"Obviously not, your choices are your own. I hope I can give you the comfort you need, one way or the other. And either way, let's eat already." 

She goes in and orders the bacon and eggs for herself. "What're you having?" 

She orders fried veggies and stew and a side of Rubbery Lumps.

"Say, how are you liking New Winchester? It's never really felt like home to me, to be honest."

"It can be rather unsettling sometimes, but it has a kind of charm to it. The Reach gives it a character of its own, somewhere between baroque and... I'm not sure what. But between Eggs Man and the extensive markets, Rubbery Lumps and Chorister honey, I must admit I'm rather charmed."

"New Winchester is definitely something unique. Less smoggy than lower London, too, since there's no Workworlds out here. Oh, that guy. The eggs he wants are Curator eggs. Have you heard of dragons, in old folk tales? They're basically the dragons of the reach. Heaven knows what he does with them, but he must be earning a profit because he's been doing it ever since I first came here three and a half years ago."

"I know dragons, and if curators are anything like them I'd hate to pilfer their eggs. I have a healthy sense of self-preservation, something I'm told is essential in this business." 

"Yep. We're neither of us stupid enough to attack a Curator! An eminently good characteristic. Three cheers for not dying!"

"Hip hip hooray. Do you mind if I ask after London? I've never been."

"What? But you're... You have that inheritance! Huh, I guess I just assumed you grew up in London like me. Somewhere else in Albion?"

"I did tell you my history was complicated. It's my first time in the high wilderness, remember? And if you'd like to continue this line of conversation, we'd best do it back in my rooms."

"Yeah, ugh. I make assumptions and run with them sometimes, I guess. I'll drop it. London is... It's a city. It's the city, to me. There must be over a million people living in it, practically a world unto itself, all fed by Reach-imported flora grown in mechanized farm towns. It's tall - almost half as tall as it is wide, with the newer, richer sections simply built higher. It has museums and theaters and art clubs and factories and gangs and old vaults and lovely parks and everything else a city ought to have. I know the blocks where I grew up like the back of my hand, and I could make a thirty-minute trip in ten by strategic clambering among ventwork and maintenance ladders. I could wander for a whole day and never see anything I'd seen before. I met circus clowns and stonecarvers, Ministry auditors and professional thugs. I graduated from a school my parents paid too much to send me to, got into some minor troubles, got a dead-end job in a store, and wondered what to do with myself. And then..."

She shakes her head. "...I think I do want your story later if I'm telling all of mine."

"I'll shake on a trade." She offers her hand.

Lenora shakes on it, gripping firm. She checks the surroundings, notices that there's nobody at adjacent tables and it's still pretty loud, and leans forward to speak at a volume that probably won't be overheard.

"So... I didn't have much of a direction, but I kept seeing recruitment posters. 'Defend all British citizens from pirate scum!' That sort of thing - painting the skies as a lawless place in desperate need of more guns to keep the skies clear. I hadn't realized just how bad the Establishment is, then. The Clockwork Sun disaster. Whose brilliant idea was an artificial Judgement? No wonder it failed. The workworlds are honestly nothing short of slavery. But- I can't do anything about it. Couldn't then, probably can't now."

Sigh.

"Anyway, back then I thought I could help make things better. So, I joined up. Did the training, did the field exercises, did patrols around Albion. It turned out I was a good shot and I enjoyed the... Prowess of it, being a sharp, skilled sailor, protecting people. We hunted down grave robbers and marauders! Clapping the few who were left in irons after our bombardment was a great moment. And eventually we got offered a transfer to the Reach, to the Windward Company - who have a more-or-less official writ of operations or something from the Empress to maintain order and Hour imports. I took it."

