The outer courtyard had transformed into makeshift distribution center, carts loaded with supplies lined up like soldiers preparing for deployment.
Food, blankets, medical supplies, timber for emergency shelter... everything organized with military precision under Ryse's watchful command.
Snow fell again, gentle but persistent, covering ash-stained cobblestones in white that almost looked pure if you didn't know what lay beneath.
Aldric stood beside a wagon, checking inventory lists against actual supplies, quill scratching across parchment despite cold that made his fingers stiff. His breath misted in the air, mingling with the grief that hung heavy over everything like fog.
Ryse supervised guards loading the final crates, his voice carrying clear instructions without unnecessary volume. Years of military command had taught him efficiency... no wasted words, no wasted movement. Just get the work done so people could survive winter.
