Airmail

Greetings to his Most Royal Majesty of Asturia
from your servant, Adrian.

As ordered, I arrived on the southern coast to meet with your prospective son-in-law, Dryden Fassa. I was met at the port by his personal assistant, Mr. Rat, who sent my luggage on and then brought me into the city to meet the young Fassa who on his way to seal a deal.

Dryden greeted me pleasantly, but his appearance quite shocked me. In truth I suppose his dress and aspect was just like all the other merchants in the city, but his personal assistant didn't think so. Mr. Rat had carried a sword down to the city for his master to wear at the business meeting, but Dryden wouldn't take it.

"For the last time, Rat, I don't want a sword. I don't need a sword!"

"Yes, you do!" insisted Mr. Rat.

"No, I don't. Get rid of it."

"But, boss, I'm only trying to help. You aren't going to make me lug this thing all around town like last time, are you? It's heavy and it's too hot!"

"YOU brought it here!"

"But it'd be cruel torture to make me carry it back! And I brought a witness this time," said Mr. Rat and he pointed at me.

Dryden looked at me, shrugged and took the sword. "Oh, fine. But don't do this again."

"But all the other merchants carry them. It's an image thing."

"Maybe they're ALL overcompensating! Like you! And they do not."

"What would I have to compensate for? I am a magnificent example of my race."

"...um. Ooookay. If you say so."

"Boss. You and a short pier."

"Yeah, yeah."

They argued like this all the way to the office of the man that they... bought a mermaid from.

"What are you going to do with a mermaid, boss?"

"You'll see."

I took the opportunity to photograph Dryden when I could over the next several days, but I was most discouraged by the results. I have enclosed the least offensive of the photos, in which he at least has a pleasant expression and is wearing clothes. Still, he looks an absolute heathen.

Despite his looks, I found him a gracious host full of cheerful good humour. He took me with him on his airship to take delivery of the mermaid and afterwards, as I spent a few days with him, I was allowed to see him engaged in other business. He seems to be very skilled and enthusiastic; he certainly does make money hand over fist, so perhaps he has inherited some of the other talents of his parents that you said you were hoping for. His employees happily obey him, his vendors and buyers admire him or fear him (or both) . He would make a great king and possibly a pleasant husband.

I say possibly a pleasant husband merely because he is not very ...Asturian. He scorns Asturian style of dress and he's exceedingly forthright, blunt and opinionated. He seems to have traded chivalry for practicality, which may not charm Millerna. However he was very taken with the miniature painting of the Princess set into the lid of the pocketwatch that you sent to him through me. He wore it ever after I gave it to him and looked at it often... and not for the time.

When I asked him if he would be able to return to Asturia to marry Millerna in a few months, he was surprised -(I surmise he had been prepared to wait until she was eighteen)- but delighted.

Desperate to get you a usable picture, the next day I asked him if he would dress up for me so that I could take his picture for Millerna. He was amenable and went below deck for awhile. When he came back up I was hard pressed to see any difference at first- he still looked like a pirate. His definition of 'dressed up' included a clean shirt, but without a collar, and the same waistcoat I'd seen on him the first day. ( I later heard that was his 'lucky' waistcoat.) He had shaved (and this was the only time I saw him so the whole time I was there) and taken down his hair. He still wore the sash and the habayah over his trousers, too.

I took his picture anyway and then asked him, "So you don't have any Asturian clothes?"

"Nope. Outgrew them all years ago. I suppose I could get some when I return, though."

"Mmm." I tried to imagine him in puffy sleeves and failed. As I looked at him, I realized he'd also swapped the sunglasses he'd been wearing for another pair of glasses whose lack of tint made their strong prescription more obvious.

"May I get a picture of you without the glasses?" I said.

He took them off, but his smile had disappeared. "Um. You said you were going to engage an artist to make a painting of me. If you give Millerna a picture of me in Asturian clothing and without glasses and with who knows what other changes, she's going to be real disappointed when she actually meets me. ...Or are you thinking she's gonna be disappointed anyway?"

I temporized and told him that I had no intentions of misrepresenting him. Considering the poker face he presented me with then, I'm not sure he believed me. This was confirmed when he pressed the point.

"Why a painting anyway? Why not just give her the photos?"

"That's just not the way royalty do things."

He rolled his eyes at me then and went back to work. I am sorry, sir. I think this errand may have rated a diplomat, rather than a photographer.

I spent the afternoon taking pictures of the ship and the mermaid. Actually I decided not to photograph the mermaid. She was completely intractable.

I finally caught up with Dryden later that evening. He greeted me cordially and then began to pump me for information. I managed not to tell him why you wanted Millerna married off sooner than planned, barely. He tried another tack.

"You know her, right? Do you think she'll like me?"

"I think you are very likable, sir."

"...Uh-huh. Yeah. But I'm to marry her, not you. Will SHE like me?"

"I think she will."

"You do? Why?"

"Er. You're eminently marriageable, sir."

"...And you're not answering my question. ...Aw, shit. I'm not her type at all, am I?"

"I shouldn't think that, sir."

"So what is it? She's in love with someone else?"

"Sir!" I feigned shock as best as I could, but how awful that his wild guesses should be dead accurate.

"I suppose I'll just have to wait and see what happens."

He was staring at me closely throughout this whole conversation, and I'm sorry to say that he seems to be a better reader of people than I am a liar.

The next morning the ship was in a tizzy and I fought my way through running people to find Dryden at his desk. "What's going on?" I asked him.

"I think it's time for me to return home. I making arrangements with my lieutenants. You are welcome to travel back with me if you wish. I ought to be ready to go in a week. Just a few things still left to tie up here."

"I think I should leave on schedule as my King requested." Which meant I was leaving today.

He gave me a level look. "Gonna warn them, huh?"

I played dumb. "Sir?"

"Oh, nevermind."

"Are you sure your business will be all right without you?"

"My people know how I like things done. They've worked for me for years and I trust their work. On the other hand, I'm not keen to let other people do my loving for me. I'm going back."

So there it is. The young Fassa is returning, but earlier than expected. My King, if things do not go well because of this, I can only offer my humblest apologies. This letter ought to get to you a few days before I do. As the gods will, may things be well.

Your most humble servant,
Adrian.

Next: Chapter Three