The moon stood alone in the night sky, bathing the grounds of the Royal Academy in a pale silver.
The night was quiet, with the silence broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the clink of armored boots along the wall.
Even with the light of the moon illuminating everything, two figures scaled the southern wall expertly, clinging to the shadow like they'd been born inside it.
They moved with the certainty of men who had done this many times before. Assassins, trained for one purpose.
They slipped over the battlements, landing without a sound. The guards pacing only meters away never noticed.
With their black garb, smeared ash, and the confidence of their movements, they were like phantoms, passing through the academy's defenses as if the walls and wards themselves wanted them to succeed.
Their orders had been clear. The infirmary. The target would be resting in one of the wards.
