Caska wondered if he was truly an angel.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the forest but the Band of the Hawk was already on it's feet. A tall figure stood
out from the mass of tough mercenaries. Silver armor that gleamed with the light and moved along with him as it were a second skin. Flowing platinum blond locks framed the elegant features more becoming of a nobleman than a mercenary leader. Upon his shoulders, a white cape that gave the illusion of being wings on his back.

For foe and friend alike, he was the fearless White Hawk, but for Caska, Griffith was the the celestial being that delivered her from a fate of humiliation and hopelessness. A fate of suffering and anonymity, the fate she had been born to endure but through his hands her freedom had been granted.

In his shimmering armor, rousing the Hawks for the upcoming battle, he resembled a demigod and she knew that confident and majestic presence stirred horror in the hearts of the enemies, as if they were about to be judged by the gods through their ruthless messenger. Griffith had groomed his otherworldly presence to the smallest detail, yet few had noticed a small detail that spoke of his true identity. The outer side of his cape was inmaculate but the inner side was red, as crimson as the blood he was about to spill for the sake of his ambition.

He was an angel indeed. He was a messenger of death