TW: Panic attack
Not too many miles away, donning a light coat that covered her maid's frock, Marie stood at a harbor, the salty wash hitting her smiling face. A paper was clutched to her chest and the middle-aged woman was practically jumping for joy as she waited expectantly with other eager mothers, fathers, wives, and children.
"Quite frankly, I can't believe that the ship 'ad the nerve to make a detour before arrivin'. Don't none of these merchant mongrels realize that the passengers they be helpin' to transport are more important than some goods?" An old man blowing thick smoke from his pipe scowled as he cursed the ship everyone was waiting for.
"Hon, haven't I told you not to curse the ship our son is currently on? That merchant ship is the only transport from the north to the capital. It's already our blessing that they are always willing to take a few passengers with them."
