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The Vultures wasn’t something Lyon had thrown together on a whim. Originally, it was meant to be an organization to support him once he became the Hero, but when that plan collapsed, its direction shifted into a full-fledged armed force.
Just as the name implied—carrion-eating raptors—they recruited without regard for birth. They snatched up talent like prey and swelled their strength.
Though driven into exile, Lyon was still royalty. He seized slush funds and safehouses hidden abroad, gathering money.
He rattled what little remained of his intelligence network, offering extravagant terms without hesitation. Lyon extended a hand to those shunned for unjust reasons: knights born of common blood who never had a chance to shine, or distant descendants of noble houses ruined by false charges.
And it wasn’t only those he sought who came. There were war fanatics who sniffed out blood like beasts, adventurers and mercenaries hungry for rank, and even nobles and knights who had barely survived the Mad Emperor’s purges. All those scattered remnants gathered, placing their hopes on Lyon alone.
Even broken troops, when scraped together, make for numbers after all.
Lyon thought, leaning back in his chair. He calculated the size of the force he’d assembled. By headcount alone, it was still short...
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