Claire hadn't realized how big the world was until she journeyed to Eifurt, the capital of Freesia kingdom. Well, her father did tell her. Her mother as well. Her brother, Finn, too. But that was because they had all heard it from other people. People who actually travelled.

Claire had now become the first in her family to leave the village and venture into the unknown, even though she had done so on the back of a wagon amidst sacks of rice and potatoes.

Standing before one of the many arched entrances into the heart of the kingdom, she was wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She hadn't even stepped foot inside, yet she could tell by the tall buildings, cobblestone streets and bustle of the people that this city was indeed, the land of prosperity.

A constable by the arch watched her with scrutiny. He wore full uniform, comprising a maroon jacket and matching trousers tucked into black boots, along with a black and maroon cap. The black buttons were ordinary unlike the silver-embellished ones worn by inspectors.

"You're a new face," he noted, peering at Claire.

Snapped out of her daze, Claire smiled with all her teeth. "Yes, Constable! Good afternoon!"

He rotated the baton in his hands menacingly. "Your travel papers?"

Unshaken, she nodded. "Right. Of course."

She reached into the right pocket of her dress. She had sewn pockets into the skirts of all her dresses, finding it rather cumbersome to carry a satchel or Griffin's grace, reach into her corset in public. The constable was in awe of this, of course, since dresses didn't ordinarily come with pockets.

She pulled out a folded piece of parchment, handing it to the constable.

He opened it and cleared his throat, proceeding to affirm its contents. "So, your name is Claire-"

"Claire Merryday, yes," she chirped.

"And you're from the North Ea-"

"North Eastern region, yes. From the village of Rockwell."

The Constable glared at her, unappreciative of her interruptions, but she kept her smile wide and bright, her hazel eyes twinkling in anticipation.

"My chieftain's seal is on there. Do you see it?" she asked.

The constable sighed. "I see it."

That seal, along with the sketch of her the scribe had drawn yesterday, were the only things Claire understood on that parchment. As the constable's eyes glanced between her and the parchment, she understood that he must have been trying to spot any discrepancies. The village scribe was a skilled writer and artist. He had drawn her distinct short dark hair, almond eyes, small curved nose and toothy grin quite beautifully. Not to mention the tiny mole just above the end of her left eyebrow.

She also trusted that the words written therein were true, as affirmed by the constable.

"It says here that your stay is indefinite," said the constable. "Is it for business or pleasure?"

With anchored determination and excitement claiming her heart, she answered, "Business!"

The constable was taken aback by her enthusiasm, but nonetheless returned the document to her.

"Pardon to bother you, Constable, but could you please direct me to the messenger office?" she asked, keeping her parchment. "I would like to send a message to my aunt. I'll be staying with her, but I do not know where she stays."

The constable obliged and started ratting off directions, using his baton and hands as gestures.

Claire listened intently, nodding in understanding to all he said. Finally, she gave her thanks with a bow and marched forward, making a right.

Alarmed, the constable called out, "Girl! Not that way! Left! I said go left!"

Confused, Claire turned, flashed the constable a bright smile and headed the right direction.

The capital's buildings were far too different from her village's for Claire not to gawk at them in absolute awe. They were of stone and brick, roofed with shingles. Not a single grass-thatched house was in sight. There were one-story buildings, two-story buildings and flats. Houses with dome-shaped roofs and towers. Small buildings and buildings as wide as a small lake. And the people...the people. Everyone seemed to be busy with something. She met peddlers strapped with jewellery, clocks, or carts of tableware. She peered through hair salons and barbershops, smelled coffee, bread and the aroma of dishes she had never smelled before. She saw a magnificent coach drawn by majestic white horses for the first time in years.

As she glided past a street vendor with a cart full of cabbages before him, she fell upon a crossroad. Recovering from the sensory overload of her new surroundings, she actually paid attention to them in hopes to answer the question, "Where am I?"

Her mind drifted back to the constable-to his blather and specific gestures of his hand and baton, but found she could not make sense of it. She had been so engrossed by the capital's wonders, she completely forgot to follow the directions!

Not that she remembered them, anyway.

She told herself that she was a big girl. She could definitely find her way.

So she walked towards the vendor and gave him a great smile. "Good afternoon, mister."

"Good afternoon," he replied. "Would you like to buy some cabbages?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I'm actually searching for the messenger office. I must get there quickly, so could you give me the directions?"

"Ah. Well, take this right and then..."

The man babbled on, listing off streets and shops she needed to pass to reach her destination. Claire nodded, willing her mind to process and retain the information. She thanked the man after he finished, and started her journey by marching straight ahead.

The vendor whistled. "Oi, miss! Don't go that way! I said take a right! Come back!"

Claire turned and looked at the man in confusion.

The man pointed to the road by his side with his right hand. "Take this path."

