Chapter 37 - A Day Off

  By midday, Ravenhold looked unchanged.

  The day moved anyway. The sun drifted slowly.

  The chatter that had once filled the inn had faded. In its place remained the sound of cloth being wrung dry, footsteps on wooden floors, and doors opening and closing without urgency in the main hall.

  Halvor Inn had settled into calm again.

  Thomas sat near the front table, counting something on a crumpled sheet of paper. His expression was serious, like someone doing extra work on a day meant for rest.

  Behind the counter, Myra wiped a glass with a clean cloth. Her movements were steady, almost automatic.

  “Our grain supplies are starting to run low,” Myra said without turning around.

  Thomas lifted the paper slightly.

  “Yeah, Mom. I’ll bring some back after work tomorrow.”

  “Carrots and potatoes too.”

  Thomas nodded, lowering the paper while his pen continued across it.

  Outside, the muted sounds of the city drifted in. Ravenhold was never truly quiet. It merely changed its rhythm.

  A small bell chimed as the door opened. A brief gust of wind slipped inside, carrying a sweet scent mixed with something freshly baked from the street.

  A girl stepped in. Her brown hair was neatly kept, her clothes simple but clean. She carried a small wrapped bundle in her hands.

  “Good afternoon,” Myra said, still facing the glass.

  “Afternoon, Aunt Myra.”

  Thomas straightened.

  “Oh. Selene.”

  Selene glanced at the paper on the table.

  “What’re you working on?”

  Thomas let out a breath. “Extra work from your dad.”

  Selene gave a small chuckle.

  Myra walked over and pulled her into a brief hug.

  “Sit down first. I’ll get you something to drink.”

  Selene sat and placed the bundle on the table.

  “What’s that?” Thomas asked.

  “A little something from my mom,” Selene replied casually.

  Myra returned with a glass and a small plate of fried cashews.

  “Your mother always remembers the little things,” she said. “You’ve been well?”

  Selene nodded. “I have, Aunt.”

  Thomas leaned back in his chair.

  “No Guild duty today?”

  “Shift swap.”

  Thomas nodded. “I’ve been hearing rumors. Beasts have been acting strange lately.”

  Selene glanced at him.

  “Yeah. A lot of reports don’t match the usual patterns.”

  She looked down at her cup.

  “There’s something stranger too… but it’s not clear yet.”

  Thomas raised an eyebrow.

  “I used to want to be an adventurer,” he said. “Back when I’d just learned to make a tiny fireball.”

  “And then?” Selene asked.

  “I quit,” Thomas replied. “After hearing my childhood friend’s father died on a mission.”

  Selene fell silent.

  “Living a normal life like this feels safer,” Thomas added quietly.

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  Myra spoke while placing the bundle into a cabinet.

  “Everyone walks their own path.”

  She glanced at Selene.

  “Go on, have some.”

  “Thanks, Aunt.”

  A few seconds passed. Only the sound of chewing and the faint crackle of a dying fire remained.

  “So where is your childhood friend now?” Selene asked.

  “Someone adopted him,” Thomas said. “I heard he joined the Royal Forces.”

  “Talented?” Selene asked.

  Thomas smirked.

  “Either talent...or strong connections.”

  Myra stepped into the kitchen.

  Thomas yawned.

  “How long have you been working as Guild staff now?”

  “Over a year,” Selene said. “I wanted to be one too. Dad didn’t allow it.”

  Thomas laughed softly.

  “Small world.”

  Outside, footsteps passed in front of the inn, then faded away.

  The fire crackled once more, then shrank.

  The day went on.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  “Come in,” Teodor said.

  Leon opened the door and stepped inside, carrying a roll of clean cloth and a small bottle. Air from the corridor slipped in with him, bringing a faint medicinal smell.

  Teodor sat on the edge of the bed. His leg was stretched out in front of him. The old bandage looked dull in several places.

  Leon closed the door, then took a seat on the chair beside the bed.

  “There’s news from the western mine,” he said.

  Teodor turned his head slightly.

  “What is it?”

  Leon didn’t answer right away. He crouched down and began loosening the bandages carefully. The cloth came off slowly, layer by layer.

  The wound on Teodor’s leg had dried, but traces of poison still left dark discoloration around the flesh.

