Amidst the restless wind, a black stallion cut through the fair, its hooves striking the earth with quiet authority. Upon its back sat a man whose midnight eyes swept over the crowd, sharp and calculating. Those eyes stilled when they caught sight of a red flag perched atop a nearby roof.
With a subtle nudge to the mare, he redirected her path.
Moments later, Leonard dismounted, his boots meeting the wooden porch with a soft thud. A guard stood at the entrance, posture stiff, gaze fixed.
"Password," the man demanded.
Leonard's expression remained unchanged—bored, almost disinterested—as he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small knife.
The guard reacted instantly, lunging forward—
—but Leonard was already gone.
The man froze, eyes widening as he spun around in confusion.
Too late.
