NPC Diaries - Guard post

A piece from a world building project in no particular order - Guard post at the mountain pass

Diary of Corporal Brenric Halst — Eastern Bridge Guardpost

5th Day of the Month of First Frost

The frost came in early tonight. The river below the Eastern Bridge was a black ribbon in the moonlight, and the mist rose so thick it swallowed the far shore. I don't like nights like this—too many places for shadows to move, too many ways for a man to disappear.

Before my watch began, Sergeant Aldren had me flip through the log book. The usual merchants, a caravan from Westreach... then the final entry from last night: "Unmarked stagecoach. Did not stop." The wheel it left behind is still leaning against the outer wall like a warning. I can see the splintered spokes from here, and I remember the story Aldren told—how they almost had it cornered, right here on the bridge. Horses screaming, metal on stone, then the thing just barreled past, vanishing into the fog as if the night swallowed it whole.

We keep the alarm bell ready. None of us believe the driver's just some common smuggler anymore. Horses like those—black as pitch, eyes catching the torchlight like coals—don't spook at pikes.

Tonight, the wind's carrying strange sounds. Once or twice, I swore I heard hooves in the distance, slow and deliberate, but when I peered down the road, there was nothing. Even the torches on the far side of the bridge flickered like they were fighting to stay lit.

The others are uneasy. Orlin hasn't touched his stew, Edda keeps looking over her shoulder, and Venn... Venn's been sharpening his spear all evening, muttering something about "not letting it pass this time." I've kept my own things close—a flask, my spare gloves, and the blue ribbon my father gave me when I swore the oath to Midland.

If the coach comes again, we'll be ready. Or so I keep telling myself.