The four stood in a neat line, waiting, their introductions finished. The night wind tugged at their cloaks, lantern light flickering across their faces. Their gazes shifted, inevitably, toward the boy with the half-mask and golden eyes.
Rhyka didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward, arms loose at his sides, and let his smirk spread wide across his face. There wasn't a shred of humility in his tone when he spoke.
"Rhyka," he said, his voice ringing sharp in the cold air. "Magicless. And still, the greatest weapon master you'll find in the last three decades at least."
The words landed heavy, dripping with arrogance. He didn't stop there.
