"W–What's the meaning of this?" the instructor croaked, blood bubbling from his lips with every word.
Teon twisted the blade in his gut—once, twice—each rotation widening the grin on his face.
"Your brother and that Mad Prince have been a real thorn in our side. So, we figured it was time to send him a gift…" He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "Your head."
"Your… work?" The instructor's face twisted in confusion and agony.
"The Guild." Teon paused, the grin slipping slightly as a frown crept in. "Don't tell me… you really don't know what your brother's been involved in?"
The word Guild slammed into Ares like a hammer.
"Guild? The Guild of Assassins?!" The realisation hit hard. Rage, long buried, erupted from deep within, molten and violent. His grip on the weapon tightened, knuckles white as he stared down a man tied to those who had butchered his father.
