“What the balls you mean, there are Chinese in Marsden?” Jonathan Atkinson exclaimed.
“Apparently headed to the Manhattan Gate. A team noticed them when they crossed from Machelenso. And no idea how they got validated, you know how Machelenso is busy.”
“So it’s a single team. At least it’s not an invasion.”
“A high tier team though. All of them sport Artefacts. Lots.”
Webster Hale frowned, then swore. Atkinson turned to his aide, inquiring.
“Intel says that Artefacts are the semi-exclusive province of their Greater Heroes. Or, rather the top of the cream of them.”
“Which means?”
“Which potentially means if it’s a team, it could be their top team. Imperial Princess Zhuangjing and her group.”
“Wait? Do we have Chinese royalty inbound? Are you serious?”
“Just saying it’s a definitive possibility.”
“How on Earth is something like that even a possibility?”
“We’re dealing with the imperial aristocracy. One that is backed by Labyrinth tiers of individual power. If she – assuming that’s her – decides to do it, few people outside of her own family will be able to rein her in.”
Atkinson covered his face with his hand.
“Which means the rest of the Chinese imperial crown is okay with that incursion. Great.”
He turned back to his aide.
“What does she want?”
“No idea. The Labyrinth has changed quite a few things regarding diplomatic stuff when it comes to China. If you have an Imperial Princess – and the highest levelled Professional of the Middle Kingdom – coming instead of a diplomat, it’s both a mark of respect and of importance.”
Hale looked sheepishly before adding, “I think.”
“I assume you’ve already dispatched a message to Secretary Tompkins?”
“The Gate Office Secretary is supposed to be back from Washington early next week. Semaphore message will cross his path.”
Atkinson closed his eyes tiredly.
“What do we do?”
“Throw a state reception. Invite our top Professionals – that is what they respect in terms of power these days. Sound her or whoever will be the designated speaker about why she’s coming. Not commit to…”
“As if I’d sign a treaty. I’m just the Assistant Secretary, not the President.”
The waiters and chefs were all hurrying, making everything ready. Webster Hale turned toward the hotel manager to thank him again for being able to organise such a banquet on short notice.
“When Miss Underwood says to do it, we do. Her father owns the hotel anyway. Besides… I think our kitchen relishes the challenge. I hear the Chinese make an art out of cooking, and we will do our best to impress them with what the States can do.”
The Gate Office gopher came out of the back of the hotel to find most of the Professional delegation assembled and chatting in the front room, waiting for the arrival of the delegation. He noticed Sylvia Underwood talking animatedly with another high tier Professionals and hurried to her side.
“Thanks a lot again for your help, Miss.”
“Don’t worry, M. Hale. You know me, when the Gate Office can make use of my services, I am always there to offer them.”
Sylvia smiled as the harassed Hale went away to fuss over another detail. The Gate Office was treating this as some kingly visit, but she knew better. The Greatest Hero might be coming for something she might not be able to negotiate for, but she was sure there would be Labyrinthine opportunities. And she might be an Imperial Princess of the Second Rank but she was also primarily a Professional. You didn’t get to tier seven without being one.
And she already had an idea on how to capitalize on that.
“See. You worry too much,” Sylvia said to Atkinson.
The banquet was possibly a success. It was hard to gauge – the Chinese cultivated an air of affected detachment that made hard to guess what they really thought of barbarian efforts to impress them. But she’d suggested a buffet rather than formal tables. Seating order aside, that kind of banquet would have been proper if you had the President, the Vice-President or at best someone of cabinet-level to greet an imperial family member. Without them, the semi-informal arrangement of distinct groupings – well briefed – that the Princess could approach freely at her convenience seemed to have worked out. And move around she had, sounding all forms of guests.
“I can’t even fathom how this fell upon us,” he replied.
“The Labyrinth has been around for two decades. Of course, if you are willing to adapt, you need to go into uncharted territory. But people who ply the Labyrinth are the same under the gear.”
