“Welcome, Chosen One,” Zenzele said as the familiar figure of Phesheya entered the room at Versailles.

“To you as well. Nice place, even better than the English one.”

“The French Kings did not lack for wealth, it seems. Thankfully, they also built tall, so even Mhambi Meshindi can walk the halls here.”

“Well, the King of the British was dead when we arrived. He was very old, it looks. The Chinese were pretty miffed.”

“Meshindi didn’t waste time. He made sure the King was executed swiftly and publicly, to quell any dissent.”

“Bonaparte?” Phesheya asked.

“No, the old French King. Apparently, his rule was overthrown thirty years ago or his brother’s, I’m not sure. Bonaparte usurped the throne before the Gates opened… and he is behind the Gate.”

“I’ve seen the Gate when I arrived. Weirdest thing, seeing a descriptor,” Phesheya noted.

“Apparently, even the unchosen can see it… It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Meshindi surprised by something of the Labyrinth,” Zenzele added.

Phesheya frowned. Mhambi Meshindi was the source of all knowledge of the Labyrinth, he who knew everything, every Profession, every Skill, every secret. Of course, Phesheya didn’t believe in his divine nature, but…

“Anyway, with it locked, it’s close to impossible to exchange messages quickly. The God-King says he will re-open to finish this as soon as the situation has stabilized, so we’re mostly waiting for news from England.”

“Well, I am not officially here. Thembinkosi still thinks we’re looking for the British special Chosen,” Phesheya said.

“Slipping away unnoticed, eh. Did you convince the Chinese to transport you? Unless they have subdued the British Navy already and passage on a smaller boat is safe?”

Phesheya snorted.

“Their waters aren’t large. At tier seven with my build? I swam across. This is the best way to stay unnoticed. It was a bit harder to make myself understood once on the ground, though, but I didn’t have to run all the way. A Zulu Chosen can commandeer a carriage.”

“You might have been faster running. So, what are the unofficial news?”

“The Chinese Princess has captured one of them, but the others are still missing.”

“Which one?”

“Jonas Sims.”

“Ah, the one I know.”

It had taken a few of those walks to cement Jonas’s certitude that Zhuangjing wanted to blow the Great Gate. To create Professionals. And to this purpose, she wanted to know all of it. It was hard to resist the pull. Even though he was a Professional himself, Presence sapped at your will. Presence – which she had an enormous score of, close to a thousand – meant he couldn’t fully ignore her. No matter what he wanted to do, she dominated the situation, wilfully, and that put him on the defensive.

And even the perspective that his team was now aware of his position could not change that.

He bundled himself slightly more under the heavy mundane clothing. Zhuangjing, of course, wore only her usual ethereally beautiful robe. The Artefact looked far too flimsy for the early March cold that held London in its grasp, but it didn’t really need to protect her. Her Potentials were enough to shrug earthly winter, and that made Jonas slightly jealous. She drew him for that walk soon after being resurrected, and an 85% Lingering Death left him close to mundane status.

It had been easy to get used to Professional status, of the endless growth that came with it, each day, each week make him better, he reflected. And now, he was close to ordinary, being reminded of what it was to be an apprentice leatherworker dreaming of freedom, hunched over tools to make custom-order belts, with the only perspective to open maybe one day one’s shop.

He wondered why she did not offer to lighten the burden, to forego this endless cycle, in exchange for more cooperation. That was the most enticing offer she could probably make, and yet she didn’t.

She still can’t trust the hidden parts of the Milestones.

With the help of Babbage, wherever he was now, Jonas and his team had struggled to make sense of it. Adjustment looked like a Profession but wasn’t. It followed some rules, but not all. Its bonus was unlike anything anyone had seen, even if the Cores had expanded the perspective of what was possible, like the one he was using currently, who increased his effective level for the purpose of gear limits – and, thus far, seemed to be the only one of that kind.

And the skills that came with it were all invisible. Not just to everyone, but to oneself. And those skills broke even more of the rules, even if in subtle ways. That, Jonas was certain, was what made her truly wary of him.

But while he wasn’t about to help her make more Adjusted if that was what she truly wanted, there was a related topic he could allow himself to speculate on. Because if she was fearful of what Jonas might be able to do, there was one she should be even more fearful of.

“Zenzele Cothosa, the Zulu who contacted me, said he got half a dozen levels in twenty years. Even if you dismiss the tale, and assume there are tiers high enough where one could level at 8000, it’s still not enough time. If he has 48 Adjustments…”

The defender muttered something, and Zhuangjing confirmed, “He has.”

