“Are you?” the grandmaster shot back. “I recognize your authority Riel’gesh, but I am an old man, and you are young. You should not be so quick to dismiss a man’s soul. Even a hard man who bathes in blood can love.” The grandmaster’s eyes grew distant in remembrance, as though he spoke from experience, before he finally shook himself and continued. “No, I think Briesh does not care to take on the responsibility of grandmaster when there is someone else to do it. Perhaps when I have grown too old to hold my sword aloft, he will acquiesce and honor me with a worthy death.”

“One can hope,” Rezkin responded, “but you are still of use.” It was a strange wish, to desire one’s life to end in slaughter while others dreamed of dying in their sleep or surrounded by loved ones. It was a dream carried by many a warrior, and it was one Rezkin thought he would experience sooner rather than later. Few warriors lived to old age and even fewer desired it. Rezkin did not care either way except that if he were too old to perform his Skills or adhere to the Rules, then he would be of little use to anyone, especially if he lost his mind and knowledge with it as many of the elderly did. It would be a waste of resources to continue to support his useless life.

Rezkin felt three sets of eyes boring into him. He turned his attention to the three thieves that stood clutching each other beside him. When he met Rom’s eyes, the big man quickly glanced away. The warrior motioned to Broken and Ash and said, “The small-men are yours. They are to master their Skills. They are sadly deficient of training, and I would see them succeed.”

Broken’s mouth dropped, and he exclaimed, “Wait! We’re s’posed to become assassins?”

Rezkin frowned at the young man who seemed rather upset. They should be thankful that Rezkin was making the effort to see to their education since no one else had. The assassins did not possess all of the necessary Skills, and they were unfamiliar with many of the Rules, but they were better than anyone else, except perhaps the strikers.

He replied, “If need be, but that is not my purpose in bringing you here. You must learn the Skills the Hall has to offer. In time, you may be transferred elsewhere to learn other Skills. I do not have the time to teach you myself. This is the only way I have at the moment to ensure you become proper grown men.”

“Wha-what about Cracker?” the small-man whimpered as his lip wobbled.

“Your guild mate does not possess the countenance for this Skill set. He will be taught others more suited to his personality and abilities,” the Raven responded.