"Some traditions need upholding, alright. Others could do with some revising. Whenever works for you really - I'm not up to much. One in the afternoon?"

"Let's go for the evening. Five PM, say?"

"Well the range closes at six... An hour's enough time, right? Okay, I'll write down directions. Starting from here?"

"Starting from here, I'm staying at the inn right close by." 

Lenora writes down instructions in scribbly handwriting - in the style of 'straight until you see the bakery with a giant rolling pin sign, turn left there' - then wanders off to heckle the darts players with a jaunty wave and allows other patrons to ask where she heard that song from, it was interestingly different, and has she got any more?

The tune is an old one passed down by her venturesome family. The words, she made up on the spot. She has some more old tunes she could share another night, but not now, she's all wrung out for the moment. Does anyone know of an artist's club? She's looking for a singing instructor. 

This woman sings amateurishly in her church choir and invites her to Sunday service. The most well-known artist's club is the Bohemian Club over on High Street but they're actually kind of expensive and pretentious. This guy's sister married well and goes to salons to gossip, they might know of some artists in need of work? This guy claims to know a famous singer but is clearly bullshitting. Someone else offers the name of a gymnasium, assuring her that it's been slowly taken over by the dance and musical scenes.

She'll pass on sunday service. Thank you for the tip about the Bohemian club. She'll be here all week if his sister gets back to him about an opportunity. Famous singer? Next. A gymnasium? Well, if she tries it and it doesn't work she's only out a little time. And it seems the best lead she has yet. 

Someone tells her their favorite busker's usual spot. The guitar player in the corner gives her a name and address, saying "The Manic Dilettante is weird but he'll teach you if you seem interesting." Nobody else has any useful contributions after that.

The guitar player can have a shilling for his specific and useful advice. She buys some pub food to eat, and once she's finished she heads back to her room at the inn. 

A couple people try to hit on her. Lenora is still in the bar when she leaves, but waves goodbye.

Nothing interrupts her return to the inn. She can access the baths and showers by unlocking them with her room key.

She waves goodbye to Lenora.

She goes back to her room, puts her bronzewood jewellery-box into her pack, and checks quickly to make sure her gold coins are still there. Then she carefully seals them back into the bottom of her backpack. 

She checks the time. 

It's 9:15 PM.

She only needs to sleep half as much as a normal human would, so a late bedtime is no concern of hers. She lights a lamp, and stays up counting her money. 

Seventeen OTC gold coins. One fifty-sovereign steel-and-glass coin. Twelve five-sovereign coins. Four one-sovereign coins. Three shillings. Two five-pence coins. At a rate of eighty-seven sovereigns to the OTC gold coin, that works out to… one thousand, five hundred and ninety-three sovereigns, three shillings, ten pence. 

She doesn't want to sell more of the gold this soon if she can help it, so that puts the vast majority of her funds off-limits. Minus one thousand, four hundred and seventy nine sovereigns. What does she have left in native currency? One hundred and fourteen sovereigns, three shillings, ten pence. Alright. Reserve seventy-five sovereign for her eventual trip to London; That leaves her with thirty-nine sovereign and change. It costs four sovereign a week to live here and another two and a bit per week for groceries. She also would like singing lessons. She has no idea how much that would cost but five sovereign a week surely ought to cover it. So that's eleven sovereign a week, letting her stay for three further weeks before she'd have to go, but there's no fun budget there. So call it 15 sovereign a week and she has roughly another two weeks after this one. 

If she keeps to that, then can she afford an engine? A thousand sovereigns is definitely "sell all of her gold" money. There are four jewellery stores in town. She can sell five coins at each of the remaining three stores and have… fifteen times ninety… One thousand three hundred and fifty sovereigns, slightly less than. A lot depends on the exact cost of an engine, but it is definitely within reach if it's near Lenora's estimates. Supplies, crew… Charts. Charts could definitely be worth something. Call it ten crew, each paid… ten sovereign? She doesn't know enough yet.

So, information. She can look at the wholesaler's prices tomorrow and see what food and fuel cost. She can ask around the rail yards for a better price on a locomotive. She can just purchase a chart or two, they'd be useful to her even if she never boards another engine again. She can ask about signing on to an engine and the average wage of a crewmember. Lenora would know that, but how best to ask? Hm. 

She checks the clock again.

It's 9:40 now. The street outside is getting emptier and emptier.

She journals for a little while, making notes on her conversation with Lenora. She doesn't think any of the shops are open anyway.

She writes some starred fiction, more to fill time than anything else. After an hour or two more she goes to bed. It's an early turn-in for her, but she should be pretending to need eight hours of sleep like a normal person. 

Starting around 6 AM, steam whistles and grinding and cranes and motors can begin to be heard from the rail yard practically right next door to this inn.

She's up. First stop the fuel and supply wholesaler to check their prices, then onwards to purchase groceries for the day and store them in her inn icebox. After that, it's time to buy a full change of clothes, including at least three more pairs of socks and underwear. And after that, she has the Manic Dilettante to investigate. 

Anthracite Coal seems to be the gold standard in fuel. A sizable barrel of quality hard coal in pelletized gravel form, weighing about 300 kilos, is sold for 5 Sovereigns. Several more questionable fuels like soft peat, lignite coal, charcoal, or some sort of lichen are available for somewhat less. A large crate of food that is meant to keep well looks like it'd feed about 15 people for a week, and costs 40 Sovereigns. They come in four different pre-mixed sets with different portions and varieties, more powdered eggs on that one, a ration of canned pork on that one...

She nods along, thanks the sales clerk, and ventures out into the city. A few trips to grocery stores and clothiers later, she knocks on the Manic Dilettante's door.

There's no answer except the faint sound of clanging from inside. If she checks, it's not locked.

"Hello?", she calls, stepping inside. "I'm looking for the Manic Dilettante?" 

The front hall of this house is a mess. Scattered shoes ranging from high-heels to sandals to combat boots to be-feathered slippers, and a coatrack made of bones, an upside-down portrait, a half-disassembled clock, and a burn mark on the wall.

"He's in the kitchen!" Comes a voice from the kitchen. That's also where the clanging is coming from.

She has a feeling she's going to instantly love or loathe this person. 

She follows the clanging into the kitchen. 

There is a slightly pudgy middle-aged vaguely-latino man hammering on an arm-ish piece of metal in a vise, on a large and sturdy table. No food is in the area. He sets down the hammer and gives a little smile and wave.

"Hello! I'm working on sculpture today! Not very well but sometimes you just need to hit something! Who're you and are you doing anything interesting today?"