Tenedos and Damascus had cleared themselves out of the commotion with the kind of skill and precision expected of assassins, but also with the fear of men who had already experienced the wrath of the Brotherhood. As it had been in the great Siege of Radasanth, the pair found themselves diving swiftly between houses and alleyways. There may not have been the advancing army, explosions, the flaming debris raining down from the sky or the smell of death hanging in the air from shouldering corpses, but the urgency to escape Tylmerande was much greater. This time, there wouldn’t be an army to hide behind, nor would there be anyone else to take the flack in their stead. Storm Veritas was unscathed, and now with Shinsou out of the picture the electromancer was sure to be foaming at the mouth. He would be doing all he could to identify the shooter, meaning it was too dangerous to risk hanging around.

Tenedos followed the lead of his counterpart as Damascus leapt high in the alley, kicking off a wall and landing gracefully on a low shale rooftop. The crowd from the town itself started to flood the passages, creating human congestion for any pursuing guards to get stuck in. Without hesitation, they sprinted, the wind ripping across their faces. With the traffic on the ground thickening, Tenedos knew he had to go up to get out, and looking around for a few good outlets presented him with a fourth story window of what looked like a disused shop just big enough for the both of them, across a six foot gap. Motioning to Damascus to follow, Tenedos burst into a full sprint and kicked off from the ledge, crashing through the grimy window pane in a crumpled heap.

“Shit,” The assassin exclaimed as two shards of jagged glass impaled themselves within his right palm, drawing sudden streams of crimson. As Damascus tumbled into the shadows behind him, Tenedos ducked between two tall stone columns. Tearing off a piece of his shirt, the man wrapped the bandage about the injured hand and tied it taut.

“You ok?” Damascus asked gruffly.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” His companion snapped back, walking over to the other side of the empty floor and surveying the network of back alleys at his disposal. To redirect himself towards the exit of town that was the least guarded, he would have to head north from here, and then take a sharp east. The route never got touched by the midday sun and, more importantly, seemed cut off from the center.

“What about the boss?” Damascus piped up as he shed his jacket, throwing it into the corner of the abandoned room, “He was supposed to be coming with us!”

“Wolf food, most likely. We’re dead too if we stay here, so get going.” A frown crept across Tenedos’s face. The plan had been successful, but he knew the man who had commissioned the act was alive and well, and Tenedos personally wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He would become a problem. It seemed preposterous that their paymaster was more of a danger to them than the Telgradian and the electromancer, but given what was at stake for their benefactor…

“Well come on then!” Damascus insisted, becoming more animated with time, “Let’s get out of here!”

Tenedos’s heart rate hadn’t recovered yet. He could feel the drumming of it against his chest, still frenetic, whilst his skin felt flushed.

Then, footsteps. Audible footsteps.

The pair backed up, daggers quickly to their sides as a hooded form manifested from the stairwell at the far end. Though thin and wiry, he towered in contrast to the men, and walked confidently to within a couple of feet of them both. A mosaic of blue and white arcane energies signified the end of a portal. Waving his hand, a pair of spectacles appeared instantly on the face of the specter, and a crop of brown hair crept over the figure’s face from within the hood.

“Tell me, Tenedos,” The softly spoken voice echoed through the dilapidated surroundings, "Was your shot as true as you claimed?"