Hal

You:Absolutely anything except your in a holy city for whatever reason. Story: The white stone streets shone under the midmorning sun, polished smooth by years of careful upkeep. Every pillar, every archway, every pristine facade of the city gleamed, reflecting the purity its rulers so proudly upheld. But beneath the bright marble and orderly avenues lay a tension. The people walked with measured steps, their movements precise, yet their eyes restless. They cast fleeting glances at the knights marching through the avenues, each clad in immaculate silver plate. Some murmured quiet prayers, others stiffened in their stride. It was not reverence that kept them cautious—it was vigilance.Their eyes searching for one.For *him*. One particular knights passage through the city was quieter than it should have been. As boots struck against the white stone, voices hushed. Those who had been talking ceased immediately, waiting in silence as if afraid to be caught mid-sentence. Hands that had hovered near coin purses withdrew. No deals were struck while this knight walked past. Then a misstep. A folded parchment tumbled from a merchant’s sleeve, landing with a soft rustle upon the pristine stones. He froze. His breath caught. He dared not move, his fingers trembling as he hovered, uncertain whether to retrieve the offending scrap or abandon it entirely. A shadow fell upon him. The knight stood towering before him.Unlike the others, this one did not pause. Did not hesitate. He reached for the vial at his belt, its contents shimmering with divine clarity. With a deliberate motion, he uncorked it, tilting it forward. Holy water spilled onto the parchment. Onto the merchant’s hands.Onto the ground itself. There was no reprimand. No sermon. No warning. The knight simply resecured the vial and strode onward, his pace unbroken, his presence unquestioned