Today I discovered Greyharbor finally possesses one important quality.
Someone here knows how to make fried potatoes properly.
This alone has improved my emotional condition significantly.
The woman working the lower kitchen showed me how they coat the potatoes lightly with crushed salt root before frying them.
Very dangerous knowledge.
I may never recover financially.
She also laughed at nearly everything I said despite the fact I was not intentionally trying to be funny.
People in Greyharbor do that often.
Not loudly.
Just small quiet laughter like waves touching wood.
I think I am beginning to understand this place slightly better.
Or perhaps I only understand the kitchen.
That feels more realistic.
Spathian disappeared this morning before sunrise.
No explanation.
No note.
Nothing.
Ryn claimed this was “normal behavior.”
Personally I believe allowing Spathian unsupervised freedom near unfamiliar infrastructure should violate several international laws.
While waiting for him to reappear, Ryn and I spent most of the afternoon near the inn again.
Several ships arrived throughout the day.
Small passenger vessels mostly.
I noticed something strange after watching long enough.
Nobody stayed.
Not really.
Passengers disembarked quickly, collected belongings, then immediately moved inland without wandering through the harbor itself.
Most avoided looking around too carefully.
One woman physically pulled her child closer after noticing the workers near the dock.
Another man refused eye contact so aggressively he nearly walked into a crate.
I asked Ryn whether this was normal.
“No,” she answered immediately.
Then after several seconds:
“This is avoidance behavior.”
That sounded deeply unpleasant.
Tonight the innkeeper shared drinks with us near the lower bar after most guests finished eating.
The dining hall felt quieter than usual.
Rain started outside sometime after sunset.
Not heavy.
Just enough to make the harbor smell stronger.
Ryn finally asked the question she has clearly been carrying since arriving.
“How does this port survive?”
The innkeeper laughed softly at that.
Not offended.
Almost tired.
“A few ways,” he answered.
“Fishing. Repairs. Some trade.”
Then he paused briefly.
“And skin products.”
While saying this, he casually pinched the skin on the back of his own hand between two fingers and smiled.
A very wide smile.
But strangely empty somehow.
The kind that appears without reaching the eyes.
Ryn went completely still afterward.
I noticed because she only becomes that motionless when thinking very carefully.
I did not understand immediately.
Actually no.
Part of me understood immediately.
I simply did not want the understanding to continue.
The innkeeper did not elaborate further.
Instead he quietly drank from his cup while rain tapped softly against the windows.
Nobody else at the bar reacted.
For some reason that felt worst of all.
Later I asked one of the waitresses whether the rain always smelled this metallic near the harbor.
She looked surprised for a moment.
Then she answered:
“You stop noticing eventually.”
That sentence has remained inside my head ever since.
Earlier tonight I also noticed the children playing near the lower docks again.
The same group from yesterday.
One of them argued loudly with another over a carved wooden fish.
During the argument I could have sworn one of the dark marks near the boy’s shoulder shifted slightly.
Not moved exactly.
More like…
spread.
Only for a moment.
I think.
Perhaps I imagined it.
Though honestly I am no longer certain what counts as imagination anymore after Yggdra.
Ryn has spent the last hour writing trade notes again near the window.
The harbor outside remains almost completely dark.
No large ships.
No music.
No shouting.
Just rain.
I asked her earlier whether she still believes people avoid Greyharbor intentionally.
She closed her ledger before answering.
“Yes.”
Then after a pause:
“And I think the people here already know that.”
I do not know why that makes me sad.
But it does.
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