“It looks pretty good to be honest,” Thomas’ high voice echoed the sentiments his two friends shared but didn’t want to say out loud.

Roland looked at the White Mill Bridge with annoyance. It certainly seems much better maintained than expected. Not like you would usually pay attention to something like that anyway. Sighing deeply, he walked onto the bridge, “Let’s get started while there are still few people around.”

The area around them was the old industrial district. In the past, when Soren had been under control of the Enesco Kingdom, multiple workshops were located here, tasked with processing the resources supplied by surrounding villages and turning them into luxury goods to be sold elsewhere.

A war almost sixty years ago, long before most of the current citizens were even born, saw the Vasperi Kingdom taking control over a vast majority of the surrounding area.

This region, marking the border between two equally powerful rival kingdoms, was full of untamed forests and mountains, literally overflowing with valuable raw materials. It has been known as the 'Province of Seasons’ for centuries now, citizens of both countries adopting the by now basically official title.

While the name sounded quite beautiful, evoking ideas of colorful leaves, white snow, budding meadows and brilliant sunshine, it sadly had little to do with the area’s natural beauty.

Instead, it stemmed from the fact that Seasons had switched ownership several times in the last few centuries, making it not really a part of any kingdom and more of an oversized piggyback, to be smashed open every now and then. A diplomatic tool which served as an easy outlet for budding conflicts, used for generations to appease the military hardliners and at same time keep other provinces pristine and free of battle.

Following Vasperi’s victory, a slow and brutal purge of all remaining Enesco influences had been carried out. And the place hit hardest was this industrial district, its suffering having started long before the first foreign soldier even entered Soren.

All highly profitable workshops, despite being managed by locals, had in fact been under the control of various noble houses. Said nobles, upon seeing that the war wasn't turning into their favor, decided the best course of action would be to preserve profits. They send their own men to scalp everything useful from these workshops, and for good measure smash anything they couldn’t carry.

The locals who had worked in or managed these workshops suddenly lost most of their equipment, much of which had originally been made by them in the first place. To make matters worse they were now under the winning army’s careful scrutiny for their previous connections with the enemy.

No hope left and forsaken by both sides, those with the means left Soren in hopes of starting a new life somewhere else. But the vast majority weren’t able to leave, or refused to, as their roots were here.

With savings already low due to the war, and them being unable to find work under a new government, many former workers resorted to stealing or worse in order to feed themselves and their families.

Rising crime combined with a strong military presence quickly led to violent arrests and even capital punishment. This incensed the remaining workers, who were forced to live in continuously worsening conditions.

They ultimately banded together and rioted against the oppressive regime. And even though they were now technically considered citizens of the Vasperi Kingdom, nobody with power or influence thought of them that way. This situation, amounting to little less than a footnote in most history books, was one of the bloodiest conflicts Soren had ever seen.

Workers ambushing patrols at night and setting fires to temporary barracks. Soldiers raiding residential homes, forcefully dragging out people to be carted away for a swift trial.

It all culminated in a week-long siege of the industrial district. A whole battalion slowly pushing the worker back, laying waste to hastily built fortifications and collapsing entire buildings in their advance. In the end all resistance collapsed after more than two thirds of the rioters were killed.

In the wake of this conflict many people talked in hushed voices about mass executions and the brutal slaughtering of surrendered rioters.

And considering that even the best trained armies collapsed long before half of their numbers fell, little doubt remained about the validity of these rumors. After all, there wasn't much of a chance these untrained workers would hold out so long, desperate or not.

Afterwards Vasperi’s hold on the area was firmly established, with no opposition remaining. Most of the troops left and only a few hundred remained to man an ancient garrison that had changed hands as many times as the city itself. A patchwork of repairs giving it a certain historical feel.

Once the situation had stabilized, Vasperian nobles decided it was about time to shake their newly acquired piggy bank. They sent servants to establish a foothold, debating with one another on who would get which piece of the pie.

After surveying the industrial area, they concluded that building new facilities would be cheaper than repairing the devastated workshops.

And so this horrible battlefield became the old industrial district, a new one being built at a better suited position.

For some inexplicable reason however a severe shortage of local manpower hindered their projects. In order to remedy that the nobles recruited hundreds of willing entrepreneurs from their holdings and relocated them to Soren. And just like that the biggest gathering of sons last in line for inheritance, orphans and redeemed small time criminals in recent memory came about.

As for happened to the devastated industrial district. The popular saying ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’ could be aptly applied there.

Over the decades the area found many new uses by offering the cheapest housing prices in all of Soren. Pretty hard to beat free after all.

From beggars to refugees, families down on their luck or outlaws hiding from the law, everyone who needed a place to stay found it quickly in one of the abandoned workshops. Sure, many were wrecked beyond recognition, but nothing a bit of ingenuity couldn’t turn into perfectly acceptable housing.

Which is why, after years of steady repairs and modifications by a plethora of people, the area had turned into a highly respectable slum.

Centered around a grand, ten-meter-wide stone bridge, built long before the war, a sprawling labyrinth developed. Walkways connected previously separate buildings as countless secret entrances and side doors led to places only the occupants and local wildlife knew about, while hundreds of small gardens grew whatever the owners could get their hand at. Though rampant stealing and unclear housing borders often made it hard to really own anything here.