“Then he needs experience equivalent to just under fourteen Professions. He probably needs less experience per level, even at that tier, than you do. But 8000 levels with 46 Professions, as your man says, it’s over 175 levels per Profession. Those later levels take time.”

Zhuangjing was silent, her face impassive. Although it was hard for Jonas to read the expressions of the Chinese, it was obvious she had extremely good control of herself and he had no idea whatsoever of what she was thinking about.

“I’ve pondered the question a lot myself,” she finally admitted.

“And that’s not a question one can ask him, I suppose.”

“If he’s disinclined to tell his own subjects, he’s not likely to explain his origins. Although tier-fourteen might be stranger than we Heroes think.”

“How so?” Jonas asked, his curiosity piqued.

“The tier-seven zone where I obtained my Profession has strange sights. Not far from the Plaza stands a small town. Not a ruin, like often, but an intact village. Of strange architecture, but otherwise quite normal. And populated.”

Jonas stopped walking in surprise. She turned and put on a smile.

“Not that kind of populated. The inhabitants within had creature descriptors, and while they looked human, they had leather masks, and we managed to kill a few at the outskirts of the village, only to find those masks are in fact their faces. But the creatures’ names were… unusual.”

“How so?”

“They had names like A Spry Lancer Shadow and similar standard Hero combinations. And yes, it matched what Zhan Bao said of their highest Potentials. Dexterity, then Agility, then Constitution. But one has to wonder, if further away in the depths… there might not be ones that are so close to people, they are no longer shadows of Heroes. We Chinese have long known of the spirits that can pass for people. And the amount of mischief those can make, even when they are not malicious.”

Jonas thought it unlikely. Anyone, anything not a Professional died when it crossed a Gate.

Although, if a creature could be a Professional at the same time…

How would it get Adjustment? We got it because our Potentials were all under 18. A high tier creature wouldn’t.

As they turned back toward the Palace, Jonas found himself intrigued.

Once he escaped, he’d have to talk to Babbage about it. He found himself smiling for once, attracting a look of surprise from his escort.

“I feel guilty,” Guss said.

“Don’t worry. They do have enough tier-five-plus healers to do it. And that way, you don’t have to drop out of the team,” Ira replied.

Most of the conscripted Professionals had gathered around the Gate clearing, just in case, and the area was packed. For some weeks now, the guard had been slightly lightened, allowing people to rest. Not everyone had the Fortitude scores to stand watch for days at a time without getting Stress as a status. As more teams arrived from the depths and learned of the attack, the universal reaction was outrage, and the forces had grown.

But battle across the Labyrinth was unlike the war on Earth. Finding intelligence was far harder, yet necessary.

There were no strategy tomes, no Art of War for this type of manoeuvre. Or maybe there was one, drafted by the War Office, unread behind the Great Gilded Gate. In any case, the assembled British Professionals were finally trying to figure out what was going on, because, while time was on their side in the short term, letting the enemy consolidate and reinforce might be fatal. The top defenders present had argued between themselves rather than roll dice or something, and unsurprisingly, the Imposing Knight had won.

She stood in the middle of the clearing, grasping her sword tightly. Then finally, she pumped her fist and stepped into the lighted membrane of the Gate surface.

Barely two seconds later she stumbled back, landing in an undignified pose on her backside, as dozens of healing spells, regeneration boosters and status removers hit Cowen’s armoured figure.

“So far, so good,” Laura said softly.

Neither of the three members of the Adjusted Team could see her status, as she wasn’t in their team’s descriptor, but judging from the loud and profane swearing, she was probably okay. She lifted herself from the packed ground, sword vanishing back into storage, as Calculating Tactician Charlotte made her way to the defender.

“It’s as expected, your Highness,” she said.

“I’m trying to freeze the scene in my mind, but I think they had two high-tier teams, level 700+ certainly. Also, I spotted more people further away, but not close enough. I think they might be Professionals as well, but I couldn’t get their descriptor. Cameron might have been able to… but he’s not there,” Cowen added with a tinge of sadness.

Then she winced visibly, as she reconstructed mentally more of the short time she’d been back in London.

“We timed it badly. It’s heavily overcast, and it looks like winter’s there in full. The light was bad for the late afternoon, and I could barely see most of the landing park. It didn’t seem packed, though.”

“But you took them by surprise?” the Princess asked.

