Was Jam usually this big? She used to be the size of a normal-sized raven, but right now, she was as big as a cat. Her feathers brushed my arms, and then I had to put her on the ground because she got bigger than a golden retriever. She only stopped growing when she was as large as a horse; her soft feathers shimmered in the sun, and the shaking of her body ceased. She was so incredibly… Cuddly… The perfect size for a feather-down bed.
Almost immediately, her beady little eyes snapped open, sparkling with triumph. She sprung up and hopped about, admiring herself. “I did it! I got stronger!”
Confusedly, I stared at her, the creatures in this world were truly magical.
She looked at my expression and, as if reading my mind, said, “In my clan, we get bigger with each life-or-death experience we go through.”
…That is so random.
“That’s why no one came to rescue you when you got kidnap-bird napped by the marquis?”
Jam nodded vehemently, “Bingo! But I can also switch between sizes so I can do sneaky stuff better.”
I didn’t remember ever reading about that kind of magical creature in the novel. It was too much thinking for one day. Jam returned to her normal size, and we talked all the way back to the camp.
As soon as I arrived back, I was met with stares, but not the ones I usually accustomed to; it was not pity, revulsion, or hatred, but admiration. An errand boy awaited me and brought me directly to the platoon commander. He was tall and had coarse brown hair; his chin had a field of unshaven stubble; he seemed tired and in need of a hot bath.
He looked up from his desk as I walked into his tent; I could feel his eyes on me, sizing me up. I saluted, and then, without a word, he placed a heavy bag of clinking coins onto the table and pushed them towards me. I held my breath as I walked out.
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It was that easy. I could murder as long as people wanted them dead. Wait, I could just kill as long as I wanted them dead. My train of thought took a hard right as I walked.
On my way back to my tent, so many people talked to me; jokes flew about me paying for everyone’s beer and the like.
I hid the money on my person; it was 15 silver coins. Enough for a family to live on for a few weeks. Because we would be leaving tomorrow morning, I took all my dirty clothes to the river, far away from where the others usually washed theirs.
I decided to take a bath while doing my laundry. However, as I bent over the cool flowing river, the reflection that looked back at me made me mad. In my haste to get strong and survive daily, I had pushed back my anger for the Marquis.
Staring at the curly black head of hair and the piercing green eyes reminded me that as long as that noble lived, I would be his little chained-up dog, with one order made to live or to die. But now… Now, I was much stronger than a stray mutt.
A smile curved across the unfamiliar face that stared at me through the rippling water. Plans changed.
I would just kill the Marquis instead of faking my death. I splashed away my reflection with my first load of laundry.
I mapped out my course of action for the night. It would be a long one. I had done some flying tests with Jam, and she was wonderful at transportation. She could easily fly thirty miles in a matter of minutes with a grown adult on her back as well. It was a plus that she was also a lot more comfortable than a carriage, and her feathers were smooth and soft. If we flew for about three hours straight, I would have been able to arrive at the Marquis’ estate.
It was perfect because no one would have an inkling that it was me. Strapping the necessities of the journey to my body, my knife, some healing supplies, and treats for Jam. In the din of soldiers packing up for the next morning's leave, no one would be the wiser at my absence. I blended with the shadows around the camp and snuck into the forest's darkness.
After checking if I had everything, I climbed atop Jam, and we were off. In all of my plans, I did not account for how much I would enjoy flying. It was like all attachments to reality disappeared, and it was just Jam and me; there was no need to think or even breathe. Then, my mind began the run-through of defeating the Marquis. In all my eavesdropping in the inner corridors of his estate, I had learned that he himself was not a great swordsman, but he had a lot of magical artifacts. Coupled with his ever-present bodyguards, it was quite difficult to even be in his presence with a weapon.
