Edrin woke before the bell, as he usually did.
The room above the cooper's shop smelled of old wood and damp straw. The ceiling sloped low enough that he had learned where not to sit up too fast. A single window faced the alley, its shutters warped just enough to let in a thin line of grey morning light.
He lay still for a moment, listening.
The cooper was already awake below him. Hammer on hoop. Wood on wood. A steady sound. Reliable. Edrin liked reliable sounds. They meant the day would unfold the way it was supposed to.
He dressed quickly worn boots, clean shirt if he had one, the same belt he'd owned for three years. He checked his coin before leaving. Enough for bread. Maybe stew if the day paid well.
Downstairs, the cooper nodded without speaking. They had an understanding. Edrin paid on time and didn't bring trouble. Trouble cost extra.
Outside, Greyhaven was stretching itself awake.
Smoke rose from chimneys. Carts rattled over stone. Someone shouted about late deliveries. The morning bell rang, and with it the town shifted into motion.
Edrin joined the flow.
By the time he reached Master Halvek's office, he'd already crossed half the town. That was the job. Walking. Watching. Listening without reacting. Couriers learned quickly that the town talked around them as if they weren't there.
Halvek's place sat between a tannery and a closed alehouse. The sign above the door had lost two letters, but everyone knew where it led.
Inside, the air smelled of ink and oil.
Edrin went through his usual routine, checked the rack, counted parcels, sorted routes. He didn't speak unless spoken to. Halvek liked that.
Most days followed the same pattern. Short deliveries. Longer ones. Sometimes sealed letters for merchants who didn't want records. Sometimes packages wrapped too carefully for what they claimed to be. None of it was Edrin's concern.
He was halfway through sorting when he noticed the letter on the table.
It wasn't with the others.
No twine. No label. Just a single envelope, sealed in red wax, resting beside an unlit candle.
Halvek stood by the window, staring out at the street.
"That one goes first," Halvek said without turning. "Council Hall."
Edrin paused. "This morning?"
"Yes."
"Where did it come from?"
Halvek was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Coin."
That answer meant enough and nothing at the same time.
Edrin picked up the letter.
It was heavier than it should have been.
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Halvek's jaw tightened slightly, the way it did when a delivery carried risk.
"Hand delivery," Halvek added. "Upper Chamber."
Edrin nodded, slipped the letter into his satchel, and turned toward the door.
That was when the weight settled.
Not on his shoulder, deeper than that.
As if the day itself had shifted.
He stepped outside just as the second bell rang, and Greyhaven continued as it always had.
Only Edrin felt the difference.