Day 371, 11:20 AM

“Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment — that which they cannot anticipate.”

— Sun Tzu

The royal cavalry crawls out into the fields surrounding Eaglegord, spreading like roaches. The heavies are at the front, each company led by what I’m guessing is a knight. Their breastplates are covered in gilded motives, their helmets styled like animal heads or adorned with wings, horns, and tusks.

Five out of six have squires, knights in training, following right behind them, their equipment fancier than that of regular cavalry, but not as fancy as their mentors’.

That might be the true reason behind their prowess. Knights level in several combat oriented classes in quick succession, each more powerful than the last. If they randomly get skills of above Initial grade they become even stronger and their growth snowballs, since they probably need martial feats to further increase their level.

I contemplate the reason behind knights’ power and pick at my nose while observing them from atop Grif. The griffon is standing on a thick branch some seventy feet above ground, like a tiger ready to strike.

But it’s not time yet. If Manny follows my instructions it should make life easier for the both of us. If not, I guess I’ll have to do things the hard way.

The heavy cavalry fans out. I expected they would dismount and start getting ready for their followers to set up camp, but I guess I was naive. Instead of resting, they make a long line formation for charging and bang their lances against their shields as light cavalry spills onto the fields, trampling the sprouting wheat.

The light cavalry forms up into square and rectangular formations. The especially well equipped unit protecting a chubby man well into his fifties. I’m too far away to see him now, but when he passed near my tree, he was breathing heavily and sweating. I guess several weeks in the saddle failed to toughen him up.

“I crown prince Corvein Garash, the heir to the throne of Garacia, am here to capture the traitorous spawn of Eagleeye family, who dared take arms against her rightful liege,” the prince says into a device resembling a megaphone. “Manuella Eagleeye, step forth and accept your lawful sentence of death by hanging. There is no need to involve the innocent citizens of our kingdom.”

The crown prince pauses, but there is no sound from Eaglegord’s walls.

“The woman ruling your city is no noble. She is a common whore, the most used one in the entire kingdom.” Grif suddenly growls, and I release his feathers, realizing a moment too late I was hurting the beast.

I am going to ram a spear up your ass and wave you in front of your army, you son of a bitch.

I can barely hold myself back as Corvein Garash spews horror stories, dragging my wife’s name through shit. Hatred. Fury. Rage. They seethe and boil within me, and I’m determined to capture the crown prince alive. To torture him for days or weeks. To deliver him to his father as a ruined mess of a human.

I’m not the only one disgusted. Soldiers scream and shout from the wall, but that only seems to elate the bastard, whose voice is a step away from laughter.

Finally, the gate opens and men start marching out of Eaglegord, cursing and howling. I told Manny to have the infantry leave the walls and bait the enemy, but whoever is in charge opened the gates too soon. Half the royal infantry still hasn’t completely entered the open plain, and I can see some five hundred cavalry acting as rear guard.

We won’t destroy them completely today, but at least we can deal a heavy blow. As long as I capture the crown prince, this will be our victory.

“Charge,” prince Corvein shouts, eagerness and bloodlust dripping from his voice.

Grif rears at the sudden thunder as hundreds of hooves hit ground and the cavalry charges. The branch shakes, and we take off as well.

Barely two to three hundred infantry have made it out of Eaglegord, and while I can’t see them, I imagine the men trembling as a tsunami of steel and horses roars towards them.

Grif moves like a flash of lightning. We’re above the walls before the cavalry makes it half way there. I glance at the battlefield. The royal infantry is slowly advancing to form ranks, paying no heed to the cavalry, who have their spears and lances at the ready, preparing to impale the helpless infantry.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Now.

We dive towards the leading knight wielding a black war hammer.

I pull on Grif’s feathers with all the strength I can muster and he screeches. The cavalry’s thunder disappears, swallowed by the clear, bell-like peal. Horses freeze, some fall over, some rear or start bucking, while a scant few have the presence of mind to turn around and run.

For a split second, the spectacle happens in a soundless world, all noise driven out by Grif’s cry, then sound crashes back into the world like a wave.

