It's on this penultimate, longest, leg of your journey that you finally knuckle down and begin to study. Your knowledge of Akitsukini was based on little more than rumour and a smattering of newspaper articles you'd read over the years. Hardly enough to establish a new life for yourself in the Autumn Empire. It would perhaps behoove you to learn at least a little about your new home.
Fortunately, the Heung-Gong has an extensive library. You find yourself spending every morning and most of your afternoons poring over encyclopedias, almanacs, instructional treaties, and a few basic language books as well. You have three languages under your command; four if one counted a good enough grasp of Tiberian to follow Latitudinarian services. Surely Akitsukini wouldn't be difficult to add to your growing family of linguistic skills?
Unfortunately, it is a language unlike any other you have learned. Two weeks in, and you have only the barest grasp of conversational speech and a smattering of other otherwise useful words. You'd written down enough phrases to fill a notebook as well, but that would take an age to flip through mid-sentence. You'd have to hope to find a friendly translator just as soon as possible.
In counterpoint to your struggles with the language, you have been thoroughly enjoying the work of a Martinist preacher who spent the better part of the 1870's in the country. It contains a detailing of the local faith, their dedication to primitive animalistic gods, and his own theories on how the Empress could claim divinity in the modern age. You cannot help but roll your rosary between your fingers as you read A Faith of Eastern Tribes, feeling somewhat heretical by association.
You've also spent breakfast, lunch, and dinner picking your way through the ship's archive of Akitsukini newspapers with piles of back issues laid out at your table, alongside a notepad and translating dictionary. You'd gone through the Dawn Star (the crosswords were an ineffective way to teach yourself the language), the Tokei Financial Observer (drier than inner Tafilalt, and difficult to translate as well), the Black Flag (hard-left fanaticism was always entertaining, at least), and Our Way (raving populist nonsense barely worth the paper it's printed on) before exhausting the ship's archive.
Akitsukini politics is as diverse and complex as anywhere else, with an added dash of extremist thought sprinkled on top. Fortunately, the war with the Caspians has come to an end, and you see no further reason why you'd have to consider the subject. You never bothered with politics in Hesperia, why should you start here?
- - -
The LMS Heung-Gong pulls into its allotted slip in the deep coastal port of Kanagawa without even the barest hint of fanfare. As you step onto Akitsukini soil for the first time, you realise you have been holding your breath. This is truly foreign territory. The people don't even look like you - or rather, you don't look like the people. You're the minority here, you have to remind yourself, though it won't be difficult to remember. Even the men seem to trend shorter than you.
You walk slowly to the end of the dock, absorbing the sights and sounds of a new and foreign land. The salty ocean spray is the same as anywhere, but the chill in the air and the smell of fruit and dockside work are a distinct change, especially when paired with the low rise of hills and snow-capped mountains in the distance.
You pass through customs with the help of a pocketbook filled with basic phrases and a passport issued by the Hesperian government. It's simple enough, as the Akitsukini agent seems intent on not speaking a word and only gestures for your documents. As you hand them over, though, you can't help but feel as if you are being watched. Turning, you catch several locals hurriedly looking away, trying to look as if they hadn't just been staring curiously at you.
You were not sure what you expected on the other side of the port offices; a busy street yes, filled with people, horses, and even a few motor cars, but that it also doubled as something of a market took you a little by surprise. It explained the smell of fruit, though now it was accompanied by an undercurrent of fresh fish amongst other, less inviting scents.
It was almost familiar, and you feel the urge to browse as you have in dozens of Hesperian markets before, trawling stalls and booths for just the right thing you could present to a friend, relation, or admirer. But, you remind yourself, this is not Europa. This is an alien land, and you need your wits about you.
A man stands at the side of the street beside a light blue motor car, his uniform civilian and plain yet the way the silver buttons shine show a certain pride, or perhaps simply a certain wealth that has gone into their choosing. He holds a small sign with a single word on it written not in the Akitsukini script of strange glyphs but in more familiar letters.
"I am de la Cierva." You say in halting Akitsukini, pointing at your own name.
"Yes madam. Is your husband with you?" he replies, though you follow maybe the first three words. After a moment you realise you are gawping and aim for something simpler in the hopes of being understood. You point at the sign and then at yourself.
"Cierva. Me." Your pronunciation is probably terrible, not many travellers were willing to let you practice on them.
"Are. You. Alone?" He replies slowly, sounding out each word.
Alone! That's a word you know. He must be asking after servants. Well, the Conde de la Cierva did not see fit to offer her Granddaughter enough of a stipend to afford a chambermaid, let alone a proper staff.
"Me, alone." You sound out, feeling like a fool. A translator couldn't come quickly enough.
