As Naimishi watched him direct his focus to the shaven-headed man, blatantly ignoring her, she confronted him head-on. "You are lying." She declared.
"Lying about how I know your location?" Came a sluggish question from Arazhan.
"Lying about your identity," Naimishi corrected him firmly. "Do you think I cannot distinguish between the hands of a warrior and those of a mere farmer?" The way he skillfully hurled the knife with astonishing accuracy, finding its mark on the shaven-headed man's wrist and stomach from a significant distance, showcased a skill far beyond that of an ordinary peasant. He was keenly aware of the exact point to strike that would inflict unbearable pain. The man writhing in pain, lying on the ground, was a sample.