Flowing through the entire slum, and a great part of Soren itself, was the lifeline of this community, the Tarna. Originating deep in the Wildlands, far away from any kingdoms’ border, it snaked through the entire Province of Seasons, before continuing westward, ultimately flowing out into the sea.

Transport along the river had seen a sharp decline following the war, due to it leading straight into the hostile Enesco. Nowadays only a few sparse barges brought goods from villages along the river to Soren for further refinement.

It fortunately still served as a source of clean water and food, with especially the slums needing an easy way to acquire both in order to support its surprisingly high population.

Further downstream stood a truly ancient mill. Unaffiliated with anyone, the small family managing it had avoided most of the persecution following Vasperi’s occupation, only to ultimately fade away when its last member died without any descendants.

Just a stone's throw away from said mill lay the White Mill Bridge, not only a neat little piece of architecture, but also another sad reminder of the masses misguided naming sensibilities.

Thirty meters long, built using big timber planks, and resting on short, thick log pillars fifteen feet above the water. Its railing was slightly below chest height for Roland, made with spaced out square balusters, about one foot distance between each. It had, to no one’s surprise, been painted white, some small parts of the coat peeling or fading off after years of weathering the elements.

Solidly built and wide enough for five people to walk side by side, provided they lived a life of moderation. Compared to other bridges along the river the White Mill Bridge seemed a little lacking, which actually ended up making it more appealing to specific crowds. Donkey owners for one.

Having reached the middle of this storied bridge, Roland peered over the railing, careful not to touch it, down at the surging Tarna. While the water close to the banks was a prime spot for bathing and washing clothes, the river’s center, especially around the bridge’s supporting logs, had a current that could overwhelm even experienced swimmers.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Arthur and myself would probably make it out as long as we avoided crashing into the supports. But many of the refugees living here can barely float in the shallows, sometimes not even that. They’d get thrown around helplessly, drowning without anyone hearing their screams.

Lost in his thoughts Roland noticed too late that Thomas had walked up to the railing, looking down beside him. Startled, he reflexively grabbed the scruff of Thomas’ shirt and pulled his companion back roughly.

“Careful!” Roland shouted subconsciously.

Thomas let out a surprised yelp, almost falling on his butt, Roland's grip being the only thing stopping his backward momentum. Half hanging in the air like a cat being held by the scruff of its neck, he seemed more confused than hurt.

Ah, shit. Roland chided himself, before pulling his friend back into a normal position.

“Sorry about that Tommy, I was afraid you’d fall in,” he explained truthfully.

“Oh, no problem, Boss. I’ll be more careful,” Thomas forgave his leader, understanding look on his face. “Not much point in taking a swim if I’m not dirty. I’ll get wet for nothing.”

Arthur took the situation more seriously than their easily appeased friend and carefully scrutinized the railing but did not end up finding anything out of the ordinary.

“I assume we’ll be checking if the railing is damaged anywhere?” He asked with a questioning looks, not seeing any other angle for concern regarding the bridge. After all, they could hardly fix the thick main walkway if it were broken, much less the Bridge’s supports.

Don’t give me that look. It’s not like perfectly fine-looking things are somehow exempt from suddenly breaking.

“Yes,” Roland replied helplessly. “You guys start checking if you find any loose parts or similar stuff, I’ll stay here for now. Be careful.”

Seeing Roland’s frustration, Arthur realized things were apparently not cut and dry for today’s case. Deciding it would be best to give their leader some time to think on his own, he nodded, making his way towards the side of the bridge opposite of where they entered from.

“I’ll start over there, you can take the side we came from, Tommy,” he told his companion without looking back.

“Okay,” Thomas replied plainly, walking back dutifully, fully prepared to investigate like never seen before.

Roland, finding himself alone at the center of the bridge, started his own ‘Investigation’.

Walking up to the railing, he grabbed it strongly with both arms and started alternatively pushing and pulling, slowly applying more force, until he used every bit of strength he could muster on the spot. The railing moved marginally in each direction but never even came close to possible falling off or breaking in any way.

Face slightly red from the exertion, Roland made doubly sure he was in the right area. Middle of the bridge. The side not looking at the old mill. It’s the right spot for sure.

A few resigned sighs later Roland had to admit that his first impression had been right. Something fishy was afoot. Cursing himself for the umpteenth time over his late arrival in today’s vision, he contemplated the possibilities.

Five meters of railing don’t just fall down on their own. And anybody strong enough to break them would not drown helplessly. This means the victim had almost certainly nothing to do with actually causing the destruction.

Having reached this point, Roland’s brain wanted to start creating several plots of what could have happened, spinning a web of intrigue. He instead put on a serious expression and stopped his thoughts from straying.

Rule Seven: Don’t try to force malice into a death.

He thought back to what happened during today's vision, more specifically the giant cascade of water still fresh on his mind.

It felt too big, even taking into account all the wood. Something else must have fallen along into the river.

And with other lifeforms being the only thing besides a moon his visions never showed Roland, there remained little doubt as to what could have joined the victim in his impromptu swimming session.

