Inspector McCullough of Texas informs me by aethergraph that the RMS King George was not wrecked in the Atlantic, that it was, instead, “forced down or pulled down by hostile efforts”, whatever this phrase is to mean. I shall be booking a flight to the States to meet with the Inspector. He further informs me that there exists in the geographic grid area of the mail ship’s disappearance a small outpost of some kind on either a floating platform or small rocky island which belongs to a Principality Unknown and which, the quiet and careful voices of worldwide knowledge maintain, due to some catastrophe or contagion, has been devoid of any occupants for some time. In some dossiers it is listed as “Human population: 0”. From Savannah, where I meet the Inspector, I will participate in an expedition to the “crash site” to see what I can personally ascertain.
Major Oldrich will maintain my station for any business anyone might have with me, though I must warn you that any information you have that you do not want the lebensland of Prussia to comprehend should not be discussed with the old Major. We have only recently gotten a communication construction working for Herr Oldrich, and it is still an effort for him to speak, so I plead patience with him, he is hamstrung by our language enough as it is!