"Oh!" Claire smacked her forehead lightly. "Silly me!"

She scuttled back, thanked the man again and advanced in the right way.

Her attention was taken by the beautiful buildings yet again. By peddlers with a dozen clocks inside their coats. By various fruit stalls. She could not remember how many turns she took, nor what turn to take next. Had the vendor told her to look out for a drapery shop or a blacksmith's? Hadn't she passed one already?

Unsure, she sought directions from a peddler, and away she went to the messenger office. She walked for several minutes, passing by unfamiliar yet familiar buildings until she came to a crossroad.

Had she been there before?

"Miss!"

Startled, Claire turned towards the voice and saw a cabbage vendor looking curiously at her. She gasped upon realizing it was the same vendor she encountered not too long ago.

"Did you find the office?" he asked.

"Oh no," she whined, rushing to him. "Could you tell me the directions again? I got lost."

"Alright. Listen carefully, yes?"

"Yes."

Claire listened as attentively as she could to the man while he gave descriptions of the buildings and streets in repetitive detail.

"Understood?" he asked at the end.

"I have understood everything very clearly. Thank you very much, mister." Claire smiled.

With renewed determination, she ventured straight ahead.

"Miss!" the vendor called, slapping one of his cabbages in frustration.

She turned around, furrowing her brow.

He pointed vehemently to the path on the right. "Right is this way. This way!" He flung his arm up and down like some sort of exercise.

Claire brightened up and nodded. "Yes, of course! Thank you!"

As she retracted her steps and advanced on the right road, the vendor gazed after her, somewhat worried.

The novelty of the capital's wonders was starting to wear off the further Claire walked and the more times she asked for directions. She looked around the street she was on, not sure if the barbershop here was the same one she'd come across before.

Relenting, she approached a young woman by the side walk. She seemed about her age, only taller. She was quite pretty, with a heart shaped face and long luscious brown hair. Her eyes were light brown, her fair skin flawless. From the fabric and embellishments of the dress, Claire could tell she was of a higher class.

Before she could greet her with a cheery smile, the young lady asked, "Where are you going?"

Claire blinked. "Yes?"

"You've passed through this street about four times already, and asked directions twice from different people. I suppose you've come to ask me the same thing, so where exactly are you going?"

Clare gave a sheepish smile. "The messenger's office. And good afternoon, Miss."

The young lady sighed. "It's on the next street. Go around the corner to your left into the next street and just stop walking. You'll see it there."

"Thank you so much." Claire bowed to her and quickly went on her way.

These directions were curt and bore no descriptions, so it was easy for her to remember and follow them. She stopped walking as instructed and looked around. Despair loomed over her when she still could not locate the messenger office.

They all looked the same.

Would she have to go into every single building and ask? Her feet were rooted to the spot, unwilling to get lost all over again. Like always.

Snippets of the conversation with her mother yesterday surfaced in her mind.

"Listen to me closely, dear. Don't get off that wagon for even a minute until you reach the capital. And when you do, hold onto the first constable you find and have him take you straight to the messenger office, alright? Please don't try to find it on your own and do exactly as I say, yes?"

Claire had to argue that she was a big girl who didn't need a guide. That she would simply ask for directions and find the way by herself.

And now here she was. At twenty-two years of age and still unable to differentiate East from West; right from left. Perhaps he had been right when he had said she would be a lost cause in the capital.

Claire shook her head immediately. It wouldn't do her good to think of her flaws now when she'd only just arrived. It wouldn't do her good especially to think of him.

Since the messenger office was on this street, all she had to do was find it. Even if it meant walking through every single building.

"Lost again?"

Claire turned and found the young lady who had given her the brief directions.

"Hello again, Miss," Claire greeted before laughing nervously. "Well, the buildings all look the same."

The young lady grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. She pointed across the street to the second building with a tower. "There is the office you're looking for. It's even engraved in bold just above the entrance; MESSENGER OFFICE. Can you not read?"

It was then that Claire noticed the pretty, well-arranged lines across the buildings. Letters, she imagined.

She met the young lady's questioning gaze and blushed, looking down in embarrassment.

The young lady read her expression and realized her mistake. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Claire shook her head and managed a feeble smile. "It's fine. I'm actually from a village in the North Eastern region. The capital is posh and prosperous, so I understand the assumption that everyone here is literate." She looked up at her. "I best be going, so thank you for your help."

"Take care," said the young lady, and Claire rushed across the street.

The messenger office was much larger inside than its exterior. The first thing Claire noticed was this enormous structure resembling a tree on one side. It bore several branches with no leaves, and on it was perched a variety of small eagles watching her with crimson eyes.

Immediately, she fell to her knees and prostrated before it. "Hail the mighty Griffin!" she proclaimed.

