The first guard died without ever knowing he was in danger.
He stood at his post not too far from the entrance, weight resting lazily on one leg, his sword sheathed at his side, attention dulled by the monotony of endless nights spent standing watch when nothing ever happened there. His gaze drifted, unfocused as sleep and fatigue tried to drag him under.
A figure peeled itself from the wall behind him. Then a hand clamped roughly over his mouth, preventing him from making a single sound. A blade slid cleanly between his ribs, finding the space beneath bone with practiced ease. The guard's eyes widened, shock flaring briefly before dying out completely. The sound he tried to make never left his throat.
