The masked figure landed and straightened, then took a position directly in front of Jolthar. They stood at a certain length from each other, perhaps thirty feet, sizing each other up.
Behind Jolthar, Milan had moved to position himself protectively around the still-mumbling Andrion. The carriage driver had long since fled, but he wasn't able to cross the corner as the assassins killed him, and now he was lying in cold blood. The regular red-clad assassins maintained their circle but made no move to attack, clearly waiting for their leader's signal.
The masked man spoke, his voice carrying despite being muffled.
It was neutral, emotionless, the voice of someone for whom killing was simply a job.
"Jolthar Kaezhlar. You've been marked for elimination."
"I'm going to go with the other option," Jolthar replied.
"The one where I don't die at all."
"That option doesn't exist," the assassin replied.
Then the night exploded into violence.
