The assassins of Ravenholdt Manor had gathered in a small forest about four or five kilometers southeast of Tarren Mill.
More precisely, their temporary camp stood in a shallow river valley within the forest.
The narrow river connecting Southshore and Tarren Mill ran straight through this little forest, filling it with life.
The spot also lay on the direct route to Tarren Mill for Syndicate assassins arriving from the Arathi Highlands. Naturally, they would not obediently follow the main road, where they could easily run into local farmers or soldiers, not to mention travel farther.
By the time Rhode entered the forest with Lilia and Hakkar, it was already afternoon.
Lazy sunlight filtered through gaps in the trees, lending the surroundings a touch of natural tranquility.
All three now wore close-fitting assassin outfits and blue face coverings. Oh, except Hakkar the Troll, whose mask was white. Apparently, he liked to keep things clean and did not mind how easily white showed dirt.
After they walked for a while, the shallows beyond the trees came into view, along with the faint outline of the camp.
Whoosh!
Rhode was walking at the front when an arrow suddenly whistled through the air.
Rather than aiming for his body, however, it struck the ground ahead of him.
Rhode glanced at the arrowhead buried in the ground.
The shot looked powerful, its fletching still quivering. It certainly had not fallen short after losing momentum.
Hmm, and it wasn't even that far. Surely a Ravenholdt assassin couldn't be that bad at archery?
Then that arrow had to be a warning.
With that thought, Rhode immediately pulled out the copper nameplate identifying him and raised it, waving toward the camp.
Lilia and Hakkar did the same.
Lilia even jumped as she waved, afraid the people in the