Chapter 41 - A Delivery

  The morning wind slipped in through the open window, stirring the thin curtain with a soft sound.

  Birdsong followed one another outside, light and steady, as if marking the arrival of a new season.

  Zio had already been awake in his room.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his back leaning slightly forward. A straight sword rested in his hands. The hilt was cold, its surface familiar in his grip.

  Zio looked at it for a moment.

  Then he stood, opened the wardrobe, and placed the sword back inside. The wooden door closed with a quiet sound, nearly swallowed by the morning noises outside.

  Zio left his room and went down the stairs to the inn’s main hall.

  Morning light streamed in through the front windows, casting slanted lines across the floor. From behind the counter came the sound of kitchen tools touching one another. The scent of warm soup and toasted bread filled the room.

  Myra was already in her place. Thomas sat at the table, still half-asleep, his hand reaching for a piece of bread.

  Zio took the same seat as always.

  On the table, a bowl of mushroom soup steamed softly. Whole-grain bread rested on a wooden plate.

  Myra poured soup into Zio’s bowl.

  “Oh, by the way,” she said casually. “Father sent a letter.”

  Thomas looked over, then nodded while chewing.

  “He might come back for a while next week,” Myra added lightly.

  Zio ate without commenting. His spoon moved slowly, keeping pace with the quiet morning.

  Thomas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Feels like our grain stock’s starting to run low,” he said. “The farmers just began planting again.”

  Myra gave a small nod.

  “Last winter dragged on.”

  “Yeah,” Thomas continued. “Spring’s only just started. Harvest’s still far off.”

  Zio broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup.

  “Maybe that’s why Father can come home,” Thomas said with a small laugh.

  They finished their breakfast without any rush.

  Thomas stood and slung his bag over his shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Zio nodded.

  They stepped out of the inn. A small bell chimed softly.

  The morning air felt warmer than it had in the past few days. A cool breeze moved gently along the stone-paved streets, carrying the scent of sweets and toasted bread from newly opened roadside stalls.

  Young leaves showed on the trees planted along the roadside, pale green set among stone and wood.

  The city was not fully awake yet, but the sound of footsteps and window shutters slowly opening began to spread.

  Zio and Thomas walked, blending into the flow of a new day beginning.

  “Why are your sleeves still so long?” Thomas asked.

  “Haven’t washed the others yet,” Zio replied briefly.

  “I thought you’d adapt to the new season right away,” Thomas chuckled.

  Zio only nodded, but his expression was no longer completely flat.

  From inside the warehouse came the sound of several people talking. Their voices were low and brief, occasionally broken by the scrape of shifting wood and the pull of tightened rope.

  The conversation stopped when Zio and Thomas reached the open doorway.

  Inside, four men stood facing Albert. All of them turned toward the two of them. The air in the warehouse went still for a moment, as if waiting.

  Not long after, the four men walked out. Their steps were quick and measured. One of them briefly glanced at Zio, his gaze flat and unreadable. Then turned away and followed the others.

  The sound of their footsteps slowly faded from the warehouse.

  “Morning, Uncle,” Thomas greeted.

  “Morning,” Albert replied shortly.

  Albert glanced at Zio for a brief moment, then turned and walked into his office.

  “All of today’s order records are on the table.”

  “Alright,” Thomas said.

  Thomas sat down on the cashier’s stool and opened the ledger. Zio immediately moved deeper into the warehouse, checking the crates. Empty crates were separated from those still filled. Wood was shifted. Ropes were retied. Sacks of grain were touched, lifted, and stacked again into neat rows.

  A thin layer of dust drifted in the air, caught by sunlight filtering through the gaps between the wall planks.

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  The warehouse came alive again with its usual sounds. Soft, steady, and repetitive.

  Footsteps sounded from outside as the sun climbed a little higher.

  A courier stopped in front of the warehouse.

  “Albert’s Logistics Shop?”

  “Yes,” Thomas answered.

  He took the letter, read it quickly, then went into Albert’s office. The courier resumed walking, continuing on his route.

  Not long after, Albert came out with the letter in his hand. He stopped in front of the warehouse and looked down the road.

  “The other laborers haven’t arrived yet?” he asked.

  Thomas lowered his head slightly.

  “Not yet.”

  Albert let out a quiet breath.

  “That’s inconvenient.”

  He turned to Zio.

  “Zio, can you handle this delivery?”

  Zio nodded.

  “I can.”

  The decision was made without further discussion.

  Twenty sacks of grain were loaded onto a large cart. The wood creaked as the weight settled.

  “After you pass through the southern gate, just keep going straight along the main road,” Albert said.

  “If we wait for the other laborers, it might not arrive until tomorrow.”

  “If Zio’s handling it, it won’t take long,” Thomas added lightly.

  “You know where the Solcarys Academy is?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes. I remember it a little from the map,” Zio replied.

  “Alright. I’ll trust you,” Thomas said.

  Zio started moving, pulling the large cart by himself. The wooden wheels creaked as they rolled away from the warehouse.

  The streets of Ravenhold were already busy. Merchants opened their stalls, the sounds of bargaining rising in places. Other carts rolled past, mixed with footsteps and morning calls. The smell of warm bread, road dust, and damp wood blended in the air.

  Zio moved with the city’s flow, pulling his cart with steady steps.

  The southern gate of Ravenhold finally came into view.

  The inspection was brief. The cargo was glanced at. No further questions were asked.

  Zio pulled his cart through the gate.

  The road to the south opened before him.

  The road to Solcarys stretched southward.

  Stone paving lay neatly arranged, its color faded by age and weather. Marks from wheels and boots were etched faintly into its surface.

