A cloaked girl was running and swerving around the crowd of people going about their day.
Shouts came from behind her. A trio of thugs was pushing people to the side to gain momentum and catch the dirty rat that scammed them.
"You weasel! Get back here!"
"Huff, huff. How can she keep on running for so long???"
"That crazy brat!"
'Give your complaints to my master! Dammit!'
The girl internally cries, feeling blamed for something she had no say in.
'My head will be on the gallows if I don't finish this errand, you dimwits!'
Using her height to get them off her trail, she sharply turned into an alleyway. There she took some moments to calm her haggard breathing.
She checked the pouch tucked in her arms and sighed in relief after seeing the contents safe and intact.
With that worry off her shoulders, she rubbed the silver ring tied around her neck.
"TRAVELER of all paths, hear my humble request.
Take me to the destination my heart longs for."
The surroundings stopped, or more specifically, it slowed down. People, animals, and even the rustling of an old newspaper near her slowed down.
It was a scary phenomenon at first, but practice makes perfect, as her master always says.
She softly inhaled, and the ring she was caressing turned gold with intricate designs now molded in its surface.
"PERANTOS, viam ostende!"
She felt the air drop, and her hair stood up in goosebumps.
'Remember, Cyan. You're talented, sure, but a beginner nonetheless. Until you can unlock PERANTOS' second star, don't open your eyes during the ritual if you don't want your body to be split in two.'
The girl, called Cyan, shut her eyes even as her body felt different, momentary sensations. The harsh whipping of the air, to the scorching heat of the sun, to the feeling of being stationary on a horse so big you feel small.
Everything kept moving around her, even when she was standing still.
'This is scarrrrryyyyyy! I'm sorrryyy masterrr for not listening to youuuu.'
Cyan cries with regret for not listening to her master when she chose which constellation to serve.
Everything suddenly stopped, and she yelped as she fell forward due to inertia.
She groaned and hastily got up to wipe the dirt that had gotten on her.
The scent of fish and butchered meat that filled the market was replaced with the fresh air of nature, unbothered. The hard cement brick stone that makes a sound when her leather boots collide on it turned into soft soil, grass brushing against her exposed skin.
She looked up to see the manor at the front. It was something commoners could only dream of affording, but it was in serious need of repairs that it might as well be called "haunted house."
She silently cursed at the main family for not even sending another servant to take care of the manor where their youngest son lived.
Of course, she can't openly insult the Blanche Duchy, but her mother always told her she could insult them all she wanted when the master finally ascends the duchy.
'Just you wait, you tyrannical nobles!'
She sprinted towards the manor in a hurry; the package that she worked so hard to get was still in her arms. She can't let her master wait or he'll call her slow again.
She maneuvered around the dangerous places of the house and went upstairs, where she could hear the melodic music of the weird machine her master calls "music box" from the neighboring country called Maitribre.
She beamed and opened the door where the music came from. There, a young man sat on a wingback chair, reading a book, while his other hand was tapping on his leg, following the beat of the music.
"Master!"