Well, what could you do but accept? This man has been kind enough to look you up, to send you a letter, and to invite you on an adventure like none you've ever been on. Oh, to be sure, you'd traveled before; to Vespucia and Meridia and across Europa. But
Lydia... before, you'd been unable to justify the cost and effort needed to make such a long journey. But with this letter, you finally had a reason!
Perhaps you could take in the spices and silks of a Ganjayan market, or spend an afternoon in one of the Cathayan port cities that were governed by more civilised nations, all while making your way to mysterious Akitsukini. Their borders had only opened half a century ago and such stories had come out since then. Dashing swordsmen dueling in the streets, silent ladies-in-waiting with beautiful pale makeup, it would almost be like traveling back in time to the Hesperia of three hundred years ago!
At the very least, even if the job offer turned out to be a dud, you could have quite the adventure along the way.
In-between your fantasizing, you spent the day writing a letter to your bank, ensuring that much of your stipend would be redirected to pay for the barn. Shipping the C.5 across the world simply wasn't a possibility, the expense would be too great. It would simply have to wait here until you returned.
Other letters were written and sent in the coming days. One to your parents informing them of your departure, to which they responded with barely disguised relief. You could do no more harm to them outside Hesperia, outside Europa even. Another went to your lenders, reassuring them that debts would be paid despite your departure from the country. Yet others went to the Ganymedian line, the Anatole railway, and the Lydian Steam Navigation Company, inquiring after possible dates and requesting prices for tickets.
It was work, and not the sort you were used to. For several weeks you spent the daylight hours working on your 'gyro and the dark evenings reading and writing letters by candlelight. You slept fitfully and awoke most mornings tired and unsettled. Fortunately coffee, thick and black and sharp, was available in great quantities.
All told, it took six weeks just to put your affairs in order. By the time you were ready to depart, autumn had firmly taken hold of Hesperia. You booked tickets, sent your acceptance of the invitation, and made all the necessary arrangements. Hopefully, you'd be there not long before the end of the year. You can't help but wonder if the war will still be carrying on by the time you arrive. You'd been paying more attention to the newspaper since the invitation, and it seems this Caspian skirmish was getting more than a little bloody.
Nonetheless, the day of departure was almost upon you and you couldn't delay much longer. You would simply have to hope for a sudden outbreak of peace by the time you arrived in the distant Eastern land. You threw your hard-wearing working boots into a traveling trunk and closed the lid firmly. It was full of clothes, books, important technical documents, and tools: just about anything a modern engineering woman might need.
You take the time to go through your drawers and make sure nothing has been forgotten. In the last, at the bottom of a dresser, is the small wooden box and accompanying holster. A pistol that a friend had gifted you before you left the city for the countryside, intended as a security measure. You'd never carried it before, as there had been no reason to. But if you were to travel so far, well…
Unbidden, your mind conjures an image of the dashing Akitsukini warrior, sword drawn and shouting over some inexplicable offense. Perhaps it
would be best to bring a weapon with you. After all, your family had ensured you could shoot almost before you could ride, and a stranger in a foreign land could never be too careful.
What personal item are you bringing with you?
[ ] A locket containing a picture of a classmate from finishing school. She is married now, of course, but you still write and she is such a dear friend.
[ ] A fereter, a portable reliquary. It contains a shard of a saint's bone. Your faith as an Apostolic is important to you.
[ ] An engraved pocket watch. It is in the most modern style, and carries a beautiful image of a maple seed in flight.
You carry a pistol, especially when traveling. What do you carry?
[ ] A Star produced Ritterin 1901 semi-automatic pistol
[ ] A Llama produced Velo-dog revolver in .25 acp
[ ] An Astra produced Wauters revolver without the gas seal
You are shaken from your thoughts of self-defense by a knock on your door. You can hear the flimsy wooden sheet vibrate in its frame with every thump and you're halfway to it by the time they finish. Looking sheepish on the low stone stoop are Manuel and Frederico, caps in hand.
