The Vulture King relished slipping his consciousness into the body of his vulture, controlling the bird and looking down upon the world from the sky through its eyes.
The feeling of being high above, with everything under his control, was intoxicating.
First, he circled over Vulture's Roost, the castle that had troubled him for more than ten days.
Vulture's Roost was a castle perched on high ground on the west bank of the Torrentine, jutting out like a crag from the forest.
It sat at the foot of the Red Mountains, and compared to the majestic, rolling peaks behind it, the castle seemed incredibly small.
The stonework had long been eroded by time, with moss growing wild in the cracks of the walls.
Yet, this small castle was proving to be a thorn in his side.
Inside were over four hundred well-trained archers and guards sent from Starfall and High Hermitage, along with able-bodied Dornishmen who had fled from across the west bank to take refuge there.
The mountain clans were not skilled at siege warfare. Over the past ten days, they had attempted direct assaults and night raids, but all had been repelled.
Circling the small castle again, the Vulture King was surprised to find that the guard on the battlements seemed less strict than before. The north and south gates, which usually had at least six men guarding each, now only had three.
Even the number of archers in the towers and on the battlements had visibly decreased.
"It seems our attacks haven't been entirely useless. We've inflicted significant casualties."
The Vulture King mused to himself, planning to summon the tribal chieftains later to intensify the assault and take Vulture's Roost soon.
With a flap of his wings, he flew toward High Hermitage on the opposite bank of the Torrentine.
Yesterday, the chieftain of the Stone-Goat Tribe, whom he had ordered to fell trees and build rafts in the middle reaches, reported that Starfall's main force was gathering to the north, though five hundred men remained to garrison the watchtowers in the middle reaches.
In truth, he had no intention of sending men across the river on rafts. It was mostly a feint to confuse the Dornishmen and tie down part of their forces. Of course, if the Dornishmen truly left the crossing undefended, he wouldn't mind taking a gamble.
After flying for about a quarter of an hour, the Vulture King saw High Hermitage—and, as his scouts reported, the main force of Starfall within its walls.
Last night, he had sent a small raiding party under the cover of darkness to the east bank to pillage, wanting to see how the commander of Starfall's main force would respond.
Would they blockade the stone bridge to prevent raids, or would they lead their army across the bridge for a decisive battle?
"It seems they lack the confidence to defeat us."
Perched atop the highest tower of High Hermitage, the Vulture King observed the courtyard and training yard, where knights and guards were drilling the levies.
"Judging by this posture, they haven't even blocked the stone bridge. They likely won't cross the river anytime soon."
He cast a greedy glance at the weapons and armor of the knights and guards, far superior to his own men's gear.
"I need to take Vulture's Roost quickly, then wait for the critical moment to force a decisive battle. All those weapons and armor will be mine."
Woooo—
Just as the Vulture King was coveting the equipment, the continuous sound of horns in the distance drew his attention.
Turning his head, he saw over thirty cavalrymen gathering at the castle's north gate. Each rider led a second horse. It looked like they intended to ride north to hunt down the small raiding party he had sent last night.
"You'd best not scatter," the Vulture King thought without hesitation, spreading his wings and taking to the sky. A flash of human cruelty passed through the bird's eyes.
"Otherwise, you'll become my hunting ground."
From high above, he looked at the banner of the cavalry troop leaving the city: the purple flag of the sword and falling star of Starfall.
To the Vulture King's surprise, beneath the banner rode a tall, unfamiliar figure clad in strange armor he had never seen before.
If he guessed correctly, this person's identity must be special.
"It shouldn't be that little boy Lord of Starfall. A cousin from a cadet branch? Or the commander of this force?"
"If it's the commander, then I've hit the jackpot!"
As he watched, he was even more delighted to see the troop split into three squads. The riders in these squads then spread out further, leaving the fellow in the strange armor under the Starfall banner with only three companions.
The Vulture King was certain that of the other three, one was the standard-bearer, and the other two looked like guards or squires. The one in the strange armor was definitely a big fish.
However, before eating the main course, he always liked to have some appetizers.
The Vulture King spotted a solitary rider who had gone to the river to fetch water. He folded his wings and dove.
Wind rushed past his feathers, his hawk eyes locked on the target, and the ground rushed up to meet him.
When he was about a meter above the rider, the Vulture King suddenly spread his wings. His talons, sharp as daggers, shot out, carrying the momentum of the dive to slam into the rider's shoulders.
The Vulture King could feel his talons piercing the leather armor and sinking into the rider's flesh.
Hearing the scream of the rider below and the crunch of bone shattering under his grip, he felt an immense pleasure.
Tweeeet—!
Just as the Vulture King was reveling in the sensation, the sharp sound of a bone whistle rang out nearby.
Not lingering, the Vulture King pushed off the rider with his talons, released his grip, flapped his wings, and soared rapidly back into the sky.
Looking back at the rider who had blown the whistle, he watched the arrow shot at him fall harmlessly away, unable to reach his height. A flicker of mockery passed through his eyes.
"Want to hit me with a bow? Unless you give the arrow a pair of wings."
The Vulture King circled in the sky for a while longer. Seeing that the troop remained dispersed, he repeated his trick, shattering the shoulder of another rider.
In truth, he could have killed them. He spared the two riders because wounded men require others to care for them and transport them back.
The Vulture King fixed his gaze on the knight in the strange armor. As his manpower dwindled due to the wounded, the knight actually sent his two guards away, keeping only the standard-bearer with him.
"You served the main course yourself. Don't blame me!"
The Vulture King's hawk eyes gleamed with excitement. He folded his wings and dove again, talons aimed at the rider in the strange armor—the big fish.
"Let me hear your scream!"
When the Vulture King's talons slammed into the big fish's shoulders, something felt wrong. His sharp talons couldn't penetrate the armor woven from vines.
Just as he prepared to retract his claws and strike at the big fish's neck for a kill, he felt a heavy impact on his right wing. His body lost balance.
The Vulture King fought the agonizing pain, trying to use his left wing to stabilize and regain flight.
Thwip! Another bowstring sang.
He felt a heavy blow to his left wing, followed by searing pain. He could no longer stabilize himself and plummeted from the sky.
"Who shot that arrow? There was only a standard-bearer near the big fish!"
The Vulture King struggled to look in the direction of the standard-bearer.
The banner had been thrown to the ground. The "standard-bearer" now held a hard-wood bow in both hands, and a pair of unforgettable violet eyes were staring right at him.
"Those eyes..."
The Vulture King was involuntarily drawn to those violet eyes. The next instant, his vision went black. When he opened his eyes again, his consciousness had returned to his own body, surrounded by his familiar tent.
The Vulture King closed his eyes and concentrated, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not reconnect with his vulture.
In that moment, the Vulture King felt a chill run down his spine. This was something he had never encountered before.