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[i]Dear mother...[/i]
Proofreading was not one of Kismet's strong suits. She never considered herself much for reading or writing, as the opportunity for scholarship never came to her. Unlike her older brothers and sisters, Kismet didn't inherit much of her father's brains, instead finding herself far better-suited to hitting things really hard with a pickaxe.
Of course, that life didn't last long. Between visions, appointments with a higher being, and the duties of a cleric, the young woman hardly found an opportunity to really explore the life of a bookworm. In fact the more she thought about it, the less choices she felt she had made for herself over the years. 

Even so, she was humble by nature, not wanting to think too highly of her own position. She had been chosen, after all - gifted, as some would say. There were people out there who dreamed to live the life she had, in servitude of a noble being. It certainly gave her purpose, and she was forever thankful for that. Yet the thought didn't seem to want to leave. 
Break time was almost over. 
She folded the letter and sealed it, making sure to deposit it so the couriers of Pinch Pols could deliver. It would be quite the journey across the country for whoever was unlucky enough to be chosen for the delivery, however she didn't know the ins-and-outs of postal delivery. Kismet assumed it would be taken by one person at a time, but again, didn't really know what to think.

The day was bright and the sun warm against Kismet's noticeably lighter skin tone. Thankfully her armor protected her from the worst of the sun's harsh rays, however the warmth was still uncomfortable to her. She much preferred the cold to a sunny day. 
The streets of Pinch Pols, while more crowded than most towns, were less so than some cities she had been to. It made her comfortable, at least more-so than the urban environments of Combedean did. Felt a little more like home. The blacksmith, especially, brought back memories of delivery ore so he could fashion them into swords. How one did so in freezing temperatures always astounded her in her youth, and she always wanted to learn. 
Honestly, she still wanted to learn. Which was why she stopped by the blacksmiths most days before she went out. 

They'd already spoken earlier, so Kismet didn't feel like approaching the hardworking man, though did watch him for a few moments - enough to notice his request which he had posted. Though she wanted to help, she hadn't any idea where to find the materials he needed, either. Also she was too far away to see what they were. 
Guilty that she couldn't help the man, she walked away with a frown on her face, dejected. Perhaps if she could win the tournament she had a chance of getting the things he needed? While a good idea on paper, unless she could fight alongside others, it was likely she wouldn't make it out alive. Supposedly the strongest in all of Combedea proper were to compete, and Blue knew she was by no means the 'strongest' in anything, let alone fighting. Besides, healing the wounds of others was what she found herself liking the most; smiles had such a beautiful sheen compared to swords, after all. 

The cleric spent so much time thinking in her own mind that she lost where she was going. Before long she'd passed into the town hall, where the laborers and locals gathered to help set up the tournament arena, as well as the stands. It seemed things were going smoothly, and, while compelled to join, didn't trust herself at doing a laborers work. She had a patrol to get to, and couldn't afford too many more distractions. 

The bustle of tourists and locals alike made the area a bit more difficult to navigate. Some especially heavy traffic got her all mixed around, unable to really find her way. It dawned on Kismet that she would need somewhere large to act as a reference point in order to get where she needed to go. 
Somewhere she could see above the other buildings easily. Something symbolic. 

... Nothing came to mind, unfortunately, so she simply headed towards the church, hoping she could find some guidance from a local...

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