They didn't need to check for tracks. They already knew he was running through the forest at breakneck speed.
Saladiriel narrowed his eyes. They were roughly twenty-five in number, plus a dozen Griffin riders.
All tasked with assassinating one boy.
Honestly, he wasn't going to lie — he thought it was overkill to send this many people in the third class advancement after a single boy the same age as the princess.
Each of them were assassins raised in the Moon Glades. They had battle experience and a wealth of bodies — so many, they could collectively fill a river with just the blood on their hands.
Yet they had chased this boy for miles. Not only had they failed to catch him, but he had shot down two of them. They were dead now.
The riders were lightly injured from the fall from the sky.
Saladiriel narrowed his eyes at the archery the boy used.
"Is he a spy of the Silver Glades?"
