Mischief sparkling in Adam's eyes, he supported his elbow on his crossed leg and cupped his cheek, while Yann's grip tightened around his dagger and a bizarre sword. It was the first time he ever saw that style of round guard from which extended an arm-sized blade, so thin that he felt he could shatter it between his fingers without effort.
"You're perceptive, Yann. I'm indeed here to discuss the terms of your recruitment. You might not know this, but many rogue mages have already begun to work for various sects—most lending their alchemical expertise. Others..." He let his voice linger, his lips curling like a knife. "Let's say influential individuals sometimes disappear mysteriously. And no one ever saw a cultivator within miles of the corpse."
