A Permit to World Travel [Job]

A sunny day, not the sort of weather that Dimaria enjoyed, but since she was here to carry out a task, there was no reason for her to complain about the weather. Hargeon Town was bustling with the working population, early in the morning around seven, which was quite early, no? The Stark girl was always quiet, unless her voice needed to be heard. She was always thinking, calculating, making plans in her mind. But not this time. She was solely here to pick up a ‘passport’, a permit to travel the world, apparently, which was required to do so in Fiore. The docks at Hargeon Town were congested with people who obviously were there to get the passport as well. At the sight of this, Dimaria stopped for a moment, quite shocked and contemplating how she should get the passport. By joining the crowd? Or by waiting patiently in the line behind the crowd? She chose to do the latter. It was better than getting her hair in a mess and her dress all torn into bits, she could imagine. Now that she had decided what to do, the pale woman took a few steps forward so she was last in line, the neat little line that the people who were not super eager to get the passport made. It took quite a while, but standing and moving forward an inch every minute in an incredibly long line was not the most difficult thing she had done before in her life.

About an hour and a half later, she was second in line, waiting patiently for the lady in front of her who was quite old, with wrinkly skin, greying hair and a shaky voice. The lady took around fifteen minutes to have her passport issued. It was almost nine now, almost time for breakfast. Dimaria tapped on her folded arms with her manicured fingers. The lady stepped out of line with her brand new passport, and it was the Stark girl’s turn. She moved forward, looking up at the man issuing the small books. She gave him the necessary information, but before giving her the passport, he asked her if she was of the dark or illegal alignment, as if someone who was would say that bluntly to their face. She imagined someone who wanted the passport from such an alignment would most likely lie for it. “Of course, not. I am of no such alignment,” she told him with a puzzled look. He nodded, then stamped something on the book that would be in her possession in no time. Without another word or questioning look, Dimaria was given the passport, which she accepted with a cold smile, then turned around to leave the line, following the old lady and offering a hand to help her walk. She was trembling even though it was not even the least bit cold. With many thanks, the aged woman accepted her assistance and had a long conversation with her on the way back.