Ryan's fingers examined the hot, black bracelet under the cover of the wooden overhang.
Ryan listened to the rain drumming above his head. Water spilled from the edges in heavy streams, splashing into the mud below.
Most of the crowd had moved away from the stands.
Their attention was either fixed on the dead Blackwood boy and the grieving nobleman kneeling beside him, or fixed onto the half broken statue.
No one paid Ryan any mind.
He was alone.
The bracelet rested in his palm, its metal still warm and bright.
Ryan turned it slowly, watching the light glimmer along the thin engravings.
Then, something caught his eye.
An armoured figure emerged from the rain and walked past the stands without slowing. Mud clung to the plates of their armour and a mace still hung loosely from their hand.
It was the mystery knight.
They passed only a few steps away from Ryan.
Close enough that Ryan could hear the dull scrape of their boots against wet stone.
