“I rather think I haven’t seen much of the world,” said an old maid, ripe of years, “I shall have to remedy that.”

Mind made up, the old maid set about doing so.

"Good gracious, Miss Hattie," said the head cook, Matilda, when she heard, "You don't truly mean that, do you?"

"I do," said the old maid in a firm voice. "I'm taking my pay, and if you could be so kind as to send me off with something to eat, I'd much appreciate it."

Though she held misgivings about the whole idea, Matilda wasn't one to argue with someone like the old maid. The last time she’d done so she’d gotten her ear pulled. Head of the kitchen, Matilda may have been, but she was younger than the relic before her.

Matilda quickly packed up some cold chicken and two loaves of soft bread, for the old maid had a weary, though blessedly, almost full set of teeth. She also packed a jar of gooseberry jam and a few handfuls of macadamia nuts.

"Do be careful," Matilda said as she handed Hattie the package.

"I shall," The old lady took her pack and went to find the Duke of Derrington to obtain her pay, and tell him of her intent to leave.

"I’m surprised, Miss Hattie," he said when she told him of her request.

“I’ve made up my mind, sir.”

Duke Soliman stroked his chin, “Do you remember, when I was a boy, you’d tell me tales of crafty wizards and desperate princes and clever maids?”

Hattie smiled at the memory, and nodded. When the Duke was a little boy, and she'd called him plain Soli, she’d often cared for him, along with her other duties. She wouldn’t say it, but he’d been a restless child, and promising to tell him a story had been one of the only ways she didn't have to chase him around the castle.

"I’m surprised,” the Duke repeated, but there was a twinkle in his eye that hinted he was excited she might go out into the world and try to accomplish things like those fairy tale heroes, “but I wish you luck on your endeavor, and if, perchance, on your journey you happen to find a good lad for my youngest daughter, please send him my way, and if the match proves successful, I am happy to reward you further.”

The Duke clasped his hands, “Miss Hattie, you’ve always been a wonderful member of this household.”

“You were a rambunctious, but sweet boy. I enjoyed watching you,” Hattie said, formality gone, “And you’ve grown into a fine Duke. Your father would be proud.”

“Thank you, Miss Hattie. May your travels be fruitful.” The Duke summoned his page to access the coffers and give Hattie her due, and even provided the old maid some extra coins for her passage, as gratitude for her years of loyal service.

Thus, the old maid set off from the Duke of Derrington's holdings to make her fortune.

"Ah, the morning air revives me," said the old maid as she walked. She hadn’t gone far when the sounds of a cart rolling along behind her grew louder and louder.

A masculine voice called out. "Grandmother, would you care for a ride? I've just finished my delivery for the Duke and I'm headed back to town."

"Thank you, young man." The old maid hopped onto the cart and settled in for the ride.

"My name is Johnson," said the cart driver.

"I don't believe I've seen you about the Duke's holdings before,” said the old maid, “I used to work for him until this morning mind you. For the past fifty years!"

"Goodness," said Johnson, "Whatever happened to drive you from his employ?"

"Oh, the Duke is a fine man and leader," said the old maid, "I've decided to go seek adventure, as I neglected to do so in my youth."

“Truly?” Johnson realized what he’d implied, “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Not to worry, I understand the strangeness.”

They rode in silence for a few more minutes, and soon, small snores came from the old maid.

Johnson smiled, and took care to avoid bumps in the road. A woman as old as the one before him, setting out to see the world would need all the rest she could get.

What an interesting encounter!

Soon, they arrived at the market. It bustled with men and women hawking their goods and services.

“I promise you’ll never have to reshoe your horse again!” One man called out.

“Best bottles of whiskey from Blaze Valley!” said another.

“Free samples! Come taste!”

“Grandmother,” Johnson tapped the old maid’s shoulder, “We’ve arrived at the market.”

With groans, the old maid sat up straight and turned her head around the place. There were stalls of all kinds and colors, and people hurrying to and fro.

“I’ll be! I haven’t seen the market in years! Thank you, young man.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Johnson, “Have a safe journey.”

The old maid stepped off the cart and into the rush of the market.

In some ways, it'd not changed in the past fifty years. But the old maid heard spices being hawked that had been reserved for kings in her youth, and meat was in even the poorest lot's pot, based on the prices she heard offered. It was a change for the better.

A spicy, savory smell wafted over to the old maid, “I’d like some of that,” the old maid walked over to the food vendor whose goods smelled appetizing. “I want two of those sticks with meat and one with vegetables.”

“Grandmother, for you?” the street vendor eyed her, then gestured to a vat on the side of the grill, “I have some nice potatoes boiling, ah?”

The old maid leaned closer to the man, and opened her mouth wide, “Ahhh,” she said, “I’ve got almost all my teeth, boy. And I’ve got coin. And for your manners I’d like a discount.”

The old lady noticed his upturned nose and eyes, “You look like one of Grace’s boys, hmmm.”

“Of course, of course, forgive me,” said the man, bashful of his arrogance, “I overstepped.”

“I shall. What’s your name, boy?”

“Han,” the man handed her the sticks, “You know my mam?”

Hattie handed him his due, and said, “Grace Smiths, correct?"

Han nodded.

"Yes," Hattie said, "She and I grew up together, here in Derington.”

“Ah,” said Han.

“And good day to you,” Hattie waved the skewers, “I’d like to enjoy these somewhere more peaceful.”

“Good day,” Han waved as she left.

The old maid took her snack and walked down to where she remembered a fountain being, in Grocer's Circle. It was still there, and clean as a floor she’d scrubbed too. She sat down on the stone edge of the fountain, and took a bite of the grilled vegetables.

"That does taste of Grace’s family’s style of cooking. What a good son," the old maid sighed, and an orange bird called a Singer, for its sweet voice, flew to her side, pecking hopefully around her for any crumbs.

"Pity I never got around to having children of my own. But. Somebody had to scrub the floors, and do the laundry, and see to it that the guests were fed and had bath herbs."

The old maid took another bite, "That's an excuse, mind you," she said to the bird as it aimed for a snap of her food, "I was an awful picky lass, that's why I never married, in the end."

She plucked a piece of vegetable off the skewer and handed it to the bird, “There you go, little thing. Thank you for listening to this old woman’s laments. Off you go.”

The bird chirped its sweet voice and flew away. The old maid took her time finishing off her skewers, to savor each bite.

“Let’s go see if the Adventurer’s Guild has anything for me,” Hattie stood up, brushed off her long skirt, and made her way down Apothecary Lane, which odd as it was, had no apothecaries. Even when she’d been a wee girl growing up in the town there’d been none. She turned off Apothecary Lane.

“There it is!” the old maid smiled at the giant stone structure that housed the bravest, and capable, as well as the stupidest and most reckless of the area.

“I wonder what that makes me,” the old maid mused, “Perhaps a bit of both.”

She stepped inside.