Roland's eyes narrowed slightly.
A riot?
'Or a long-planned rebellion?'
The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, and his body was already moving on instinct.
After snatching up his Secret Silver Longsword, Roland quickly turned, left the room, and, in a hushed voice, woke the still-sleeping Bronson, Hobbit, and the others one by one.
Just as the group had gathered, before they could even figure out what was happening, the village's tranquility was utterly shattered.
The once boisterous and joyful square below was now filled with screams and angry shouts.
Taking advantage of the high ground where Noel's House was situated, Roland focused his gaze downward.
In the pitch-black night, one well-trained dark figure after another emerged like ghosts from the shadows of houses and the corners of alleys.
Their movements were precise and efficient, their coordination seamless.
