A curious and most vexing phenomenon hath occurred! Whilst traversing the City with Manager Vergilius for our duties, I espied a mural upon a wall. It depicted a grand, noble knight upon a steed, lance held high. The visage... it was strangely familiar. A warmth bloomed in my chest, followed swiftly by a chill, as if I had forgotten a name upon the very tip of my tongue! Rocinante felt heavy upon my feet. I know not the artist, nor the knight's true story, but it felt like a whisper from a dream I can no longer recall. Is it... a portrait of justice long past, or a specter from a tale untold? The Manager said only to 'stop gawking and get on the bus.' I shall ponder this mystery!