In the barracks southeast of town.
The soldiers trained by the Rose School were fast asleep. Only a few were on guard duty in the camp.
Around a hundred refugees quietly converged on the place from different directions.
They hid in the shadows and behind various obstacles, in no hurry to act.
A figure in a gray cloak stepped out and crept toward the gate, using whatever cover was available.
Then the figure began to chant a poem.
"Ah, the threat of fear, the crimson hope!
At least one thing was true: this life sped past.
One thing was true, and all the rest were lies,
Once the flower bloomed, it would bid the world farewell..."
The song, like a lullaby, echoed around the camp gate, washing over the soldiers who were already nodding off.
Their eyelids swiftly grew heavier, and they fell asleep standing up.
The refugee then stepped forward and slit the soldiers' throats with a sharp dagger.
The night guards died in their sleep.
After entering the camp and approaching the dormitories, the refugee sang again, sending the soldiers inside into an even deeper sleep.
Finally, the figure nodded.
The refugees streamed into the barracks dormitories, one after another.
Drawing sharp daggers, their eyes gleaming, they quietly approached the sleeping soldiers.
They killed them in their sleep.
One soldier meant one gold coin.
The refugees all grew crazed with bloodlust.
Eventually, they stopped bothering to cover mouths and slit throats.
They simply plunged their blades into their enemies' chests, piercing their hearts.
A moment later.
Someone finally woke with a start and cried out, followed by the clash of weapons.
As sounds began to rise from the town's barracks.
At the town gate, several militiamen yawned, huddling in a corner against the night's chill.
Suddenly, they saw