How to marry a master magician as a maid with a gambling problem

2.

Trying to ignore the continued applause I kept recieving for a reason unknown to me, I earnestly looked around, trying to take in my new surroundings. The village was built on a hillside, with colorfully painted timber and brick houses neatly arranged along well kept roads and around this decorated village square. In the distance, I could see a towering mountain range, their snowy peaks glinting in the sunlight. The sky above was an intense shade of blue, unmarred by any clouds and the air was crisp and clean, carrying with it the scent of flowers and cooking fires. Eventhough the trees had still been bare and dark back at the summer palace, here, wherever here was, they were already lush and green, glowing with life. Clearly in this village and everywhere around me it was already summer.

Suddenly there was a shout and moments later a tall young man wearing dark green breeches and a messenger cap came running into the village square. He skidded to a stop infront me in a cloud of dust and gravel. Bent over his knees and panting, he waved one hand at the villagers to stop clapping.

The villagers, now that the excitement had died down, began to murmur amongst themselves once more, their voices a strange mixture of unfamiliar accents and dialects. Some of them looked curious, others confused, and a few even seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. The water dripping from my clothes had begun to pool around my feet, turning the otherwise pale colored clay ground into a patch of reddish mud that clung to the soles of my shoes.

The tall male servant who had come running earlier, quickly regained his breath and without hesitation hurried over to me before bowing deeply. What followed were an ardent string of what I assumed must be words, since I couldn't even make out the seperate syllables of what was clearly a language I didn't understand. Nevertheless this servant's voice was smooth and calming, and I found myself nodding in agreement.

His face lit up in an unexpectant smile, probably thinking I had actually understood him, and he pointed down a road left of him as if beckoning me to follow. Unsure if I should really be following strange people in a strange place this easily, I hesitated for a moment but then quickly decided it was probably best to just go along with it for now. Sloshing around in my soaked leather loafers, I struggled after the young man who with a lot of courtesy and also lots of bowing, began leading me down one of the village roads and out of the square.

The villagers who had been watching me until now, quickly returned to their previous activities, but their whispers still lingered in the air. I could tell that they were talking about me, but I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

Clasping the messenger hat to his unruly curls of light brown hair, the young servant continued to be polite and respectful, as he led me through the narrow, winding streets of the village, past simple wooden houses with thatched roofs and small gardens full of colorful flowers. The sun was high in the sky, and the air was warm, but there was a light breeze that made the leaves rustle gently in the trees above us and my soaking wet uniform sag even more heavily from my shoulders.

After a few minutes of walking, we finally arrived at a large wooden building at the end of the road. It was several stories tall, and the walls were painted a bright shade of yellow, almost the same color as the sunflowers that grew in the garden surrounding it. The young servant stopped in front of the building and bowed deeply once more before speaking in that strange language again. He then motioned for us to enter the building before quickly hopping up the sandstone steps to hold the big green carved doors open for me.

Feeling very self conscious after recieving the kind of treatment that was usually only reserved for nobility, I curtsied and quietly shuffled inside the building only to stop in awe barely three steps in. Seeing the embossed golden crest and flag hanging from the ceiling behind what looked to be a receptionist's counter, and the polished black and white checkered marble floors, I quickly realized the building he had brought me to must be something like the town hall. Atleast that was the only way I could explain why there was a massive tapestry hanging on the right wall that depicted what was most evidently a hand woven village map.

I cautiously made my way to the receptionist's counter where a middle-aged woman with a tight bun and thick-rimmed glasses sat behind a desk, pen in hand and a look of calm authority on her face. Her uniform was simple but elegant, a cream colored blouse tucked into a long black skirt that fell to her ankles. The woman smiled warmly at me as I approached and I automatically bowed my head in greeting. Usually in my line of work this was the kind of woman that would not spare someone in my position a second glance even as I quietly placed the mail on her desk, but for some reason this receptionist for once seemed quite happy to see me.

Even more, after seeing my rather shabby appearance in front of her, dripping muddy fountain water on the polished floors of her foyer, she was clearly aggrieved in my stead. Most definitely admonishing the young servant who had quietly followed after me in their rather peculiar language, I was quickly herded into a side room and a large towering pile of fresh towels was dropped into my hands. The door was promptly shut behind me and then minutes later the receptionist returned holding what looked like to be her own personal spare uniform. I tried to introduce myself, to thank her, to ask this kind lady where I was and what I why I'd been brought here, but as she tried hard to listen to me a pained smile formed on her lips and she shook her head. It was obvious she wasn't able to understand me either.

Helping me wrangle with my wet apron and dress that clung uncomfortably to my skin, a few minutes and lots of embarrassment later, I was able to re-emerge from the room, only somewhat clean but atleast dry, in a receptionist uniform of my own. The skirt she had given me was surprisingly pale blue in color, complementing my brown hair and eyes, and the fabric felt soft against my bare skin. The receptionist smiled warmly at me again before yanking me into yet another room, but this time when she closed the door after me she didn't return.

Suddenly cast into what can be describe as utter darkness after experiencing the brightness of the summer sun outside, I stifled a cough as the smell of tabacco smoke enveloped me. Lumped in an old orange armchair, puffing a cigar with the curtains drawn all around him, sat an old white beared man in an elegantly embroidered waistcoat, who eyed his new guest tiredly. He mumbled some foreign words in my direction before labourously getting up from his armchair and shuffling over to the large mahogany desk that stood on the other side of the room. The white cat that had been sleeping on the red tuffted stool beside him, jumped down and happily bounded after it's master before, to my surprise, dissapating into a sparkling cloud of silver mist.

Never having seen anything remotely like that happen before, in my twenty two years of life working as a servant for the most powerful family on the continent, all I could do was gulp.

Brushing aways the mess of papers and ledgers that covered every available surface, he carefully picked out a book from his desk and then waved it in my direction.

Figuring he wanted me to come get it, I quickly walked over and carefully accepted it with both hands. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it, especially after the old man barked some foreign words at me again, but luckily he soon let out an exasperated breath and tried to mime what he wanted me to do instead.

My face flushed with embarrassement as I finally understood he wanted me to read the book, even though I knew my lack of understanding was not entirely my fault. I didn't know these people, I didn't know this language, I didn't even know where I was! I mean barely an hour ago, I'd been in the imperial palace trying to deliver the morning mail, worrying how I was going to pay my rent after last nights losses. Despite trying my best to ignore it, I felt my own anxious heartbeat banging in my chest, as the sheer adsurdity of my situation finally caught up with me.

Running a shaking finger over the leather cover of the old book the man had handed me, I suddenly blinked in confusion.

The dark imprinted title on this book, I could read it.

"JOURNAL"

The words were written in my language.

Under the watchful eyes of old man, I excitedly flipped open the first page of the worn down book and as I read the very first sentence I promptly felt a large uncomfortable lump form in my throat,

"If you are reading this, you have been cast into another world just as I, a fate of which I can only surmise must be the work of a devil..."