Morning at the Silver River Hub.
The yard was louder than usual. Not chaotic—just full. More wagons than yesterday. More merchants. More unfamiliar faces. The cobblestones that usually echoed with predictable rhythm now carried overlapping voices, barking horses, the creak of unfamiliar axles.
Arthur noticed immediately.
He stood at the elevated pavilion, looking down over the railing. Not just counting volume—pattern changes. Convoys arriving earlier than scheduled. New banners on wagons—unregistered houses, insignias he didn't recognize. Traders not using standard lanes properly, drifting into holding areas reserved for long-term storage.
Zack climbed up beside him, boots heavy on the wooden steps. He followed Arthur's gaze.
"You're seeing it too."
Arthur didn't look away from the yard. "New entrants."
Zack exhaled. "And not small ones."
