The horse snorted as he slid down from the saddle, boots hitting damp stone. The dock smelled of salt and old fish, the kind that clung no matter how far inland you went. He looped the reins around a post and rested his forehead briefly against the animal's neck.
The sack stayed on his shoulder.
It wasn't large, but it pulled at him like it weighed more than it should.
The tavern stood a short walk from the water, lanterns glowing behind fogged windows. Laughter spilled out in bursts — careless, loud. He paused at the door, listening.
Normal sounds.
Too normal.
He stepped inside.
Warmth rushed him first. Then noise. Mugs struck wood. Dice clattered. Someone laughed too loudly near the hearth. No one looked at him for longer than a breath, and that was good. That meant he still looked like anyone else.
He moved to the counter and let the sack rest by his boot.
The tavern owner met his eyes for half a second — just long enough — then looked away.
They both knew the rules.
"Drink?" the owner asked.
"Something cheap."
The sack vanished beneath the counter. Coins slid back the other way, cold and quick.
Done.
He wrapped his fingers around the mug when it was set in front of him. The drink burned going down, but his attention stayed elsewhere — the door, the windows, the corners of the room.
Something felt off.
Not danger. Not yet.
Stillness.
The door opened.
Cold air swept in first.
Then boots.
Not dock boots. Not sailors'. These struck the floor with weight and intent, metal whispering beneath leather. Conversation thinned — not all at once, but enough that he noticed.
Men entered in pairs. Dark cloaks. Polished edges. A sigil he pretended not to recognize.
The tavern owner froze.
"Easy," a voice said pleasantly.
The man who spoke smiled as he stepped forward, as if greeting old friends. His eyes were sharp despite the curve of his mouth.
"Search the place," he told his men. "Quietly."
They moved.
Barrels were opened. Crates shifted. Hay pulled aside.
Nothing.
Hope crept back into the room — thin, foolish.
Another barrel. Clean.
A crate. Empty.
Then a hand stopped.
Hay lifted.
Something wrapped in dark cloth slid free.
The smile didn't change.
"Take them outside," the man said.
Hands grabbed shoulders. Someone shouted. Someone tried to run and was dragged down hard.
The smuggler's pulse roared in his ears.
Back door. Now.
He slipped from his seat, heart hammering, pushing through the narrow hall. The door was inches away when it opened toward him instead.
A gauntleted hand closed around his collar.
"Thought so," a guard muttered.
They dragged him back into the tavern.
The man with the smile had taken a seat now, one boot hooked casually on a chair rung. He watched it all like a performance he'd already seen.
He turned toward the bar.
"Drink," he said. "Whatever he was having."
No one moved.
He waited.
A mug was poured with shaking hands.
Outside, chains rattled. Inside, the fire cracked.
The man finished his drink slowly. He set the mug down as if it mattered.
"Burn what's left," he said. "Seal the place."
He stepped back into the night.
Torches lined the street now, casting long shadows across damp stone. The sea whispered somewhere beyond the buildings, indifferent.
A man fell into stride beside him, voice low.
"Aerin is waiting."
The man nodded once.
They turned toward the quieter end of the port, where the lamps thinned and ships rested in silhouette. A small group stood there — not guards, not quite servants. Men dressed well enough to matter, tense enough to know it.
Aerin stood apart.
No armor. No sigil. Just a dark coat and boots still too clean for dock work. He watched the tavern doors close, smoke beginning to curl upward.
"Is it always like this?" Aerin asked.
The man stopped beside him.
"When it needs to be."
"That many men," Aerin said. "For one tavern."
"Ports carry rumors faster than goods," the man replied. "Tonight, we slowed both."
A pause.
"My uncle won't like this."
The smile thinned — just slightly.
"Your uncle prefers order," he said. "We provided some."
Aerin said nothing.
Smoke climbed higher behind them.
Somewhere beyond the sea walls, the world remained unchanged.
Here, something had shifted.