I gathered that it wasn’t an essential part of their diet. On the other hand, the understanding here wasn’t backed by solid science. If Japanese livestock researchers were to run their own analysis, they’d possibly find the feed sorely lacking in calcium and sodium. They might even make easy improvements by mixing meat and bone meal into the feed, or by putting chunks of rock salt in the barn. As Rook’s oldest son, I was probably in line to inherit it someday. Investigating that sort of problem was potentially the key to a happy future.
“That said, some people like an aggressive bird. When we get a special order, we let them hunt inside a special enclosure that keeps the mice trapped inside. Those ones are a handful to train.”
Similar to how some people like unruly horses.
“Why would anyone want a violent plainrunner?”
“Some soldiers prefer that sort of bird, despite the fact most of them can’t even ride it once they’ve bought it. But with proper handling, those birds can rampage across a battlefield like no other. They can kill several people with their kicks alone.”
They rage like bloodthirsty beasts? I could guess from what Rook just said that plainrunners could be used as a sort of weapon. Maybe I’ll be able to ride them in the future, but I’m steering clear of the violent ones. I can easily imagine climbing onto the saddle only for it to throw me off and instantly stomp on my head.
“But I mostly leave the plainrunners to others,” Rook went on. “I get involved in the final stages of training, but not much else. My main focus is caring for the kingeagles.”
“King...eagle?” The name had come up a few times in books that were read to me, but I’d never understood what the creature was.
“It’s a type of bird that can fly.”
I guess he’s breeding birds for falconry too?
“Follow me,” Rook said.
I followed as he led me to another barn some distance away. Unlike the barn that housed the plainrunners, this building looked about three stories high. It had many windows, all of which were open, but there was a sort of iron lattice that ran across each window frame’s interior. From a distance, I’d thought it was a building where the workers lived, but apparently there were more birds in there.
When it came to bird-raising facilities, the only birds I’d seen besides chickens were all in cages and mesh fences, so I didn’t know what to expect. I could imagine that removing all the walls and ceilings from a three-story building would create a spacious enclosure, making the interior a sort of aviary for something large.
Once we’d reached the building, Rook removed a hefty bar that kept a large pair of doors closed. With that, he opened the double doors.
“Go on in.”
I stepped inside as Rook gently pushed me forward.
What I saw surprised me so much that my knees almost gave way. Beyond the doors was a massive open space. As I’d suspected, the three-story building had no walls or floors.
There were several birds living inside, but these were no run-of-the-mill birds—they were extraordinarily big. I estimated that they were about three or four meters long from head to tail. Their striped brown wings were tucked up flat against their bodies, their talons were sharp, and their beaks were large. Their eyes looked as keen as any bird of prey. They were basically eagles...really massive ones.
Rook saw my jaw drop. “Surprised?” he asked with a grin.
“This is... Yeah.”
“I thought you would be.”
“Yes, they’re...”
The birds known as kingeagles were both large and striking. They weren’t fat, doughy things; their silhouettes were sleek and slender.
The building housed five kingeagles. It felt odd that such a large structure held just five birds, but it was probably appropriate given their size.
Though I’d initially thought it was just a set of outer walls and a ceiling, there was also a large tree that had simply been stripped of its branches before being positioned here as a broad pillar. It supported the whole structure without creating a hindrance that would stop the birds from flying around. Thick beams extended from it and connected to the walls, creating perches that the kingeagles appeared fond of.
While I watched, a kingeagle would occasionally fly from one perch to another. It would leap into the air, then—with two or three great wingbeats—gain considerable speed before coming to a sudden stop by gripping a beam. If the beams had been much narrower, the impact might have broken them.
The kingeagle’s wings were covered in striped brown feathers. The region spanning across the chest and stomach varied from the rest because it was white with flecks of gray. Equally beautiful were their bright yellow beaks, which stood out against those muted colors.
“I can’t believe these things exist...”
It was like a glimpse into the marvels of nature, or as though I was witnessing a mythical giant bird—like the Middle Eastern roc or huri kamuy of Ainu origins—brought to life.
“Right?” Rook replied. “They’re my favorite birds. They’re really smart, and friendly too—once you’ve tamed them.”
“You can tame these things?”
“Well, yeah. Otherwise they’d be too dangerous to ride, wouldn’t they?”
Ride?
“You can ride them?” I asked.
“You’ve heard about sky knights in stories, haven’t you?” Rook sounded surprised. “What did you think they were?”
There were indeed such tales, but I’d always thought they were just high-ranking knights; I’d never understood what they did.
“You’ll have to learn to ride them too,” Rook said.
I was struggling to keep up with everything he was telling me.
“Is it possible to fly on one of these while riding it?”
“If you’re not too scared, yes, you can ride one with me. Riding a kingeagle at the age of three is a bit of a Ho family tradition. I had to do it back when I was your age.”
That’s not what I meant...
The way he said it made it sound as though he was planning to fly a kingeagle with me today. I got the sense that he was trying to coax me into it, thinking a little boy like me would be too scared.
“These creatures can fly with a person riding on them?”
“Of course. That’s the whole reason I rear them.” Rook sounded completely serious. My dad then offered his unique brand of reassurance: “Don’t worry. Your dad’s the world’s greatest kingeagle rider.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. Whatever part of my brain controlled common sense sounded alarm bells at the very idea of flying on one of these birds. But Rook made it sound like our family had a proud history of doing just that. Besides, I believed him when he said they were tame, and I didn’t sense danger. In fact, I didn’t get the slightest sense that Rook was encouraging me to do something dangerous.
“All right. I think I’m ready.”
“Good. That’s my boy.”
Rook took the wooden whistle hanging from his neck and put it to his mouth. The sound caused one of the great birds to come down to us. It was hard to imagine that he could pick out a kingeagle just by using the sound of the whistle, but only one of them had reacted, so he must have beckoned that one specifically.
While I stood there astounded, Rook picked up a saddle—different from the one on the plainrunner—that hung on the wall. First, he put a leather ring that connected to the reins over the bird’s beak, then he fitted the saddle to its back and tightened a leather strap around its abdomen. Rather than being flat against the bird, the saddle was a little raised up, more like one made for a camel than a horse. It was designed to be straddled just the same, but the area where the rider sat was somewhat elevated like a seat.
Rook took the reins that now extended from either side of the kingeagle and pulled on them to lead the bird away. The kingeagle obediently followed without any resistance. With the reins in hand, Rook led the bird outside through the double doors we’d used to enter.