Silence filled the air.
"Wait, what?" Thorn frowned. "You're a smuggler. Why would you want to know about the relationship between the King and the Pope?"
The smugglers blinked, murmurs of agreement filling the air. Even the scarred man tilted his head, thinking about it. "Well—"
There was a blue, and a throwing knife whistled through the air, embedding itself in the scarred leader's throat with a wet thunk.
His eyes went wide in shock, unable to believe what just happened as blood bubbled at his lips. He tried to speak but only gurgled, stumbling backward before crumpling to the ground, the knife's hilt still jutted from his neck.
Gasps erupted from the smugglers, some of them stepping back, weapons half-raised, eyes darting wildly as they tried to find where the throwing knife had come from.