“Mostly. I think they were prepared for that type of probing action, though. There was a smasher-build… A level 800… waiting next to the Gate. He tried to use a skill to bat me away from the Gate, to prevent me from escaping back, I think. That’s where I’d have liked to have someone with high Notice Attack ranks to help because I had to fall back almost instantly or I’d be at real risk. Without cover from the Gate, something like a well-aimed Air Burst could doom me.”

She shook her head.

“As it is, I did have enough vitals.”

“Good. That confirms the base strategy we’ve drafted,” Charlotte opined, without elaborating.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Both women fell silent, watching the Gate, as did the rest of the assembled Professionals.

“No counter-probe,” Charlotte said finally.

“That one would probably be even riskier than our test, your Highness.”

“Who knows with Chinese.”

She walked back to the edge of the clearing before addressing the massed Professionals.

“We’ve sorted through the lists. I think most of the high tiers are either back now or were left behind the Great Gate. We’ll give it a week to be sure, but apparently, we have allies coming. And it would be bad form to make them wait for us.”

There was a massive cheer.

“For God and King!” she shouted.

“Kill the Bastards!!!”

“What can you tell me?” Alton asked the man seated at the table.

“I confirm. My cousin does work at the Palace. Most of the staff couldn’t leave for weeks, and the Chinese don’t trust them, but they don’t have their own staff anyway, so they need him and the rest. So yes, there’s a ‘guest’ there. Can’t be sure it’s your guy.”

“Just one?” Jonathan asked.

“Just one guy held in some servant room with a Chinese Professional guarding him. But they get him out for a walk from time to time with their ruler or whatever she is.”

“Walk?”

“In the park between Saint James and the Queen’s House. There’s an entire group of Chinese in Professional garb with their weird feel sometimes you get from the Labyrinth veterans. They're the ones that do the escort.”

Alton and Jonathan exchanged looks.

“Seems too risky. Can we get into the Palace?”

“There’s lots of Chinese in. Well, lots, not that many, but at least three dozens of the bastards. And those two weird guys, maybe?”

“Weird?” Alton asked, but Jonathan immediately asked “Black men?”

“Yea. My cousin says they have some weird place in their hierarchy. The Chinese allow them whatever they want to do, and they don’t seem to be very concerned with them.”

“Okay, find out where exactly Jonas is held – can’t be anyone else – and if your cousin can figure a way for a small team to get in…”

“Not easy,” Alton finally said, long after the man had left.

“If there’s a single guard and not too much of a high tier, then we can deal with him.”

“Us two? With our gear?”

Jonathan realized that he might have been overly enthusiastic about their prospects. While nominally tier four, notably in terms of Potentials, they were misgeared currently, the equivalent of a very low tier-four, maybe a high-three. If the guard was too high level, they wouldn’t be able to deal with him. The rule of thumb that two-to-three Professionals were as good as one of a full tier higher was… flexible when considering that.

“We need some help, then,” he admitted. “Do you think the others can help us?”

“Without a clear, strategic objective? I was them, I wouldn’t risk it either,” Alton said, sadly.

“So?”

“We need to find the right angle to sell, of course.”

Jonathan’s fingers drummed reflexively on the table as he started plotting.

“We knew he was alive and prisoner, and if that’s the only prisoner they’ve taken, then depriving them of him can be a blow against them. Maybe enough to cause them to bring back the troops they’ve sent north to face General Rowland Hill, even they’re only tier-one and tier-two.”

“That sounds a good thing,” Alton said.

Tilda arrived at their table, and both men turned. They hadn’t finished their latest challenge, so her presence was quite unexpected.

“New one. Luther got him and directed him here.”

“Oh?”

“Funny guy he said, and I agree. I think he’s Haitian.”

Both Professionals frowned.

“Don’t remember any Professional from the Caribbean?” Alton wondered.

“There he is,” she pointed.

Alton and Jonathan turned back toward the entrance, and instantly spotted the shabbily dressed man, whose black skin was unmissable even in the relatively dim light of the gin house. The man raised a linen cap in acknowledgement and headed immediately toward them.

“I don’t believe I’ve met you, gentlemen.”

“Neither do we.”

“I’m Cashile Impi. Maybe your friends have mentioned me?”

Spry Lancer

(tier 6)

Required: 235 DEX, 188 AGI, 116 CON

Provides:

+20 health/+40 endurance/+17 mind/+13 aether per level

+1 Milestone/11 levels

Spry Lancer Milestone: +15 DEX, +10 WIS, +6 AGI, +4 CON, 2.5% one-handed weapon skills

Skillset: Equipment / Offence