“If she wants something…”
“I will not mortgage the United States. Now shush, I think she’s looking to talk to me this time,” she replied.
“I hope this meagre and improvised reception has been to your liking,” Sylvia said to the Greatest Hero of China.
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The Second Rank Princess was with her main retinue. A defender and probably a healer, judging from the attire. All of them wore full-matching high-tier Labyrinth regalia and all the uncanny Artefacts that a tier seven could bear, which comforted Sylvia into her idea that the Princess wanted everyone to remember that China was a Labyrinth power, not just an earthly one. She would have loved to get a look at their weapon's descriptors, but none of those were in view.
“It is interesting. You have a very diverse culture,” she said, waving toward the no-longer overflowing buffet tables.
“The continent had many people, and, of course, we also had immigrants from many places in Europe. For such a small place, it always had great diversity,” Sylvia said demurely.
“And this is your estate.”
“That of my esteemed father. Although I am not in line to inherit the business, it is still family’s.”
The Princess’ smile did not waver, but Sylvia knew she’d scored a point. No Princess of Second Rank, no matter how high in tiers of Professional power, was in line to get near the throne. And she could easily guess how much that fact might grate on a woman once promised as a mere alliance prize to some horse herder princeling, even if she’d escaped the trap.
“You are still young, though.”
“My tiers lag behind the vanguard, but I hold my own,” she replied, stressing Labyrinth before estates.
“It’s still slightly disturbing that your Gate is so far from the centre of power,” Zhuangjing said, changing topics again.
“Our founding fathers wanted to separate the centre of power from the centre of wealth and commerce. They wanted balance, rather than absolute power. Yet apparently, the Labyrinth knows what is what. This is where it will be.”
“It’s an… interesting opinion.”
“No one can presume on the Labyrinth.”
“That is true,” offered the Princess' companion.
His name was Zhang Bao, Sylvia remembered from files. A relatively low-born, raised to excellence by the virtue of being among the early “heroes” of the Labyrinth. Freshly minted to tier seven as well with an assumed pure defensive build tailored for their Legends.
If anyone had any bad intentions regarding the delegation, he’d be very, very hard to kill, even with Guard units. The best bodyguard, in and out of the Labyrinth.
“Are you interested in theology and the Labyrinth implications,” Sylvia asked him.
“Not that much. I leave that to the scholars,” he replied, chuckling.
Sylvia turned back to the Princess.
“So, what brings the Greatest Hero to our shores? This is a great honour, but one that feels unearned.”
“Our esteemed father, the Great Emperor, has noticed that you have engaged in treaties with your former masters, despite your former disagreements.”
Ah, Sylvia realized. It’s all about the Gate treaty. The United States may not have interfered much with China yet, but the English had for a long time, and the Middle Kingdom was pissed about somebody being potential allies to the British.
“I am not one to discuss those matters, of course. But your Highness probably knows that matters of Earthly alliances are for some to discuss, but matters of Labyrinth power are for the Professionals to discuss.”
The Princess could not avoid throwing her a look of curiosity at the implication.
“If you want to share some Labyrinth-specific anecdotes, I’ll be in my suite after the reception. The best ones have been of course reserved for you and your retinue, but I like my personal one. It is smaller, but it is made to my tastes. If you want to visit?”
“Maybe I will.”
Like hell you will, Sylvia thought as the Princess moved toward the next politician in the reception room. She’d dropped enough hints to bring a bloodhound to the hunt.
The three Chinese were looking at the suite’s decoration, as Sylvia had expected. She’d hastily switched around things to highlight the implications and prompt the reactions she wanted.
“It is an interesting collection you have,” Deng Feng noted.
The healer sported a set of hairpins that seemed of plain lacquer, but his hair shimmered of strange tints changing whenever one looked away. Sylvia wondered for a short while what kind of Legendary guardian would have hairpins as its treasure, before focusing back on the implicit question.
“I like African things. It is one of the last wild places in the world, full of unknown and hidden places. Even our Western continent half has succumbed to explorers.”