An animal or another person. Seeing they or it also fell in, the likelihood of this being an accident skyrockets. If it was a human, it also shows they were strong enough to not drown in the river, because I only saw one death today. Technically they could have died after being swept outside of my range. Seems very unlikely however.

A vague outline established; Roland now had to decide what they needed to do to prevent the accident.

I don’t know how the victim looks, so it’s impossible to reliably find him without waiting for the situation that endangered him in the first place.

Rule Four: Never leave any possibility for a repeat scenario.

Can’t do anything with the victim so the railing needs to go. Even if it’s still perfectly functional I’ll have to break it anyway. Which means we’ll also have to repair it. Can’t have the Crescent Moon Helpers go around destroying public property for no reason after all.

Brows furrowed at the less than elegant solution, Roland tried to find a better idea. Unsuccessfully. They could stay here until midnight, persuading away everyone who tried to lean on the railing after sundown, or even try to completely block the bridge. But if their presence ended up simply making the victim come back later, things might go wrong anyway.

Ultimately, if we create a big commotion, combined with our no doubt unprofessional repairs, there should be little chance for the victim to get into the same situation. I at least wouldn’t want to stand next to the railing of a bridge on the same day part of it collapsed. Let’s believe in my fellow citizens' common sense.

Eyes opening to reveal a defeated look, Roland lamented his lack of control over this specific situation, and life in general. I can’t believe the most reasonable solution I can come up with is breaking the perfectly functional railing, and rebuilding it haphazardly.

Final thoughts about maybe just putting up a caution sign were tossed out. He had failed in today’s vision, and the price for it needed to be paid now.

Roland turned towards Thomas to make sure he wasn’t currently watching. A confused look appeared on his face as he saw his friend, crawling on all fours, gaze trained intensely on the connection point between deck and railing. Shaking his head, Roland chose to ignore the questionable inspection technique.

A quick look at the other side of the bridge showed Arthur nonchalantly watching Thomas’s antics, not even having the decency to pretend to work. Seeing Roland turn to him, he gave a knowing smile and waited expectantly for his boss’s no doubt glorious plan.

Cursing Arthur’s unknown parents, Roland decided to stop thinking and get it over with. At least Stephan is not here.

Eyes turning sharp, he shifted his right foot back slightly, turning his upper body with it. Both feet firmly planted on the bridge, Roland put his arms up in a fighting stance to achieve better balance. Arthur raised a brow in surprise at the scene, before a look of incredulity appeared on his face.

Focusing all his concentration inwards, Roland felt a slight movement throughout his body. His heartbeat accelerated noticeably as a flow of energy streamed towards his legs, solidifying and turning into strength.

Left foot taking a small step forward his right one blurred forward through the air, knee bend slightly. Roland’s whole body turned with the motion while his left leg rotated halfway until it faced away from the railing. The moment that movement was completed his right leg straightened, displaying explosive force. Combined with the power of his rotation and the firmly rooted left leg, Roland’s foot violently impacted the railing.

A loud cracking sound rang out, feeling woefully unfitting among the steady gurgling of the river.

Satisfied expression on his face, Roland watched as broken pieces of wood flopped into the water, creating big splashes. In front of him a good six-foot section of the railing was missing, leaving the way forward to a watery fate wide open.

Thomas, startled by the loud noise, jumped to his feet and whipped his head around in search of the source. Seeing Roland waving him over, he ran towards the bridge’s center, eyes growing wide upon seeing the hole.

“Good thing you pulled me back, Boss,” Thomas remarked, now slightly more fearful after previously dismissing a tumble into the river as nothing but an unfortunate bath. When in fact his swimming ability was nothing to write home about, especially after gorging himself on copious amounts of chicken.

Arthur, barely holding back his laughter, agreed with Thomas, “Yeah, real lifesaver there, Boss.”

Having just let out a good portion of his pent-up frustration, Roland did not mind his large companion’s snarky comment, instead being happy about his excellent side kick. Though the slight throbbing in his right leg spelled some sore muscles for tomorrow.

“Thomas,” Roland captured his wide-eyed friend’s attention. “Me and Arthur are going to get some wood and tools to repair this mess. You will guard the hole until we are back. Don’t let anyone endanger themselves.” Including yourself.

Thomas previous fear was instantly blown away, as few things beside foo made him more energetic than having a task to fulfill, no matter how banal. Those oftentimes ended up being his favorite ones.

“Yes Sir,” Thomas saluted, seriousness significantly diminished by his goofy grin.

“Good. We’ll be quick.” Roland declared with a grin of his own. Things were starting to look up. Breaking things can be pretty fun. Let’s hope the repairs aren’t a total chore.

“Have fun guarding, Money,” Arthur gave a quick goodbye to Thomas and joined their leader, the both of them walking back where they came from.

“Eek eek, ooh ooh ooh,” Thomas screeched after them, banging his hands on his chest manically, prompting a snort out of Arthur and a head shake from Roland.

Leaving their guardian ape to his amusement, the two boys left the bridge behind, steering through badly maintained streets towards their destination.

The nearest carpenter.