At Taelan's retort, a chilling glint flashed in Isillien's eyes. He struck the ground hard with the staff in his hand.
"Enough! Taelan Fordring, you are the Highlord of the Scarlet Crusade. You bear the hopes and expectations of this land. How can you so casually abandon your duty? Come back with me! And this messenger-hmph, a fake. Seize him and put him on trial!"
The four tall Scarlet officers behind Isillien surrounded me, weapons in hand. I flexed my fingers, and two daggers danced in my palms like fish in water.
They were spoils from my adventures in the Burning Steppes, divine weapons I'd gotten from the Blackrock Orcs who had submitted to the Black Dragon's rule. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but these daggers were genuine magic weapons. Although I usually used them to knock out my opponents, that didn't mean they hadn't tasted blood.
To be honest, I wasn't afraid of these four. If I wanted to leave, no one could stop me. But I couldn't leave Taelan behind, not when he was just one step away from meeting his father. I couldn't.
Everything I'd worked for had been for this moment. Even though I'd become a rich man, at least for now, I was still a Rogue.
The best gift people who underestimated Rogues could receive was...
"Pfft."
The first Scarlet officer to raise his weapon tried to charge at me. The consequence of his reckless move was a wound in his neck, one that had completely severed his windpipe. I easily sprang from the shadows to his back, just as I'd done countless times on the battlefield. With one light slash, a life came to an end.
Yes, death.
The best gift those who underestimated Rogues received was death.
"Thud."
The man