A Quiet Day

A Quiet Day

The western gate of Ravenhold stood wide open. The sound of galloping hooves and rolling wheels echoed off the stone walls as the Guild’s emergency response unit rode out in disciplined silence. No shouting. No unnecessary noise.

Medical staff rode near the rear of the formation, litters secured firmly in place while cloth bundles, waterskins, and sealed crates received one final inspection. At the front, nine mounted riders kept a steady pace, swords, spears, and shields ready at hand.

The western road stretched pale beneath the afternoon light. No caravans returned to the city. No traveling merchants lingered on the road before nightfall. Dense forest lined both sides of the track. A low wind pushed dust across the dirt road while the leaves overhead barely stirred. One rider adjusted his grip on the leather reins, his gaze sweeping along the tree line. Farther ahead, a courier cart stood abandoned beside the road, tilted at an angle with one wheel sunk into damp earth.

The horses slowed, ears twitching toward the cart, and the formation closed ranks. One man leaned from his saddle, studying the cargo bed, the wheels, and the trampled ground surrounding it.

“Empty,” he said quietly.

Another rider guided his horse closer and drew a slow breath beside the weathered frame.

“Smells of grain... and a faint trace of medicine. Just a courier cart.”

The leader gave a brief nod.

“Mark the location.”

A rider stepped forward and drove a small wooden stake into the roadside before rejoining the column. Without another word, they turned their horses and continued along the narrowing road.

The trees closed in as they pushed farther west, their shadows stretching across the dirt track. The wind faded. No birds called from the canopy. No insects stirred in the undergrowth. Only the measured rhythm of horseshoes and iron-rimmed wheels carried through the stillness.

The scent of iron reached them first.

Riders near the center of the column tightened their grip on their weapons, leather creaking beneath their fingers, until the broken fence surrounding the medical post finally emerged between the trees.

***

By the time Zio stepped back onto the main road, the afternoon sun had drifted farther west. Forest soil gave way to the packed dirt beneath his boots as he returned to where the cart still stood crooked beside the road. He gripped the wooden handles and nudged the stuck wheel free with his foot until the timber creaked and settled level again. Wiping his damp palms against his trousers, he drew a quiet breath and pulled the cart forward once more. His shadow and the cart stretched long across the dry road.

Before long, the western gate of Ravenhold came into view. Several guards stood beneath the stone archway, their spears resting against the wall. One stepped forward at the sound of the cart's wheels.

“Where have you come from?” he asked.

“Delivery,” Zio replied, his voice even.

The guard walked to the side of the cart, looked over its contents, then gave a small nod of recognition.

“You're the one who delivered supplies to the medical post earlier, aren't you?”

Zio nodded.

“Took the wrong road coming back.”

The guard's eyes dropped to the dark patches soaking Zio's trousers.

“Why are you wet?”

“Stepped into the river.”

Another guard let out a quiet huff.

“Spring's been strangely warm lately.” He tipped his head toward the gate. “Go on through.”

Zio pulled the cart beneath the archway without slowing. One of the guards watched him for another moment before turning back to his post. Before long, the steady rattle of the cart's wheels blended into the noise of the city streets.

***

At the medical post, the main gate lay in splintered ruins, the wooden fence torn apart and scattered across the yard. A heavy metallic smell hung in the air, catching at the back of the throat. Chaotic footprints crossed the packed earth, weaving between dark stains that had already begun to dry. The rescue unit dismounted at once, weapons drawn, leaving the supply wagons outside the broken entrance. Quiet orders passed from one member to another as they spread through the yard, checking corners, windows, and shattered buildings for any sign of movement.

A dull glint caught the afternoon sun near the steps of the main hall where dark liquid had pooled without being fully absorbed into the ground. Then someone pointed upward.

A figure stood on the second-floor balcony.

Both hands waved weakly above the railing. A hoarse cry drifted down, barely carrying across the yard.

Two members rushed inside, stepping over broken doors, overturned tables, and splintered shelves. Dark red stains streaked the floors and walls. Torn strips of cloth lay tangled among shattered wood and twisted debris. On the balcony, they found a staff member slumped against the wall, one hand still wrapped around the scorched casing of a signal flare. Her shoulders trembled without stopping. Her eyes stared ahead without settling on anything.

“Easy now. We're getting you down,” one of them said.

They guided her downstairs, where the medical team wrapped blankets around her shoulders and settled her into one of the supply wagons.

Five others followed the trail beyond the broken fence. Snapped branches and crushed undergrowth led deeper into the forest. Dark blood marked the ground between the trees. With every step, the metallic smell grew stronger.

The clearing came into view.

Seven large reptilian creatures lay scattered across the ground, each body split apart by clean, heavy cuts. One man knelt beside the nearest corpse, running a gloved hand along the exposed bone. Nearby, the shattered hilt of a human sword lay half-buried in the grass. He picked it up and turned it over once.

“This wasn't done by monsters,” he said quietly. “This was a blade.”

The leader crouched beside another carcass, his fingers tracing the smooth edge of the wound before he rose.

“Harvest the cores,” he said.

He looked toward the trees beyond the clearing.

“Then we head back.”

***

Back inside the city, afternoon faded toward dusk as Zio pulled the cart into the warehouse yard. Workers were still moving between the shelves, stacking crates and finishing the last deliveries of the day. Zio lifted the final wooden crate onto its shelf, squared it into place, then stepped back. Across the room, Thomas closed the delivery ledger and slid it into a drawer. His eyes lingered on Zio's damp clothes.

“How come you're all wet?” Thomas asked, leaning against the counter.

“Stopped by the river,” Zio replied.

Thomas let out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair enough. You're from the north after all. Spring in Ravenhold probably feels like summer to you.”

A faint smile crossed Zio's face.

Together they pulled the warehouse doors shut. The iron bar dropped into place with a heavy thud. They stepped onto the cobblestone street as the last orange light settled across the rooftops. Long shadows stretched over the stones. Merchants folded awnings and packed away their goods. Parents called their children home while the smell of grilled meat drifted from nearby food stalls. A cool evening breeze slipped through the street. Zio drew a slow breath as he walked beside Thomas toward the residential district.

The small bell above the door chimed as they entered Halvor Inn. Warm air met them at once, carrying the familiar scents of brewed tea and woodsmoke.

“There you are. Back sooner than I expected,” Myra called from behind the counter, waving them toward their usual table. “Go sit down.”

Zio and Thomas took their seats. A moment later, Myra returned with two steaming cups and set them on the table.

“Thank you, Auntie,” Zio said softly.

Myra smiled and returned to the counter. Zio lifted his cup, blew gently across the surface, and took a slow sip.

Beyond the inn's windows, the sounds of the street faded one by one as evening settled over Ravenhold.