The Bridgekeeper

They say Edrin Hale has been guarding the bridge for twenty years. Some claim he was left here when the King’s army retreated and simply never received new orders. Others say he stays because someone must — and no one else will.

He keeps the tolls in an old chest by the fire, though no one remembers when the last traveler paid in coin. Sometimes he takes food instead, sometimes stories. Once, a beggar offered him a prayer, and he let him pass for free.

Edrin talks little, but those who’ve lingered by his fire remember his words:

“The Abbey’s bells stopped. I didn’t.”

“They told me to guard this bridge. No one said from what.”

“Every traveler thinks they bring something new. They don’t.”

He drinks alone, writes nothing, and burns his letters unopened. The seal on his chest is the same as the one on the Abbey’s gates. No one has da

red to ask why.