  The sound of the city thinned behind him, replaced by the steady rhythm of cart wheels striking stone and measured footsteps.

  Zio pulled the cart a little harder. His pace quickened.

  A wide stone bridge arched over the river, its surface worn and slick from constant traffic.

  Zio crossed it without slowing. Below, the water flowed calmly, broad and heavy, carrying sediment and reflections of the sky.

  Zio glanced eastward.

  A small river harbor extended along the water’s edge.

  Fishing boats were moored close together, their hulls darkened by water. Nets hung from wooden frames, drying under the sun.

  Several people moved between crates and barrels, their steps unhurried, as if following the river’s own flow.

  Zio kept walking, passing several groups of carts and mounted travelers along the way.

  The stone road continued, cutting through open grassland.

  Grass grew low on both sides of the road, held back by stone borders and shallow ditches. Trees appeared at wide intervals, enough to cast shade, not enough to block the view.

  The road began to rise slightly.

  The incline could be felt in his legs and shoulders, yet the surface remained orderly, the stonework maintained by retaining walls along the sides.

  Zio leaned forward into the pull of the cart. His steps stayed steady, unchanged.

  The air felt cleaner here, carrying the scent of damp soil from distant fields and young leaves stirred by the wind.

  Fenced farmlands spread along both sides of the road. Rows of newly planted crops lay neatly behind low barriers. Stone-lined irrigation channels followed the shape of the land.

  Farther out, well-kept orchards stretched across the landscape, their branches filled with fresh buds.

  The face of Solcarys emerged gradually as the road began to level.

  The walls were thick and pale, rising beneath the sky, reinforced by massive supports set at regular intervals.

  The northern gate of Solcarys came into view. Traffic moved in an orderly flow. Carts, pedestrians, and mounted riders passed through without haste.

  To the west of the gate stood a structure larger than anything Zio had passed on the road.

  Its curved outer wall rose high, layers of stone stacked tier upon tier. Its shadow fell far across the road, swallowing part of the paving.

  The road bent slightly, passing along the side of the structure, then climbed again toward the gate.

  Zio slowed his pace as he approached the entrance.

  The warehouse felt quiet.

  No laborers moving about. No crates being shifted. Not even the creak of cart wheels.

  Only daylight slipped through the gaps in the wooden walls, carrying the scent of old timber, leaving the space feeling emptier after Zio had left.

  Albert and Thomas sat on opposite sides of the cashier’s table.

  “This is his last day here,” Albert said flatly.

  Thomas turned his head slightly. His expression remained calm.

  “Zio can handle all of this on his own, Uncle,” he replied.

  Albert gave a small nod.

  “Yeah,” he said. “He makes everything here easier.”

  He paused, then continued, his voice lower.

  “But because of that, the trouble falls on us.”

  Thomas did not answer right away. His gaze dropped to the surface of the table.

  Albert let out a short breath.

  “I don’t have the heart to tell him myself,” he said. “I want you to talk to him. You’re closer to him than I am.”

  Thomas was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

  “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell him. I’m sure Zio can accept it.”

  Albert rose from his chair and stood there for a moment.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Sometimes being too capable comes with a burden that isn’t ordinary.”

  He walked toward his office without looking back.

  The door closed with a brief sound, and the warehouse fell quiet again.

  Zio reached the northern gate of Solcarys as the line of traffic began to slow.

  The cart he pulled came to a stop with several other wagons ahead of him.

  A guard stepped away from the side of the gate and approached.

  Zio glanced toward him. The armor was different from the gate guards in Ravenhold. A plate on the man’s shoulder caught the light and returned it in a thin sheen. There was no rust at the joints. No rough patches where dents had been hammered flat.

  The plates sat close to the body, polished, moving without noise.

  A bright crest rested at the center of the chest. Its surface had been kept so clean that the engraved lines were visible even from an angle.

  The guard lifted the cover of the cart, checked the sacks beneath, then lowered it again without haste. His hand returned to his side and stayed there. His gaze settled back on Zio.

  “Destination?”

  His tone was flat.

  “Solcarys Academy,” Zio replied.

  The guard gave a small nod.

  “Move.”

  Zio pulled the cart forward and passed through the gate.

  For a moment, the guard’s eyes remained on his back.

  Zio stepped into the city. Wide streets opened ahead, filled with people moving in a steady, ordered flow beneath pale stone facades.

  He turned his head slightly as a carriage moving without horses passed in front of him.

  Stone buildings stood tight along both sides of the road. Their walls were smooth and tall. No exposed wood like Ravenhold.

  The shops looked permanent, clean, and carefully kept. There was no smoke spilling from crooked chimneys. Instead, the air carried the scent of food. Warm bread, roasted meat, and spice drifted through the crowded morning.

  People moved along the sides of the street in neat clothing. Many wore uniforms of different kinds.

  Zio’s steps slowed without him noticing. His gaze moved left and right. He watched as he walked. The space felt dense. Too bright. Too orderly.

  His hand rose briefly to his temple. He lowered his head for a moment, then continued pulling the cart.

  He reached a wide intersection where several roads split apart.

  Zio stepped into the middle of the lane and stopped.

  He tried to recall the direction.

  He couldn’t.

  “Hey! Why are you stopping in the middle of the road!” a voice shouted from behind.

  Several people turned. The flow of traffic faltered for a moment. Eyes fell on him.

  Zio looked back. His expression did not change.

  He pulled the cart to the side without a word.

  He stopped at the edge of the road and looked toward the intersection again.

  He drew a short breath. His hand returned to the cart’s handle.

  A faint, pleasant scent drifted toward him, followed by light footsteps.

  “Hey.”

  Zio turned toward the voice.

  “Where are you going?” an elf girl asked, standing in front of him in uniform.

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