"Imagine my surprise when it turned out we were mostly fighting the Tacketies. Not pirates burning and raping their way across the Reach, not sky monsters - though we did do some of that - but mostly, it was all about the Tacketies. How much we hated them, how much they were ruining everything, how thankless and insolent they were being when London made them. I was told every Tackety was a violent lunatic that absolutely had to be imprisoned or killed. I bought it, cheered and jeered. We fought light Tackety scouts and won more often than not. They tried to blow us up in turn. We chased down unarmed vessels affiliated with the Tacketies and boarded them and confiscated things, or blasted them if they wouldn't stop. I fired some of those shots. I participated in murder, less justified than the destruction of pirates or sky-beasts who would happily kill in turn.

"And then I actually met a Tackety. On leave."

"He was nice. Very eloquent. He told me his story, he had evidence and anecdotes and arguments. And I realized the Tacketies were just looking out for themselves, saving themselves and everyone else in the Reach from being controlled and put into poverty. Corruption, deliberately ruining an independent company that was competing with them with unfair fines. Shit they had told us was enemy action and sabotage was our own bosses, cutting corners to save money. Stuff like that. He wanted me to plant a bomb on the Lucid Hawk. Fuck that. But... Oh, yes, what a pity party. Have sympathy for me, the fucking bloody-handed soldier who realized that actually our enemies are people and I don't want to kill them."

"Obviously I couldn't stay. I deserted and hid out in Port Prosper for a few weeks. I found a posting with an idiot captain who didn't ask any questions and almost got us all killed several times and eventually got shanked in an alley, and the rest is history. Two years travelling around the Reach, seeing the sights and mostly enjoying it. But I still can't show my face around the Windward Company."

Her hands are balled fists resting on the table.

Thorn gently rests her hand on one of Lenora's fists. 

"I've had the luck to mostly serve against things that weren't people, and mostly on the right side, as much as sides in these things can be right. But I've known a lot of soldiers who weren't so lucky. And... I sympathize. I wonder sometimes myself, but..." 

...She relaxes and grasps Thorn's hand instead.

"...Good? Bad? I wish I felt differently, but a big part of me now believes that everything comes down to who's got a gun. That it's inevitable the people in charge will turn out to be evil eventually, because being violent, cunning, and ruthless is how you get in charge. I wish the world was nicer."

"... Come with me back to my rooms," says Thorn. "There's something I need to show you." And she stands up, and tugs gently on their clasped hands. 

"-We haven't even gotten our food yet!"

But she stands up and follows.

She goes back to her rooms, letting Lenora's hand go to get the door. 

"Alright. Let's talk about me, now. Because it has bearing on everything you've said. And because I promised to tell you in turn." 

"When I said that there was an accident I didn't much care to talk about, and that's how it was my first time in the High Wilderness, that was a terrible lie. I panicked. If I'd been smart I would have said it was my first time in the Reach, but no, I was a little too honest."

"I'm not from this universe. I'm from another universe; I'm an undercover scout for a company that trades between worlds. They're named the Oifilei Trade Consortium. OTC, like on the coins I showed you."

Lenora looks a little hurt and suspicious, but mostly confused.

"...Okay."

"... I think it might be easier to demonstrate, if you'll trust me." 

She goes to her pack and pulls out her beacon. 

"I can summon a doorway to the OTC with this. Normally I don't in my rooms, because what if a maid stumbles across it, but in this case I'm willing to make an exception." 

She sets down the beacon, keys it in, and there is a door. Thorn turns the knob, and pushes it open. 

Eva sits at a simple mahogany desk inside. The chandelier glimmers like a constellation; the walls and floor are made of interlocked brass gears. 

She waves when she sees Lenora. "Hello there!" 

"Ah, hello. What- A Horizon?"

She looks between Thorn and the person at the desk. 

"So you really have never been in the High Wilderness before, and that's somewhere else entirely?"

"Yes. This room is on the plane of Oifilei, an artificial universe commissioned bespoke by the OTC. There's technologies and magics out there of that scale. We own some of them. Come in and have a seat, we shouldn't leave the gate open for long periods and I can't come out to you for insurance reasons."