The Bracelets.
The carriage came to a gentle stop just short of the fancy silver gates of the palace grounds. The gentle creak of the door swinging open was heard like a sigh against the high-stone walls that enclosed the mansion. A soft breeze caressed, bringing with it the smell of clipped hedges, freshly polished marble, and fragrant violet roses that edged the entrance walkway.
Leon went out first, his boots thudding onto the well-oiled white stone with disciplined ease. The instant he stepped out, the slight tension of anticipation in the air gave way—as if the world outside the capital hesitated, just for a moment, to recognize him. His greatcoat billowed fractionally with the breeze, his face impassive, but his amber eyes sparkled with assessment.
The others went out, one by one.
