Doors built for things
The broad warehouse entrances face the water. Smaller doors face the lanes, with a bell, a chipped number and somewhere to shelter a delivery note from rain. The district has two scales of movement: crates travel in straight lines through wide openings, while people turn sideways around parked carts and stacks of empty pallets.
The change of shift
At closing, the waterfront does not fall silent at once. One shed is still unloading while another has chained its gate. A light in a high office can belong to a cleaner rather than a clerk. The Saltyard's routines overlap, leaving short intervals when everyone assumes that someone else is still responsible for a key.
Paper that travels badly
Receipts cross the district folded into pockets. Damp softens their edges and turns a carbon copy into a pale suggestion of its original. A careful warehouse worker writes the destination twice, once on the form and once on the outside of the envelope. The second address is often the one that survives.
From the fictional county archive
Leave wet receipts on the rack. Do not put them beneath the radiator. The ink moves before the paper dries.
Continue through the archive
Places in The Saltyard
Original world fiction published by Somatry. These location stories expand the setting for readers; they are not case evidence, walkthroughs or a list of confirmed playable DLC missions.