a willingness to put his life on the line for Olivia. That glimmer of courage was all Brian needed to stoke the flames.
"Leon," Brian began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of a father's worry, "you've seen Olivia in action. You know her true abilities. I'm not trying to boast, but a young woman with swordsmanship like hers… she's like a flame in the darkness, and nobles are like moths to that flame."
Leon remained silent, listening intently, his expression unreadable.
Brian leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "Now, if she were to catch the eye of a good man, I'd have no problem. But… not every noble has a clean reputation. Some are rotten to the core. If the wrong one sets his sights on her, she'll be treated like a prize, a mere possession, and her life, her future will be shattered."
As he spoke, Brian carefully watched Leon's face, searching for any hint of emotion or reaction. But Leon remained composed, his expression still hard to decipher.
Growing more desperate, Brian softened his voice, letting a hint of sorrow creep in. "I have only one daughter, Leon. Olivia is my world. Over the years, I've saved up a bit from my work; enough to see her marry an ordinary, decent man. I don't want riches or power for her. Just a simple, safe life, free from the reach of men who would treat her like a toy. You understand that, don't you? The worries of an old man like me?"
Brian's plea was heartfelt, his eyes gleaming with the raw fear that only a parent could understand. But Leon, to Brian's frustration, merely raised a hand to his chin, deep in thought. There was no immediate sign that the blacksmith's words had hit their mark.
Leon, ever the strategist, weighed the situation in his mind. There's no harm in me taking credit for saving the village from the Kantadar army, he thought. If I accept, our reputation will be solidified, making future dealings with the local lords much easier. It's better for the three of us to be known as heroes, rather than wandering strangers with no ties or status.
At last, Leon spoke, his voice calm and measured. "You're right. No one witnessed Olivia's fight with the Kantardars except us. The only potential issue is the knight we captured; he's still alive, and he knows it was Olivia who bested him."
Brian dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about that. The villagers have already agreed to ransom the knight. We'll hide him, just as we planned. No one outside the village needs to know he's still alive. And believe me, the villagers are more than eager to keep that secret; there's a hefty ransom at stake, and they won't risk losing it."
Leon nodded, the old man's confidence reassuring him. "That's fine. But what about Olivia? Does she agree to this? To giving me the credit?"
Brian's face softened into a faint smile. "Do you think my daughter cares about fame? She'd gladly give the glory of killing that Kantadar noble to you. To her, it's just another fight."
Leon's lips curled into a smile. "Well, if she doesn't mind, then I'll gladly accept."
With a firm nod, Leon made his decision. "In that case, I'll speak to Liam. The villagers are in your hands, Uncle Brian. And if you can, speak to Brandon for me."
The two men shared a look of understanding, the old blacksmith's relief palpable. With their agreement in place, Leon spun on his heel and headed off to find his companion, Liam.
After coordinating with Liam, they watched as the villagers, under Brian's instruction, discreetly moved the knight captive. Tied up and gagged, the Kantadar soldier was bundled like a cocoon, taken to a more secluded spot where no one would think to look.
As the villagers worked, Leon stood back, arms crossed, satisfied with how things were unfolding. But then, an uneasy feeling crept over him. He frowned, feeling as though something was slipping from his grasp.
What did I forget?
He stared into the distance, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but no matter how hard he tried to pull at the thread, it remained just out of reach.
"! ! !"
Suddenly, it hit him, he realized what he had overlooked, and his heart skipped a beat.
But there was no time to dwell on it now. Whatever it was, he would have to deal with it later. For now, the villagers were counting on him, and the plan was already in motion.
A bone-chilling roar reverberated through the sky, sending shivers down Leon's spine. His heart raced as he turned sharply to see what had triggered such a terrifying sound.
Just moments ago, the griffin brothers had been feasting on the rooftop, their playful squabbles filling the air with excitement. Now, they had vanished in an instant.
"Really, Your Majesty Deathclaw? Do you have to be so dramatic?" Leon muttered to himself, a mix of exasperation and concern in his voice. "It's one thing to return as a warning, but to take a stand for me? I worry the griffins might end up clashing with the local army!"
With a determined stride, Leon raced toward the source of the roar. He was not about to become a fugitive before he had the chance to prove himself a hero.
