Soft sunlight filtered through the narrow streets, sliding between rooftops and washing the quiet town in a warm golden glow. The market square was only beginning to stir. A few early merchants were setting up their stalls, arranging baskets of fruit and vegetables while yawning through the cool morning air.
Somewhere a baker opened the shutters of his shop, letting the smell of fresh bread drift into the street.
Birds perched along rooftops, chirping lazily as the town woke up.
It was the kind of peaceful morning that made most people want to stay in bed a little longer.
And one person in particular was taking that idea very seriously.
Inside a small house near the edge of town, Riven lay sprawled across his bed, completely unconscious to the world. One arm hung off the side of the mattress while the blanket had somehow wrapped itself around his legs during the night.
Sunlight crept across the floor and slowly climbed the wall beside him.
Still, he didn't move.
Downstairs, footsteps echoed softly through the house.
A moment later, a voice called out from the kitchen.
"Riven!"
The name echoed up the stairwell.
No response.
His mother tried again.
"Riven, it's morning!"
Upstairs, Riven shifted slightly, pulling the pillow closer to his face.
"…five more minutes…"
The answer was barely understandable.
Downstairs, she sighed.
A few moments passed.
Then her voice returned—this time louder.
"Riven! If you don't get up right now, you're going to be late for work again!"
Silence.
Then a muffled groan from upstairs.
"…I'm awake…"
He was not awake.
His mother folded her arms.
"I'm counting to three."
There was a pause.
Then a very tired voice answered from above.
"…don't do that…"
"One."
Upstairs, Riven's eyes opened slightly.
"Two."
He stared at the ceiling.
"Three."
Riven shot upright.
"I'M UP!"
He stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over the blanket tangled around his feet. His hair stuck out wildly in several directions as he grabbed the nearest shirt from a chair and pulled it over his head.
"Why does morning exist…" he muttered.
He rushed toward the door and half-ran down the stairs while trying to fix his sleeves.
When he reached the kitchen, his mother was calmly placing food on the table.
"You're finally awake," she said.
Riven leaned against the doorway, still breathing heavily.
"…What time is it?"
She looked at him.
"The time you were supposed to leave ten minutes ago."
Riven froze.
Then he rushed to the table, grabbed a piece of bread, and started eating while looking for his boots.
"Why didn't you wake me earlier?" he asked through a mouthful of bread.
She raised an eyebrow.
"I did."
Riven blinked.
"No you didn't."
"I called you three times."
"Three?"
"Yes."
He thought about it.
"…That explains why I had three dreams where someone was yelling my name."
His mother sighed and shook her head.
"You're impossible."
Riven found one of his boots under a chair and started pulling it on.
"I'm just committed to good sleep," he said.
"You're committed to being late."
"Details."
He grabbed the second boot and forced it on quickly.
"You're not even dressed properly," she said.
Riven looked down at himself.
"Oh."
His shirt was inside out.
He stared at it for a moment.
"…No one will notice."
"Everyone will notice."
He sighed and fixed it quickly.
His mother watched him with the calm patience of someone who had seen this routine far too many times.
"You know," she said, "most people wake up before they're already late."
"That sounds stressful."
"Being late every day is stressful."
Riven grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair.
"I'll make it," he said confidently.
She crossed her arms.
"You said that yesterday."
"And the day before that," she added.
He pointed at her.
"But today I really mean it."
She walked toward the door and opened it.
"You have five minutes."
Riven stared at her.
"…Across town?"
"Yes."
"…That seems unreasonable."
She gently pushed him outside.
"Go."
"I'm going!" He said passing the door.
The door closed behind him.
Inside the house, silence returned.
His mother walked to the window and watched as Riven sprinted down the street like someone being chased.
She shook her head, though a faint smile appeared on her face.
"Late again…"
Outside, the morning air was cool and refreshing.
Ellmere was fully waking up now.
Merchants called out to each other as they finished setting up their stalls. A cart rolled down the street carrying crates of vegetables while a pair of children chased each other around it laughing.
Riven ran past them all.
"Morning!" a merchant called.
"Morning!" Riven replied while still running.
A dog sitting beside a house lifted its head as he passed.
Its tail wagged.
Another dog across the street stood up and watched him run by.
"Why… is the restaurant… so far away…" he muttered between breaths.
He turned a corner and nearly collided with a cart.
"Watch it!" the driver shouted.
"Sorry!"
Riven jumped aside and kept running.
Soon the familiar wooden building came into view.
The restaurant sat along one of Ellmere's busiest streets. A painted wooden sign swung gently above the door.
Riven slowed down just before entering, trying to look less like he had just run for his life.
He pushed the door open.
Warm air and the smell of cooking food greeted him immediately.
Several customers were already sitting at tables.
Behind the counter stood a large man with crossed arms.
Riven froze.
"…Hey Mr. Toma."
The man looked at him.
"How late am I?" Riven asked carefully.
Mr. Toma sighed deeply.
"Riven."
"Yes?" He replied in a half scared half pleading tone.
"This is the third time this week."
Riven scratched the back of his head.
"I know."
"And it's only the second day of the week."
"…That sounds worse when you say it like that."
A woman sitting near the window laughed quietly.
Mr. Toma shook his head.
"You're a good worker when you actually show up on time."
Riven brightened slightly.
"That sounded like a compliment."
"It wasn't." Mr Toma said flatly.
He pointed toward the tables.
"Go start cleaning."
Riven grabbed a cloth from the counter.
"Yes sir." He answered, like a knight being given orders.
As he began wiping down tables, the restaurant slowly filled with conversation.
Two older men argued loudly near the window.
"I'm telling you," one of them said, slamming his cup down, "the nobles in the capital are going to cause trouble again."
"They always cause trouble," the other replied.
"That's my point!"
Riven walked over to clean their table.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning, boy," the first man replied.
"Another argument about nobles?" Riven asked.
"Always," the man said.
Riven nodded thoughtfully.
"Must be exhausting being a noble."
"Why?"
"So many people arguing about you all the time."
The second man laughed loudly.
"You've got a point there!"
Across the room, Mr. Toma pointed at Riven.
"Less talking, more working!"
Riven raised the cloth like a surrender flag.
"Yes sir!"
The morning passed peacefully.
Plates moved between tables.
Customers came and went.
Outside, Ellmere continued its calm daily rhythm.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Nothing seemed important.
Just another quiet morning beneath clear skies.
Riven leaned against the counter for a moment while the restaurant briefly emptied.
"See?" he said to Mr. Toma.
"I made it."
Mr. Toma looked at him.
"You were still late."
"…details."
Mr. Toma shook his head, though a small smile appeared before he turned back toward the kitchen.
Riven glanced toward the window.
Outside, the town carried on like always.
Vendors shouted.
Children ran through the streets.
Birds flew overhead.
Everything felt calm.
Peaceful.
Like nothing in the world could disturb it.
And Riven… was just another ordinary person living his ordinary life beneath the quiet skies.