Grif grabs the black knight’s winged helm, and I grab his pole arm. My body jerks as Grif pulls the man out of his saddle and rises. Glancing down, I see a twitching corpse and blood seeping out of Grif’s clenched claws.

He crushed his skull and helmet like an egg. I gulp at the thought, then focus on my new weapon and drive Grif lower with my knees.

Most of the panicked horses below me have thrown off their riders, trampling all humans unlucky enough to get in their way. About a tenth of the heavy cavalry are still mounted, their destriers galloping towards the forest. They are too scattered, and I can’t eliminate them all.

Grif is already heading after one, and I swing my war hammer, opening a hole in the helmet and the man’s head. I don’t see what has happened to him as I head for the next target.

The third knight is struggling against his horse, trying to turn the beast around, and dies without knowing what happened.

I look in the direction he was looking at and see the object of his interest. The crown prince.

He and his entourage are on foot, the hundred men surrounding him down to less than thirty. Two of them are helping him walk, his leg probably broken.

I hesitate for a moment, but Grif is already flying forward.

He’s slow. I have enough time. I nudge my griffon and we kill two more knights before the remaining heavies escape into the forest.

That’s five. I’m one short of the full set, but eliminating five knights with hardly any effort would have been beyond my wildest dreams just a week ago.

[You have leveled up.

Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.

Exceptional Endurance - You are able to better endure fatigue, lack of sleep and food.

Initial Poison Tolerance - You are able to better resist the effects of all poisons.]

BSD appears just as I’m about to head for Corvein. I clench my knees, and Grif is flying towards the crown prince’s party while I’m reading my options.

They are both good choices, they make me a tougher bastard than I already am.

Initial Poison Tolerance, I think, not willing to let the crown prince slip during a moment of inattention.

The faint blue screen disappears, and Grif and I are upon the prince’s party. Grif tears two men to shreds with a single swipe of his claw, and the soldiers scream, scattering in blind panic. The fat fucker drops to the ground, squealing like a pig. Grif jumps on the next nearest target, mincing three men in several sweeps, but I’m hardly paying any attention to my mount. What I’m focused on is the swine crawling across the plowed field.

I look around again, and there’s no cavalry coming to help him. The infantry is running the hell away from the castle, some of them moaning from the ground, trampled by the panicked horses.

I clear the fleeing bodyguards. They must have been elites for the king to assign them to protect the heir apparent. Killing them off now means fewer powerful combatants for our enemy in the future.

I look back down at the sobbing crown prince.

He ain’t going nowhere.

Grif and I finish off the bodyguards in less than five minutes, Grif’s beak bloody from the snacks he snatched.

I need to feed him properly. I jump off his back, landing in front of the prince, when suddenly my whole back flashes with phantom pain.

I use the jump’s inertia and roll forward. A bloody talon whistles above me, and I see my attacker.

Grif?

The griffon’s eyes are scarlet with fury. He lunges forward with his beak and my abdomen flares with Danger Sense. I twist to the side, and the beast pounces, ripping the crown prince to pieces.

I use the moment to take a proper stance, the black hammer in my hand and a monster which BSD described as this world’s apex predator staring death at me.

I was angry, furious, indignant, yet looking at those blazing, crimson eyes, I can’t help but think that I have no idea what true rage is.

Grif jumps at me again, but this time Danger Sense doesn’t trigger, I avoid the attack through my own power, smacking him on the side of the beak with the black hammer. The blow doesn’t even faze him as he turns around and swipes a claw at me.

I jump back, and he follows, slashing at me in an insane flurry. Wind buffets my face, throwing my hair around. Fresh blood splatters my face as it flies off the griffon’s claws, and for the first time I realize how much Grif’s breath stinks of corpses and murder.

I’m glancing down and behind whenever I get the chance, but it’s not enough. I trip on a trampled corpse and my whole head flashes with illusory pain. Grif is about to smash my head into a pulp, like he did that black knight’s.

Redo is red.

I roll, but I’m too late. Half my face burns. I see nothing but blood, when a blue screen appears framed by a backdrop of black and red.

[Rage activated.

Duration - two minutes six seconds]