Voynich Shift - Season One (COMPLETED)

The Tauredian

1954, Tokyo, Japan. Haneda Airport.

"Passport," the Japanese gate agent sporting a white shirt and black tie requested with his hand out. The beads of perspiration on his forehead and upper lip glistened in the daylight that forced its way through several nearby windows. A light breeze managed to occasionally waft in through the opening and closing doors that lead to the steamy tarmac. It was of little relief to the perspiring man. "Sir...passport?"

"Ah, yes. I apologize. Here you are," the well-dressed Caucasian man in a blue suit replied in Japanese. He handed over the leather bound book and glanced around the bustling, post-war airport as if confused. Varieties of signs written in Hirigana and Katakana, along with a smattering of English hung sporadically throughout the airport. Smartly dressed, busy travelers of every nationality shuffled past at varying speeds. To the man, this was all too familiar, yet something...something was not quite right.

The agent looked down at the open document and then up at the blue-eyed man, not once but twice. "Sir, please wait here."

The European quickly returned his focus to the agent. "Is something the matter?"

"Just wait here, sir," the Japanese officer repeated and then turned to yell over his shoulder, "Supervisor Hideaki!"

"Yes?" replied a similarly attired man conversing with an attractive airline stewardess.

"A word?"

The supervisor sighed and with a nod of acknowledgement, he bowed to the woman, and walked toward the gate agent.  "What seems to be the trouble, Agent Isao?" Hideaki inquired, peering over the man's shoulder.

"This," the man replied in a whisper, pointing at the odd looking passport. "It appears this traveler has been here before as you can see by these stamps here, here, and here, but I do not recognize its origin."

Supervisor Hideaki turned his eyes up at the apparently frustrated European. "Sir, where is...erm, Taured?" he asked as he held up the book, flipping the finely bound document back and forth in his hand.

"Excuse me?" the tall stranger asked in astonishment and them mumbled something under his breath that sounded French.

"Taured? I have never heard of it."

"I cannot believe this!" With a huff, the man placed both hands on the counter. "Do you have a map...mr...mr?"

"Hideaki," the Japanese supervisor said with narrowed eyes. "...and yes I do, sir. One moment."

"Thank you," the Caucasian man said as the large colorful sheet of paper was presented before him. He ran his pointer finger over the document eventually stopping in southern Europe. "Okay, it is right h...what is this?"

"What is what, sir?"

"This is labeled Andorra. This must be a misprint."

"I do not understand, sir."

The European lifted the map and tapped the page. "This is completely wrong. I mean, is this supposed to be some sort of a joke? What is Andorra, Spain? It's supposed to say, Taured! It is not as if my country has been right there for well over a thousand years..."

The two Japanese officials looked at each other in confusion.

"What?" the stranger inquired.

Supervisor Hideaki looked past the odd European and raised a hand.

The man from Taured turned to find a couple of uniformed Japanese security guards flanking him on each side, seemingly from nowhere.

"Come with us, sir," one of them barked.