"Well, it's like the leader said, some fools came to do stupid things."
Marlo stopped. The two fourth-mantle aura users immediately looked up.
A man was sitting on the edge of a nearby rooftop, one leg hanging lazily over the side. He had a rough face, relaxed eyes, and the kind of smile that made him look more like a bandit than a knight. This was the second in command of Thornefang, Harlik.
Behind him, several figures appeared on the rooftops and alley entrances. They wore sleek black trench coats with deep crimson lining, the silver-thorn insignia stitched proudly on their sleeves: a dragon's fang wrapped in a gleaming spiral of thorn.
Who in Norvaegard did not know what that insignia meant? This was the insignia of the group that has never lost a battle. They might be new, but their fame in Norvaegard was legendary.
Marlo's face immediately stiffened. "Thornefang..."