  “New victims,” Leon finally said. “Two people. Dead on the spot.”

  He poured liquid from the bottle onto the cloth and cleaned the wound.

  Teodor swallowed. He didn’t say anything.

  Several seconds passed. Only the sound of breathing and cloth brushing against skin remained.

  Leon tied the final knot, then stood.

  “The condition was bad,” he continued. “One of them was barely intact.”

  Teodor’s gaze dropped to his leg, now freshly rebandaged.

  “The Guild moving?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” Leon replied shortly.

  He stepped back half a pace, assessing his work.

  “Done.”

  Teodor nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  Leon rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I’m heading out for a bit. Call me if anything comes up.”

  He opened the door. Before stepping out, he paused.

  “We weren’t wrong to pull back.”

  Teodor lifted his gaze.

  “I know.”

  The door closed.

  The room fell silent again. Teodor drew a slow breath, then leaned his back against the wall.

  The inn door opened again. The small bell above it chimed briefly.

  Selene lifted her gaze from her cup.

  A young man stepped inside, carrying a bucket filled with water and a bundle of clean clothes tucked under one arm. His hair was still slightly damp, the hem of his shirt darkened with moisture. He paused near the door, shifting the bucket so it wouldn’t drip onto the floor, then walked in without hurry.

  Thomas turned his head.

  “Oh. Zio.”

  Zio gave a short nod.

  Selene followed his steps with her eyes.

  “Selene,” Thomas said, gesturing toward her, “Uncle Albert’s daughter. The place where we work.”

  Then he looked back at the young man.

  “This is Zio. He’s staying at the inn too.”

  Zio glanced over briefly. A small nod.

  Selene returned it.

  Zio stopped near the table. From the kitchen, Myra glanced his way.

  “Sit down first,” Myra said. “Don’t just stand there.”

  Zio complied. He pulled out a chair and sat upright, both hands resting on his thighs. He placed the bucket beneath the chair.

  Selene took a cashew from the plate and bit into it slowly. The air around them felt clean, carrying only the scent of soap and damp fabric.

  Thomas flicked a glance toward Selene, then turned back to Zio.

  “How was the river?” he asked.

  “Clear,” Zio replied briefly.

  He stared straight ahead. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t lean back.

  Selene took a sip of her drink. A thin wisp of steam rose from the surface.

  “You washed at the river?” she asked, turning toward Zio.

  “Yeah,” Zio answered quietly.

  “You didn’t mess with him, did you?” Selene said, looking at Thomas.

  “I’m not that cruel,” Thomas chuckled softly.

  “Ask Zio yourself.”

  Selene glanced at Zio, noticing the muscle and veins along his arms.

  Zio shifted slightly in his seat, as if adjusting against the chair back. The movement was small, almost silent. He remained quiet.

  Outside, the sound of a cart’s wheels passed by, then faded. The fire in the hearth crackled softly.

  Myra stepped out carrying a cup of hot tea. She glanced at the bucket beneath the chair, then set the cup down in front of Zio.

  There was no further conversation. Myra returned to the kitchen.

  Orange light clung to the edge of the inn’s windows, reflecting across the wooden floor as the room grew emptier. Sounds from the street softened, slipping into the background.

  Zio stood and picked up the bucket beneath his chair.

  “I’ll head up to my room.”

  Thomas gave a short nod.

  Zio walked toward the stairs, moving slowly and deliberately. The wooden boards creaked faintly beneath his feet.

  Selene stood as well and straightened her chair. Now and then, her gaze drifted toward the stairs. She pushed the small plate in front of her back toward the center of the table.

  “I’m heading back,” she said.

  Thomas lifted a hand briefly.

  “Take care.”

  “Send my regards to your mother,” Myra said.

  “I will, Aunt,” Selene replied.

  The door opened. Evening air slipped inside for a moment, carrying the scent of streets growing cold. Selene stepped out. The small bell chimed, then fell silent.

  People’s shadows stretched long across the stone road. Selene merged into the flow of those heading home, without stopping, without looking back.

  Inside, the inn grew quiet again. Myra extinguished one of the lamps. The hearth fire shrank, leaving only embers.

  Outside, Ravenhold continued its slow movement toward night.

  No one was waiting.

  No one was being called.

  The day ended, just like any other.