Zhuangjing turned her head, obviously intrigued by the allusions.
“It’s always hard to trade with them, of course. You have to wait until they come to you, and they rarely give you what you really want. But it is still a good way to trade at least something.”
“They do come around,” the Princess admitted.
“And so do you. The United States keep watch as it should, with rank 4 or higher Gauge Enemy Professionals across all of his known connections. Yet, here you are, cutting across vast expanses of the Labyrinth by some unknown pathway. Getting your way across many zones is always arduous, but not for the Greatest Hero, obviously.”
The Greatest Hero herself acknowledged the compliment.
“The Middle Kingdom knows the ways of the Labyrinth.”
Sylvia bowed slightly to grant the claim before starting her real dealing.
“I think the Kingdom values gifts. We also trade gifts on occasion.”
“We would, of course, accept any gift granted to us, but we have not brought any to this occasion,” Bao replied instead of his mistress.
“I found gifts of knowledge being the best. For knowledge is the gift you can give and retain at the same time. Thus, those who trade in it are always better off than they were before.”
“There is truth in those words, I think,” Feng noted.
Sylvia noted that the Princess had checked one of the elaborate African masks on display. The Exceptional descriptor would leave little doubt about its real provenance.
“I would offer a gift of power. And if you only have a gift of convenience, well, that is a proper gift of worth anyway.”
“Of convenience, you say?” Zhuangjing asked, turning back to Sylvia.
“Walking across the Labyrinth unhindered is a nice thing to do, but it is not as good as having more power to reach to higher levels of the Labyrinth would be,” Sylvia Underwood said.
“We have power already.”
“Professionals never stop gaining such,” she replied.
She opened her hand. A swirling globe of topaz materialized in the open palm, and she bowed.
“I heard you were on the paths of offensive aether. Here’s a gift for such one. You will undoubtedly have much better, but it is always the respect that counts in those,” she simply said.
The Princess contemplated the globe for a moment. Then Zhan Bao noted, “You practice the arts of magician's entertainment?”
“No. I am merely a Professional, and nothing I do can’t be done by one, or at least one of the right build.”
She twirled the orb again, and the Princess looked, briefly mesmerized by the crystalline reflections of the sphere. The defender started to speak, but she raised her hand, cutting him off.
“We can appreciate one of the trophies of your section of the Labyrinth. So, where did it come from?”
“I keep a pair stored in my Puppet,” Sylvia replied.
Got you, she thought.
The Assistant Secretary looked slightly frazzled. Being subject to unexpected events like that one would do that. He turned to the woman at his side.
“They seem about happy.”
The Chinese had boarded carriages, heading toward the Gate area where Gate Office Secretary Thomson had arrived and prepared an official meeting.
“They are Chinese, Atkinson. If they showed displeasure, they would be really pissed. Like the British in a way. Everything must be proper, dignified, and all that. But I did my part in making them happy, anyway.”
“You did not do anything…”
“No. We just had a talk, and swapped gifts.”
She smiled broadly.
“And you will owe me big time when you'll see what I got you. Even if you have to find people to sweep Machelenso.”
“What do you mean, sweep?”
“I know how they came here unseen.”
“Wait, what do you mean? And what did you give them?”
“Cores.”
“You told them about Cores!!!”
“If they stayed more than a week or two here, they’d hear about it at one point anyway. Too many people know about it already. That secret is leaking like a rotted sieve.”
“And you made your money from it,” the assistant complained.
“You should be thankful I managed to keep enough of those out the British's greedy hands, Atkinson.”
“So, what is it?”
“Well, I suppose I can tell you about it. Have you wondered about why Gates require lairs to be useable?”
She watched his uncomprehending look, repressing an undignified burst of laughing.
“I always get your Office the goods, Atkinson. That’s why you have me on retainer.”
She watched him hurry onto a carriage to follow the delegation, smiling. Once everyone had left the hotel front, the smile was replaced by a look of speculation.