He gives the tiniest shrug and opens the car's door to allow you entry. It's not until the door is closed that you realise how loud the street outside was, how almost overwhelming it was becoming. Fortunately, you have a little while to decompress before the meeting.
You pull out your watch once you're safely ensconced in the back seat of the car. It was a gift to yourself after the first flight of the C.3, the first of your 'gyro's to make it into the air. The front is neatly carved with a detailed maple seed in flight, nature's very own autogyro. It clicks open with a button press. The butterflies in your stomach know it's only twenty minutes until your future is decided.
The car pulls out into the street with the steady whirr of an electric motor and a honk of the horn. You're on your way.
---
You had expected a level of opulence from the office of a man who had brought you halfway around the world. Instead, you were led into a plain little room adjoining a factory. You hadn't been able to read the sign outside, but it looked for all the world like a construction site. A patron is a patron, but will he understand the needs of aircraft construction?
Meeting him does nothing to dispel your concerns. He stands as you enter, as does the... distinctly androgynous person seated to one side. Both bow, the younger of the pair deeper than the old man. Both ignore your proffered handshake.
"I had expected a man." The old man grumbles in his own language, taking his seat without meeting your eyes. With a slap of a newspaper laid out in front of him, he continues. "She can't be the engineer."
"She informed your driver that she is alone, sir."
"Hmm. Very well."
"Asano Taijiro welcomes you to Akitsukini, Mrs Cierva." The… man(?) says, finally switching into a language you could follow. You assume they're a man. They don't look womanly. He speaks passable Albian with a heavy accent. "He is impressed by your work as an engineer."
Your eyes narrow. You hadn't expected to understand much of the old man's words, but you certainly didn't hear the name of the country.
"Thank Mr. Taijiro, please, but could you inform him I am the Baronesa de la Cierva and I am not married. I'm afraid your choice of honorific is sorely off the mark."
The younger of the pair quietly translates into rapid-fire Akitsukini and the old man grunts. Finally, he looks you in the eye, then up and down. He leans back in his chair and intertwines his fingers on an ample belly as he does so.
The tiniest of smiles crosses the translators face as the old man speaks;
"Nobility? Humph. Aside from the Empress, I haven't trusted a single word from any of them since I bought my first company." He scowls, a creasing of his brow and a deepening of the lines around his eyes. "Then again, there's a princess in the Navy now. Who am I to interfere with progress? Tell her what we have prepared for her."
"Mr. Asano is pleased to welcome you, Baroness, and pleased to offer you a place in his employ. He has written to you extensively on this matter, I understand?"
You're not sure that four letters counts as 'extensive', but you suppose it will do.
"I'm afraid Mr. Asano has been sparing with details. I understand he is willing to fund my projects, though I'm afraid to what extent has not been made clear." This was a skill you had been taught from a young age, the verbal sparring that is as useful over a high-company dinner as it is haggling over the price of wood. Neither of you will wish to play your hands too soon, but you will pry the details from them one way or another.
"Mr. Asano will provide workshop space, staff, funding, a place of residence, and a personal stipend for a period of at least one year, with the intention of extending that period should his expectations be met."
Your eyes widen in shock. Your sparring partner could, instead of following the expected patterns and playing hard to get, simply lay out an incredible offer without any need for negotiation. That is certainly more than a little surprising.
"I… am deeply honoured by your offer, Mr. Asano, but I have to wonder why?" You say directly to the old man. Your words are translated to him in rapid Akitsukini.
"Ah, she asks questions, does she? If she is so shrewd in negotiation, then I have a good feeling. Tell her the truth, Tomomi. I wish to sell her work."
"Mr. Asano is a successful businessman. He wishes you to develop your autogyro into a product which he can sell." The translator says with so little emotion in his voice.
"That will take a lot of time. The design is currently-"
The translator raises a hand.
"He knows. To begin with, he would simply like you to recreate your most recent design with locally sourced material."
A replica of the C.5? But you'd already been working on ways to iterate on the design for the next development… No matter, if a rich man wanted to pay you to build him a plane, you'd build him the damn plane and do so in a matter of weeks. With a professional workshop and the plans you'd brought, it might go even more quickly than the first time. With luck, you could even add in a few of those improvements.
"What does she think?" The old man asks the translator.
"She is considering your offer, Sir."
"Hmm. Does she know we'll be challenging Akibara?"
"Not yet."
"Is everything okay?" You ask, ignorant of their conversation.
"Of course. Do you have an answer for Mr. Asano?"
"Absolutely. I would be honoured to build him an autogyro."
"He will be very glad to hear that."
How will you build the second C.5?
[ ] As you built the first, with no changes
[ ] You will source a larger engine to show off the power
[ ] It will be more stable and easier to maintain in flight.
[ ] You will use classically Akitsukini materials. Wasn't there a paper plane a few years ago..?