As he ran, he spotted a large flag fluttering in the breeze; a forest-green banner emblazoned with a majestic stag surrounded by cassia branches. The stripes at the bottom danced gracefully, symbolizing loyalty to the king. Behind the leading flag, a procession of knights marched in perfect formation, their colors bright against the dull backdrop of the village.
The knights of Orland moved purposefully down the narrow village path, their warhorses' iron-shod hooves leaving deep imprints in the earth. The once-bustling fields lay empty, the village eerily silent.
Upon entering Selva, Leon was struck by the stark reality: the streets were stained with dark, dried blood, a haunting reminder of the recent chaos. The knights caught the scent of death in the air, each breath heavy with the memories of battle.
As they passed the market square, Leon's heart sank. The sight of bodies, wrapped in linen, littered the ground; a grim testament to the tragedy that had unfolded. His gaze fell upon a young girl crying, her sobs breaking through the heavy silence.
Trosa, one of the knights leading the charge, felt a pang of sorrow. "It's too late," he whispered to himself, regret heavy in his chest. If he hadn't come across the girl wandering alone, he would have wasted precious time tracking down the remnants of the enemy.
Yet even with a change in route, Trosa knew there was little hope. The speed of their warhorses, no matter how swift, paled against the grim efficiency of the attackers. A massacre could occur in mere minutes.
But as he gazed at the pile of Kantadar bodies outside the village entrance, confusion washed over him. The village had ultimately been saved, yet the sight was unsettling.
The girl named Lina had claimed that three young men had come to her rescue. They had shown the spirit of true knights, charging into danger without hesitation to save the village. But the brutality of the carnage left him questioning everything.
The corpses scattered outside were not just slain; they appeared to have been torn apart by a monstrous beast rather than simply defeated in battle. A few bore wounds from swords and spears, but most looked as if they had been savaged.
Could those three young men possess such extraordinary skill? The idea felt far-fetched.
Lost in thought, Trosa continued to ride forward, his mind racing with unanswered questions as he scanned the scene before him.
A thunderous roar sliced through the air, reverberating above the heads of the Orland Knights.
"Is that a griffin?" Trosa asked, his brow furrowing as he squinted at the massive war beast swooping down from the sky.
Beside him, Lina's face drained of color, fear washing over her. "General! Be careful!" she cried, her voice trembling.
The towering knight, Kevin, tensed at her warning. He swiftly took the reins from the Lord and spurred his horse forward, his determination palpable. Gripping his long-handled axe and spear, he positioned himself in front of Earl Stag, ready to defend. The runes etched into the axe blade shimmered faintly, casting an eerie glow.
In an instant, the knights at the front rallied, their weapons raised as they formed a tight military formation, moving in unison. The roar of the beast stirred a fierce pride within the ranks, igniting their spirits to show their bravery before their lord.
Next to the old count, a middle-aged man clad in robes and armor raised a long steel staff, its end resembling a hammer. An unnatural vortex of air began to swirl around him, the tension in the air palpable.
The griffin, however, had no intention of charging into the formation. It wasn't here for a fight; it simply wanted to protect its friends from these intruders.
With a powerful flap of its wings, the giant beast landed heavily a short distance away, the ground quaking beneath it. It raised its eagle-like head and let out another earth-shattering roar, sending shockwaves through the air.
The terrifying sound startled the war horses, causing them to rear back, their instincts driving them to flee.
Sensing the fear rippling through his comrades, Kevin dismounted from his trembling steed. Armor clanking, he held his axe firmly in both hands and strode forward, undaunted, toward the griffin.
Leon, watching the standoff unfold, felt a surge of urgency. He sprinted forward, his armored boots clanging loudly against the ground. Regret washed over him for not shedding the cumbersome armor sooner after his brief fitting.
"—Don't do it! Don't do it!!" he shouted, his voice echoing with panic, reminiscent of a comedic character pleading for reason.
He had envisioned a grand moment where he would emerge as a hero, a vision of grace and valor before the locals. Now, that fantasy seemed to crumble before his eyes.
Little Lina, trembling in the old count's embrace, perked up at the sound of his voice. She squinted against the distance and, spotting Leon rushing toward them, her face lit up with joy.
"Ah! It's big brother!" she exclaimed, her fear momentarily forgotten as she gripped the horse's back, straightening in excitement.