The door closed behind Edrin with a soft click.
The sound followed him longer than it should have.
Outside, Greyhaven was fully awake now. The market square had filled in around the well. Carts crowded the corners. Voices overlapped. Somewhere a child cried, quickly silenced. It was the same morning noise it always was. Familiar enough that most people stopped hearing it.
Edrin adjusted the satchel on his shoulder and started down the street.
He always took the same first route. Halvek liked predictability. The baker near the south wall. The cloth merchant two streets over. A ledger drop at the tannery, though he hated that one. The smell stayed with you.
He told himself not to think about the letter.
It sat flat inside the satchel, pressed between folded notices and a wrapped parcel of receipts. It did not move. It did not glow. It did nothing that could be pointed at and called strange.
And yet Edrin was aware of it with every step.
The baker greeted him with a nod and took the notice without comment. Flour dusted the man's sleeves. He smelled of yeast and smoke. Normal things. Edrin accepted the bread heel he was offered and ate it while walking, crumbs falling onto the street.
At the cloth merchant's shop, the bell above the door rang as it always did. The woman behind the counter looked up, frowned, then smiled when she saw him.
"You're early," she said.
"Routes are light today," Edrin replied.
She took the letter he handed her, skimmed it, and set it aside. No reaction. No tension. The world stayed intact.
That should have settled him.
It did not.
As he stepped back outside, he noticed a man standing across the street. Not doing anything. Just standing there, hands folded, eyes unfocused. Edrin slowed without meaning to. The man did not look at him. Did not move at all.
Someone brushed past Edrin, breaking the moment. When he glanced back, the man was gone.
He continued on.
By the time he reached the tannery, his shoulder ached. The satchel felt heavier than it had at dawn. He shifted it and winced. The guard at the tannery gate waved him through without checking the seal, which was unusual. Usually they made a show of it.
Inside, the foreman took the ledger, flipped through it, and frowned.
"This is last week's," he said.
"That's what I was given," Edrin replied.
The foreman stared at the page again. His frown deepened, then faded. He closed the ledger and nodded once.
"Right," he said. "That's fine."
Edrin hesitated. "Is it?"
The foreman looked up, confusion crossing his face. "Is what?"
Edrin shook his head. "Nothing."
He left before the man could say more.
By midmorning, the town felt wrong in small ways. A shutter stayed closed on a shop that was never closed. A street that usually smelled of onions smelled of nothing at all. Two guards argued quietly at a corner, then stopped talking when he passed.
At the bridge, Edrin paused.
The letter pressed against his side, as if it had shifted on its own. He reached into the satchel and touched it through the cloth. It was still warm.
He pulled his hand back.
Council Hall rose above him, stone clean and pale against the sky. People climbed the steps ahead of him. Clerks. Petitioners. A merchant arguing under his breath. No one spared Edrin a second look.
That was how it was supposed to be.
Inside, the hall smelled of wax and old paper. His boots echoed as he crossed the floor. A clerk stopped him at the desk.
"Upper Chamber," Edrin said, holding out the letter.
The clerk reached for it, then stopped. His hand hovered there for a moment.
"Hand delivery," Edrin added.
The clerk's expression tightened. He withdrew his hand and nodded toward the stairs.
Edrin climbed.
At the far end, one door stood open.
Edrin walked toward it.
Inside, the room was smaller than he expected. A long table. Tall windows. Someone stood with their back turned, reading.
Edrin stopped a few steps in and cleared his throat.
The figure did not turn.
He took the letter from his satchel and held it out. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a hand reached back and took it from him without a word.
That was all.
No seal was broken. No question was asked.
Edrin stood there another second, waiting for something else, then realized there would be nothing else.
He turned and left.
By the time he stepped back outside, the satchel no longer pulled at his shoulder.