The eastern border at dawn was shrouded in a thin mist, a cold breeze sweeping across the wilderness, bringing a biting chill. Wolf, cloaked in a deep gray mantle, rode a sturdy black horse, speaking in hushed tones to the two closest confidants at his side. These two were his most trusted assassins, masters of eliminating targets silently and without a trace.
"Clean and swift—leave no witnesses," Wolf commanded, his tone icy and his gaze razor-sharp. The trio rode their horses until they neared the Strongson eastern border patrol point. Then, abandoning their mounts, they slipped into the undergrowth, moving like leopards disappearing into the grayish dawn fog.
Their first target was a border watchtower. A sentry leaned lazily against the tower wall, seemingly lulled into complacency by the apparent tranquility of the border. Wolf approached like a ghost cloaked in darkness, the dagger in his hand glinting faintly. In a flash, he slit the sentry's throat, blood spraying onto the wall with a faint sound as quiet as a leaf falling. The other two assassins moved in swiftly, dispatching the remaining guards near the tower.
With the initial clearing complete, Wolf led his men toward the forward command post. They slipped silently through the heavily guarded camp, blending seamlessly into the night. Inside the post, several soldiers were speaking in hushed tones, oblivious to the death looming just outside. Wolf burst into the room first, his dagger striking like a viper, slitting throats with deadly precision. The sound of bodies hitting the ground was muffled by the wind outside the walls.
As most of the guards at the post were neutralized, the forward commander emerged from his quarters, holding a rolled-up map, evidently preparing to inspect the camp. The moment he looked up, his eyes locked with Wolf's—a gaze deep, ruthless, and as chilling as an abyss, radiating an oppressive menace. The commander opened his mouth to shout an alarm, but all he felt was a sharp, icy pain in his neck.
Wolf's dagger struck like lightning, deadly and precise, plunging into the commander's throat. Blood gushed forth, leaving a crimson streak across his stunned face. The commander struggled for a few seconds, his body emitting a faint gurgle before collapsing lifelessly.
"Move quickly," Wolf ordered coldly, wiping the blood from his blade with a sleeve. They swiftly staged the scene to appear as though it had been attacked by Eldenia forces, planting weapons and shattered insignias bearing the Eldenia military crest. They even carved a few provocative phrases in Eldenia script on the walls, crafting a scene of enemy provocation.
As the morning light gradually dissolved the mist, Wolf and his men had already vanished into the border's shadows. The post was deathly silent, with broken walls and scattered blood telling the tale of a sudden, brutal assault. Yet the true culprits were long gone, leaving behind a trail of evidence potent enough to spark a war.