"You, uh…" Manuel starts.
"Yes?" You can't help but snap at them a little. Neither of them is a fool, in fact, and both of them have been of great help in constructing the autogyros. But they're also bashful and inexperienced with women. It's frustrating.
"Mum asked if you wanted to join us for dinner." he finally finishes, "Given that it's your last night, and all. She says she wants to make sure you eat proper food one last time."
You can't help but smile. The boy's mother - and their father, but less so - is a doting Hesperian matriarch who had taken to treating you like another member of the family. It was their barn you had been renting and their table at which you ate semi-regularly. Neither of the parents truly understood your work, but they were kind and seemed happy to host a minor noblewoman as often as they could convince you.
You consider turning them down. You still have some things to sort out and you're tired, but your growling stomach puts paid to that idea.
"Of course. I'll be there in an hour." You shut the door not quite in their faces, but close enough. They made all sorts of excuses for your rudeness. You just didn't see a good reason to not be.
An hour later you take the short walk up to the main farmhouse with a bottle of deep, delicious red wine in each hand. It is the least you can do to thank them for their kindness.
Dinner is simple but incredible. Rich and flavoursome paella, marinated olives, warm bread and tortilla; it is difficult not to gorge yourself even before the evening turns to wine, cheese, coffee, and fruit. With the sun sinking below the horizon, you graciously accept a cigarette from Matias, smoking it slowly as you let the last warming rays wash over you.
"It does my heart so much good to eat like this." You say to the table at large. Gabriella, the boy's mother waves your compliments away.
"It is the least we could do. You live with us, you eat with us. Family, eh?"
"Still, I don't know when I'll be able to eat true Turian food again, certainly it will be some time." You stop to take a drag on your cigarette and blow thin smoke into the darkening sky. "I will miss this." you say honestly.
"Then when you get back, you'll finally choose one of my sons as a husband, yes? Never miss my food again." Gabriella poked the question at you every few times you met, always with a twinkle in her eye that says she isn't quite joking. You raise an eyebrow.
"Perhaps."
It's ridiculous. Absurd, even! They are kind people, generous, and you may even consider their sons to be friends. But they are
Campesino, peasants. You would not marry either man for any reason, not even the food.
It wouldn't do to say that out loud though, would it?
- - -
The truck ride to Turia took barely a handful of hours, the shortest part of the coming journey. Before the end of the day, you were aboard the
SS City of Olympios and steaming almost due East. At fifteen knots the ship was hardly crawling, but your excitement was still unabated. When you pull into Port Pertevniyal barely five days later, you're down the gangway almost before the mooring lines are tied off.
Two nights in the vibrant Anatolian city isn't nearly enough and it's all you can do to drag yourself away and board a train heading south. The squat Caspian Type O locomotive draws you and a hundred other travelers down the coast, through deep deserts and glittering oases for three crawling days before you reach Tawahi, the modern port on the southern coast. It is hot, sweaty traveling, and the going is slow. But at least you're not taking a cart or, heaven forbid, camel. You had only heard terrible things from Uncles and Aunts who'd served out here during the last wars in the Middle East.
Nonetheless, it is amazing how different Tawahi is from Port Pertevniyal. One is the jewel of the Eastern Ganymidean, the other is a hardworking port city that sweats oil and coffee beans. You only have a night, hot and restless as burning winds blow in from the North. Fortunately, you are aboard the
LMS Heung-Gong by the next evening, an enormous four-funneled passenger line that will carry you on the final leg of your journey. It will be two weeks before you reach Kanagawa, the closest port city to Tokei.
That will be plenty of time to read up on your destination.
You have a lot of time on the journey to study. Pick three:
[ ] The language.
[ ] The culture.
[ ] The history.
[ ] The politics.
[ ] The economics.
[ ] The (most-recent) war.
[ ] The religion.
[ ] Europan experiences.
