Night settled heavily over Ironford yet the forges never slept Their orange glow flickered against the dark sky creating a pulse that lit the valley in steady waves Kane sat near his repaired wagon the heat from the forges warming his face but unable to reach the cold knot in his chest He replayed the man’s warning again and again Someone once traveled with your father The Guild is looking for the merchant who sold the rare frostroot

Kane stared at the ground trying to hold the pieces together The frostroot had been a chance discovery a crate abandoned behind a grain house Yet the Guild treated it like something deeper As if the roots had mattered far more than their price

The memory of his father came gently His father’s steady hands sorting herbs his calm voice teaching him about values of roots leaves and trade ethics His father had been respected quietly not by big powers but by ordinary travelers Kane wondered what kind of debts his father had left in the world and who still remembered him

The clang of metal snapped him back A blacksmith hammered at a glowing blade The rhythmic sound made Kane steady his breathing He needed clarity not fear

Serra approached carrying a small loaf wrapped in cloth Her eyes held careful concern You look pale Eat something

Kane accepted the bread The warmth eased some of the tension Thank you

Serra sat beside him on a crate Dust from the forges covered her vest and she brushed it idly Something is happening with you The Guild only watches people who matter or those who accidentally step on a sensitive trail

Kane kept his eyes on the fire I sold frostroot in Riverbend That is all

Serra frowned Frostroot is rare but not precious enough for Guild patrols Unless the roots were part of a shipment meant for someone powerful

Kane looked up sharply You think they belonged to someone

Serra shrugged I think nothing yet but the Guild never wastes effort on trivial goods If they search the northern routes they are following a thread

Kane considered the crate again The mountain goat emblem the unguarded spot behind the grain house the stall owner wanting to get rid of it quickly Something about it felt strange now Suspicious

Before he could speak Brann called out from the center of the square Scouts returned We meet now

Travelers gathered around Brann forming a half circle near the main forge Heat washed across their faces as Brann addressed them Scouts checked three routes north and brought news that will affect our direction

Brann gestured to a scout with a scar across his cheek The western route is clear Roads are dry little bandit movement but few trade towns Profit low but safe

Another scout stepped forward The eastern route faces early snow Heavy wind in the upper ridge Minor landslides Only experienced caravans should try

Then the third scout stepped forward his face grave The central route has increased Guild presence They question all merchants Some wagons have been detained for inspection Rumors say they search for someone though no one knows who

Kane felt Serra’s eyes shift toward him briefly

Brann continued We cannot risk the entire caravan on the central route until we understand more We take the western route to the coastal plains This adds two days to our journey but ensures safety

Groans echoed through the crowd but no one argued Safety mattered more than speed

Kane exhaled slowly yet felt no relief If the Guild searched the central route he had just avoided walking straight into them But running was not the solution The Guild would appear again He knew it

After the meeting Kane returned to his wagon preparing it for sleep He checked the new rope coils the repaired wheel and the herbs he traded in Highland Rest His hands shook slightly so he forced them steady

As he reached for a blanket something rattled under the seat He frowned reaching down A small wooden cylinder rolled out smooth polished with no markings Kane did not remember owning it

He opened it cautiously Inside lay a folded sheet of thin parchment He unrolled it slowly The writing was small cramped but clear

Do not trust anyone in Ironford Do not tell anyone about the frostroot Crates with the mountain goat emblem belong to someone dangerous If the Guild is searching they are already too close Leave Ironford at dawn Do not stay for the full caravan departure Someone is watching you

No signature No name Only a single small mark at the bottom A faint symbol of a pine tree

Kane’s heart pounded The warning came unexpectedly and yet felt honest Someone knew something Someone believed Kane was in danger

Serra approached again her steps soft What is that

Kane quickly folded the parchment Nothing Just a note from a villager

Serra narrowed her eyes Not everything needs hiding but do as you must Take care Kane

She left him alone again Kane stared at the wooden cylinder Its craftsmanship fine the wood smooth If someone wanted to scare him they would have written threats But the note carried urgency not intimidation

He looked toward the exiting road of Ironford lit faintly by the forge light Maybe leaving early was safer But leaving alone meant abandoning caravan protection

He lay awake much longer than he wanted listening to iron hammers striking again and again He replayed the warning in his mind One phrase clung to him like a stone in his chest

Crates with the mountain goat emblem belong to someone dangerous

If that was true then the frostroot was not a simple lucky find

He closed his eyes barely sleeping The dawn would force a choice and Kane felt the weight of it settle on him like the mountains themselves