With her eyes shut tightly, she took a moment to revere the beast god's messengers. These eagles with crimson eyes were sacred, for they were the Griffin's sight. It was said that they knew every single person in the kingdom, even by name, and could easily find his or her location. It was why they were the designated messenger birds. Only two were in her village, so she was overwhelmed to find so many huddled together.

Claire finally raised her head just as a man in a white robe with golden embellishments at the hem and a tall white cloth headdress approached her. It was this attire that let her know he was a scribe.

"May I help you?" he asked with a gentle smile.

Claire arose and returned the smile. "Good afternoon, Scribe. My name is Claire Merryday, from the North Eastern region. I've come here to find my aunt. Will you write a message for me?"

The scribe nodded. "Of course."

A wide desk was in the centre of the room, just behind the divine tree. On it were some scrolls and paper in different sizes, some books, an inkpot and quill, as well as a bird stand. Behind the desk in the furthest corner of the room was a flight of stairs leading to the tower above. The rest of the walls behind the desk were lined up with box compartments, each with a keyhole, save for a space against which a shelf leaned. On it were various cartridges and wooden containers.

Claire stood in front of the desk as the scribe sat on an armchair behind it.

"How long is the message?" he asked.

"'I would like to inform her that I've arrived, and that I will wait for her here."

The scribe took a small piece of paper, dipped his quill in ink and began to write. When he was finished, he stood and bowed to the tree.

"I humbly request services of the Griffin's Sight," he implored.

One of the eagles flew over onto the stand on the desk. The scribe folded the letter and placed it into a cartridge, which he then strapped to the eagle's leg.

"Your aunt's name?" the scribe asked Claire.

"Rinata Hearth."

The scribe relayed the same to the eagle, and as it took flight, both Claire and the scribe bowed after it.

He offered her a seat, so she gladly sat on the bench by the wall opposite the divine tree to wait for her aunt.

She hadn't seen her since she was five years old. Rinata used to live in the North Eastern region in another village close to Rockwell. When her husband died, she left with her then seven-year-old daughter to stay with her in-laws in the Western region. It was only a few months ago that Claire's mother received word from Rinata-that she had remarried and now lived with her husband and daughter in the capital.

It had taken a lot for Claire to convince her parents to let her come to the capital, even after finding out she would have relatives to lean on.

It was now up to her not to squander this opportunity. She would do her best, and she would become a seamstress like she always dreamed.

Soon, someone walked through the door, catching Claire's attention.

It was a tall man, about six feet and three inches, with a body seemingly made of pure muscle. He wore a black uniform made of jotegra-a smooth and costly fabric only worn by nobles, complete with a black cape. The collar and buttons of the tunic were bronze, as were the vambraces, poleyn and pouldron. He wore a baldric round his waist at which a sword hung in its scabbard.

The man had sharp rugged features, with a slight stubble across his jaw, and short blond hair. He moved with a regal air, but when he approached the tree, he faced it and bowed with a quiet grace.

That was when Claire spotted the Griffin insignia embroidered on the back of his cape in gold.

She stood at once, her mind making the connection between the insignia, his uniform and the way he carried himself. This man was a knight.

As he turned, Claire clasped her hands in front of her and bowed in respect. "Good afternoon, Sir."

She didn't dare look up. Not until he replied in a deep gruff voice, "Good afternoon."

The knight then paid attention to the scribe, who was already standing.

"Good afternoon, Sir Ephraim," he greeted.

"Good afternoon, Scribe. I come to send a message on behalf of Captain Raziel," said the knight. His gloved hand extended a scroll of paper to the scribe. "To Melody Hawthorn."

"Certainly, Sir." The scribe graciously accepted the scroll.

Once the messenger eagle took flight with the scroll, the knight took his leave while Claire gazed after him.

She had encountered a knight once before, when she was fifteen. A terrifying monster had crept into the swamp near the village, crawling out every night to feast on the livestock including her family's sheep. The foot soldiers sent by the governor of the region had been unable to defeat it, with many of them severely injured.

At last, a knight arrived.

She had been too scared to join the villagers who accompanied the knight to the swamp, but he later told her all that happened with zeal and blatant admiration. How the knight had tracked the monster easily to its hiding spot in the swamp. How he had faced it alone. How gallantly he had fought with his own strength, cutting the monster up into pieces with his sword.

The villagers called him a Blessed One because it took him five minutes to defeat a threat several foot soldiers couldn't for four days. And he aspired to become just like him.

Claire wondered whether he had. It had been three years since he discovered his Blessed Gift and left to become a knight. She wondered whether he was now living his dream.

Her thoughts were disrupted by another person walking in, this time a woman.

Claire's eyes lit up and a grin blossomed across her face when she recognized the older woman. "Aunt Rinata!"