Lysander was taken aback by the small girl's quick reaction to the hooded man; in a swift and bloody move, she had slain him mercilessly. There was certainly more to her than he had thought. 
He knelt beside the body and pulled the hood up. The man's face was literally blank, featureless and smooth. As he had feared, this was one of the Faceless, a society of assassins that were known to cater to the Legion. It was a miracle they had survived the four attacks today. But it was now clear that the Legion knew of Lysander's place of hiding. He could not stay, and yet he could not leave, for the assassins were no doubt watching all exits. However, it was unlikely they would dare attack a fighter's guild in force. He turned to the girl, who's previously pale and pure frame was flecked with blood. 
"Please, hide me!" he deplored, breaking the sense of superiority and pride he had often felt as a soldier. That part of him was gone. "I'll do whatever it takes."