The dawning realization bloomed behind her eyes like a slow, dreadful sunrise.
Below, the medics had surrounded the Stranger, begging him to go with them to the Flame Menders. He must have taken a good amount of damage at least, that's what they thought.
But he stood like a statue carved from shadow, their pleas bouncing off him uselessly. One even reached for his arm; he turned, just slightly, and the man froze, the words dying on his tongue.
He didn't say no. He just… walked away.
And oh, how the nobles went mad for him.
They clawed at their attendants, sent servants racing through the halls and corridors, shouting for names, for records, for rumors. Coins changed hands faster than breath, bribes thrown like confetti. Everyone wanted a piece of the mystery, that unclaimed ghost in black armor.
But he was like smoke.
