The Victoria Gate and Valiant's Rest

Originally dubbed Prince Albert’s Gate during its initial construction, the 5.8 kilometer jump gate was initialized in 1887 over Balfourville, Scotland; the auspicious location chosen for its closeness to the Balfour Gravity Engine Factory below. To not sully the legacy of the “Wizard of Glasgow”, the factory’s research team slavishly worked on a bleeding edge tetherless elevator for materials to be delivered to the gate, allowing the megastructure to circumvent the need for a Tsiolkovsky Ladder. Gordon Balfour and by extension the Scots were the original defiers of gravity, and they refused to rely on the Russian tech in their own city. While impressive, the cavorite cost alone to run the elevator ballooned the company’s operating costs, until the crown nationalized the system on the gate’s completion.

The return gate was eventually created over a year later, as two teams had to be deployed to investigate and finish the process. The design was identical to its partner, though of course missing the expensive overdesigned elevator. Once completed, a large-scale investigation was launched to find the first ship sent through, the HMS Valiant. After searching the potential drop zone for weeks, only a single component of one of the Valiant’s thrusters was found. Whatever happened, it was not without a struggle. In the memory of the elusive craft, the return gate and its inevitable settlement onboard was christened “Valiant’s Rest.”

Each gate is home to over 20,000 denizens, serving both logistical and maintenance roles. Valiant’s Rest has a more sedentary population due to its location in the aether, and has as a result developed a unique subculture divorced from that of Scotland and the Avalonians. The Valianters are proud, superstitious, and stern about the maintenance and preservation of their home. After all, they refused to meet a comparable end to their namesake, any threat to their safety was taken incredibly seriously as a result. This has of course led to some bigotry, with any less-than friendly Irish passerby immediately facing suspicions as an IRA spy.

Possibly the one blind spot to their endemic paranoia is the fortified, but seemingly derelict “Galavanter’s Salon”, the local lodge of the late Society of Xenology and Exploration. The venue was forced to close when the Protectorate cracked down on unsanctioned “percussive archaeology”. The facility’s propriety, while technically in a legal gray zone due to its location on the gate, has passed to Allan Ferguson, the son of one of the Society’s founders. No one is certain what goes on in the old lodge, but the eccentric Ferguson has been seen going in and out of the place, at times with heavy crates, armed men, and other people of high society.