The suburbs typical of Duchowiesen aren't easy to describe unless you've seen them yourself. They are defined by their ordered chaos: an eclectic melange of two-, three-, and five-floor apartment buildings, terrace housing along some streets, and the occasional large panel system high-rise. New development after the Continental War had to consider several different objectives at once, sometimes ones that conflicted with each other, while also prioritizing the speed of construction at the time and the quality of life in then-future, now-present. It should go without saying that the urban planning behind the districts and microdistricts of Duchowiesen's suburban areas and city expansions is near-universally seen as a tough challenge by most of the country's architectural and urban planning community. There are, of course, the braggadocian individuals who claim it to be the only worthy challenge to their level of skill, and the oddballs who actually enjoy it, but it's obvious on the face of it that not every one of either group can actually walk the walk. Those who truly, genuinely can, are the best of the best among the best.

As they walked out of The Aquamarine Locomotive, Levi looked around. The city wasn't his by any measure, yet he felt at home as he would in any other Duchowiesen city or town. What can be said - the people of Duchowiesen in its modern form were very serious about their urban landscapes. The two looked around the small plaza where the inn stood, and the several streets branching out from it. The streets themselves were all lined with broadly branching trees and wide benches, and flanked with separated bicycle paths. It was not a surprise to see a bike path anywhere in Duchowiesen; and not just in summer. Even in winter, plenty of people cycled - while wearing a greatcoat, scarf, and suitably warm hat, carrying greenhouse vegetables in the front basket, other groceries in the back pannier, and with one's kid or sibling riding along on the back of the bike, all for a very competitive fuel price of zero Friedenmarks zero Groschen. There were plenty of parked bikes in the street next to the inn as well; some within arm's reach, others standing further along the streets. Meanwhile, the houses rising above the streets were of old make and vintage architecture, many built decades before the War; four- or five-floor tall, with grocery stores and ateliers and cafes and workshops on the ground floors in many of them. Many of the apartment buildings had various impromptu additions: solar electric panels and solar heaters, radio antennae, even bucket-and-rope lifts for small items, all adding to the local color.

After they took a look around, Waleria and Levi looked to each other, and as soon as Waleria said how many blocks away her apartment was, decided that they weren't going to walk. Sure, the sun was out that day, with only a few clouds in the sky here and there, and the temperature was more than comfortable to quite literally take a hike, but that was the thing; it was more of a hike than a comfortable short walk, and the bus stop 30 metres away looked very tempting indeed. So our duo went over to it, and began to wait for a bus to arrive. Overhead, the telephone wires fluttered, the tree crowns rustled, and the city birds - mostly sparrows with their ever-rowdy behavior, flocks of pigeons milling about in the street, crows that seemed to be all too proud of being the Duchowiesen national bird, and courtesy of the Inland Sea, gulls with their affinity to shore waters - flew around, their loud calls echoing through the air. However, it didn't take more than three minutes for the bus to arrive, thanks to the sheer expertise of Duchowiesen transit services. The country's inhabitants referred to their buses, trains, and trams as "a miracle without magic", since transit networks were nearly all-encompassing, and functioned with clockwork perfection despite the inherent restrictions of railway and tram tracks that much of it was confined to.

When the bus had arrived, it was not unlike any other random Duchowiesen bus. A typical design with two front and one rear axles, glass insets in the roof for better illumination, a set of doors in the front and another one in the middle, a skilled driver among those many who could, with some effort, get it through an obstacle course, and a good-natured, moustachioed conductor who could even help you get the luggage onboard if you were old or frail. The driver of this particular bus had something of a reputation for his aspirations to professionalism and professional excellence - Waleria couldn't know it from just looking, as her job was at the tram depot, but the guy had unending pride for the many competition first prizes in the lobby of the bus depot that were inscribed with his name. Waleria and Levi stepped onboard, showed their regional transit pass cards to the conductor (Levi had a weekly one, and Waleria a transit service pass), and brushed past a couple of the passengers before sitting down midway in the back. Sitting by the window, Waleria looked on as the bus pulled away from the stop, and moved down the city street. The midsummer weather was bright, clear, and really really green: all the trees everywhere, the bushes and grass in some buildings' front yards, the climbing vines and ivy on the walls of some buildings. As the bus drove outside of the particular suburb where the inn was located, the architecture began to shift: the old-build houses from as far back as three centuries gave way to the more modern, labyrinthine apartment blocks that combined traditional aesthetics and palatial sizes with a node-and-branch structure. Waleria lived in one such apartment block, and when they'd arrive to her home, she would have to spend a bit of time just getting Levi to the needed part of it - but hey, it was part of the joy of living in Duchowiesen, so she wouldn't complain.

Around three minutes after they got on the bus, just as it exited the suburb where they met, and went down the road that led to Waleria's apartment block, Levi turned to her and said:

"I should probably tell you about the museums on the coast I've tracked down, right? There's kind of... a lot there already!"

"Yes!" Waleria replied. "I only didn't ask because... frankly, I still can't believe it. Me, an heir to a lost kingdom?"

"I can understand why," Levi said. "Well, the first museum we've got is the Lighthouse Museum of Spokojny Brzeg; it's very famous in very narrow circles, to the point that our magazine covered it once."

"Huh. Famous for what?" Waleria asked.

"The atmosphere!" Levi replied. "Just you wait and see, it's an amazing place!"

"Alright!" Waleria told him.

"Okay, so next one. The museums at Ferienstadt Binnenstrand. I'm sure you know of the place," Levi continued.

"Know it? I vacationed there once!" Waleria said. "Maybe I've already seen the Lost Kingdom items then?" she mused.

"From the catalogues, the piece we're looking for is a painting of the royal family," Levi explained.

"Hm, no... I haven't seen that," Waleria told him.

"Hm. They must've had it in storage at the time," Levi explained. "The Binnenstrand museum doesn't have that much exhibition space, from what I've heard. In any case, the third museum would be next; it's a building right next to a railway station... we can actually make a layover stop there on the way to our last destination for the trip."

"And what's that?" Waleria asked.

"The city museum of Orangenbaum-Stadt! We go there, look at their Oostelijk-Wunderwald collection, then go to some cafe nearby, drink some orange juice or maybe low-sugar Vorstel, and that's about everything! What's not to like?"

"Huh. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea for a long weekend..." Waleria mused. "I can sure do it!"