Nerves setting her on edge, Mahrielle was unable to sleep much that night. As such, she was already awake when it was time to begin the trek to the palace. She supposed her inability to sleep had been a sort of blessing as she was sure to have woken up later than she needed to in order to get there on time. The palace wasn't too far from the main village, where she lived, but she was still outside the kingdom's walls and she had to travel by foot.

Mr Falloway was already up and just starting to knead some dough when Mahrielle went downstairs. She smiled brightly at him when he looked up and saw her, "Good morning, Mr Falloway!"

"That it is, lass! But what are ye doing up so early?" Mr Falloway's eyebrows knit together. Mahrielle felt bad— she should have told him much sooner but she used his costumers as an excuse to hold it off as long as possible. He'd been so kind to her and was the closest to family she had.

Mahrielle swallowed, her smile fading into a sad frown, "Ah, I..." she found it even more difficult to tell the man responsible for keeping her alive and healthy for many years that she was leaving him than she'd thought it would be. She continued weakly, "You remember that great opportunity I was preparing to audition for?"

Mr Falloway brightened, "Of course! Silly o' me to have forgotten! It was yesterday, ain't it? Well? How'd it go?"

Mahrielle managed a small smile at his caring enthusiasm. "It went really well, Mr Falloway. I... I got in."

"Well, that's jolly news, lass!" Mr Falloway boomed. He wiped his hands on his apron and moved around the counter space to hug Mahrielle. Her heart squeezed painfully when his comforting and familiar hug ended. With his hands still on her shoulders, he leaned back. His wide smile slowly disappeared, "Why do ye look so upset, Mahri girl?"

Mahrielle could hardly contain her sob when Mr Falloway used his nickname for her, "I have to leave you. They're expecting me at the palace at dawn and I don't know when I'll be back," she said despairingly.

Understanding lit Mr Falloway's eyes, "That is sad news, that. But we always knew this day would come, di'nt we? I can't keep ye here, no matter how much I may wish it so. And I could never ask it of ye neither. Ye deserve to see the world, lass. And the world needs ye innit too. Ye will do great things, I know ye will. And I will always be 'ere to welcome ye home," a sad smile flittered on his face but he continued, "I am so proud of ye, Mahri girl."

The tears flowed freely down Mahrielle's cheeks as Mr Falloway talked. She had a home. And a family to come back to, one that was proud of her. She knew in that moment that she would never respect or care for anyone like she did Mr Falloway. He showed her kindness when no other would, one that was so encompassing that she would never forget it. She knew that if everyone strove to give back even a fraction of that kindness into the world everyday, it would make all the difference and the world would be an infinitely better place.

Mr Falloway reached up and wiped her wet cheeks, leaving behind a residue of flour. They both chuckled a little, lightening the mood.

"Well we can't 'ave ye trekking to the palace with an empty tummy now can we?" Mr Falloway went behind the counter again and placed a basket on top of it. He began filling it with a mix of the pastries leftover from the day before, and new ones he had just baked that morning.

Mahrielle protested, "No, really, Mr Falloway. You must keep those for the costumers."

"Oh hush ye. Let me spoil ye just this once," Mr Falloway grumbled unhappily. Once he finished, he brought her the basket filled with baked goods. "Now where is yer trunk?"

"It's up in my room. I was actually hoping I might be able to trouble you for a cart?"

Mr Falloway dismissed her request with the wave of his hand, "Oh of course, lass! I'll just go get it from out the barn, I will. Ye get yer trunk and put on yer cloak— we're still in the chilly season. Be back in a jiffy."

Mahrielle smiled at him gratefully as he left to get the cart. She breathed deeply in an attempt to clear some of the sadness away and then went back upstairs to lug down her trunk. It was a lot heavier than she'd remembered but she managed, with only a few new dented decorations to Mr Falloway's stairs and walls.

When Mr Falloway returned, he helped her carry her trunk into the cart. They stood beside it outside the bakery for a few moments in silence, the moon the only source of light, before Mr Falloway said softly, "Well it's about time ye get going, ain't it Mahri girl?"

Mahrielle's eyes started to well up again. Mr Falloway smiled a little and said, "Don't ye shed any more tears for me." It was all Mahrielle could do to nod. She sniffled and pulled Mr Falloway into a tight hug, trying to communicate all the emotions storming inside of her though it. Mr Falloway chuckled lightly, "I know, lass," he took up a more firm voice, "And I don't want ye back until ye've changed the world, ye hear me?"

Mahrielle chuckled, "Okay, Mr Falloway."

His voice turned worried, "And don't ye trust too fully in no stranger. Ye have good instincts, use them. And... and ye just be careful, Mahrielle."

"I will. And I'll be back mopping your floors in no time," Mahrielle said softly.

"Ye better not be. Ye come back and ye come back a dancer of nobility. And no noble dancer will be mopping my floors."

Mahrielle gave Mr Falloway one last hug before setting off. She knew that if she looked back, she wouldn't be able to keep her promise to restrain from crying, so she kept her head forward and walked with determination. She will return to Mr Falloway and make him proud. She'll make herself proud.

Her vigour faded away much sooner than Mahrielle would have liked. She had thought she'd gotten up on time but apparently she'd spent too much time farewelling to Mr Falloway. The sun was already beginning to rise and she was only about two thirds of the way there. She had already started to think of the worst-case-scenarios. Her exhaustion from a lack of sleep started to shine through as well, her movements sluggish and sloppy. But no, she had to make it. She wasn't about to let mere tiredness take away her dream. She hurried her steps. And immediately tripped.

Mahrielle let out a small yelp of surprise before falling. She held out her hand in attempt to brace her fall. While it did prevent the blunt of the force from her face, it also made her land on her wrist in an unnatural position. She groaned frustratedly. Of course she had to hurt her wrist when she still had to pull a heavy cart. Frustration and pain caused tears to build slowly, her nose tickling in the process. No, I will not cry. I will get up and get through this, as I have every other obstacle in my life.

Before she could rise, however, heavy footsteps sounded from her left. She turned her head to see what was causing the ruckus and released a surprised, "Oh," when she found the source.

A small troop of about eight was racing towards her on pristine steeds. She quickly got up and smoothed out her wrinkled, and now dirty, cloak in an attempt to look more presentable, her injured wrist painfully shooting sharp needles up her arm every time she moved it. The soldier who arrived in front of her first smoothly jumped off his horse and swiftly bowed to Mahrielle.

A deep voice startled the silence, "I am Captain Estelle of the ninth squadron in King Wellistar's mighty army and these are some of my soldiers. Please state your intended destination and what business you have there."