Adventure, Again (//Cancelled)

[Toaster]

Feburary 9, 828 A.S.

Olivia strode down the long hallway towards her apartment's door, shifting the weight of the grocery bags she held tightly to her chest as she walked. Most of it wasn't for herself but rather for the neighbor across from her - a kindly old woman who had welcomed the mercenary warmly when she first moved into the building. Since then, Olivia had tried to repay her inexhaustible kindness by helping her with chores when she could; when she happened to be around instead of in space.

The door to the elderly lady's home slid open and she stepped out to meet the younger woman, a wide smile adding a dozen additional wrinkles to her face.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, my dear," she cooed as Olivia stepped over the threshold and dropped the bags off on a counter. "What would I do without you?"

Olivia chuckled softly in response, rolling her shoulders. She could live off of the groceries for two or three weeks, but she knew that she would be out buying more for the old lady in less than a week's time. How the dame managed to burn through all the food so quickly would likely remain a mystery forever. Not that she minded the shopping trips; they got her out into town and provided some good exercise, exercise she wouldn't get sitting in a pilot's seat all day long.

"Oh, before I forget," the lady called out as Olivia stepped up to her own door, sliding her keycard through the wall-mounted reader. "There was a man here for you earlier."

The mercenary turned, furrowing her brows.

"A man? What sort?"

Another smile broke out over the old woman's face and Olivia could see a faint blush creep up.

"Oh, a very friendly older gentleman! Very well dressed and his manners..." For a moment, Olivia feared her neighbor might swoon but the lady caught herself and laughed. "I think he slid a note under your door after I told him you were away."

Olivia nodded a thank you and said goodbye, opening her door and stepping into her flat. Indeed, lying on the carpet was a small, paper envelope with her name written in neat cursive on it. She stooped down and picked it up, closing the door behind her. Her curiosity was triggered - she, like many people in this day and age, had never actually received a physical letter before. She sat down on her couch and tore the envelope's lid open, revealing a small sheet of paper within, and pulled it out. Unfolding it, she read what was written in more cursive on it, struggling a bit to make out the handwritten font.

Dear Ms. Sable,

I am sorry I was not able to happen upon you in person nor that I could wait for your return, but I am afraid old age limits my time spent on foot.

My name is Julius Arbentyne. You may be familiar with the name from your time in Bretonia though you would of course be forgiven in case you are not. I am sure the war kept you well distracted. I do not wish to reveal too much within this letter as to why I am contacting you. Instead, I would like to make your acquaintance in person and discuss further details on the matter with you over dinner, if that would please you. You will find, moored in orbit over Manhattan, the Mona Lisa, a yacht I have chartered for my travels. I cordially invite you aboard at your earliest convenience.

Signed with the utmost regards,
J. Arbentyne

Olivia looked at the letter blankly. She could feel the gears grinding in her mind, trying to make sense of what she had just read.

Arbentyne? She remembered the name - Arbentyne Agriculture Inc., one of the largest food producers on Cambridge. Many of the military rations she had come to get used to during her time on the front lines had been produced by the company. Why would its founder and owner be here, seeking to get into touch with a mercenary? How did he know about her?

Questions, she realized, that would likely be answered by the man himself if she chose to accept his invitation. Olivia was, of course, suspicious of it but her curiosity was too intrigued to consider ignoring it. And how often did she get the opportunity to dine aboard a luxury yacht?

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Olivia Sable