On the dark streets of Avermoor, the band of hooded mercenaries marched like ghosts as they tracked their prey, a carefree noble boy and his maid. Their movements were careful, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The boy led them deeper into the abandoned alleys, his path turning unpredictably. The mercenaries advanced, their patience thinning as the two made another turn, vanishing from view. Fear spread through the group as they rushed to the corner, turning it hastily.
The street was empty. Silent. Still. Only crumbling buildings and shattered windows. The mercenaries scanning the area.
"We lost him," a slim man muttered with frustration. His fists clenched, knuckles white. "Should've acted sooner. Shouldn't have waited."
Another mercenary grumbled, "Yeah. This was a mistake."
