“You seem unsettled, Sir Sims,” Arthur Wellesley said immediately as the Resilient Spellwrangler entered the room.
“I was undergoing Adaptation. Getting to tier four.”
He then bowed in greeting to the four people present. The two Wellesley brothers, representing the War Office and the Under-Secretary of Labyrinth Affairs, he knew. The others…
“Is that a problem?” asked one of the two.
“It is, in their case. Unlike normal Professionals who get improved Professions rather easily, those knights get an additional step that, unfortunately, appears to involve a peculiar form of torture leaving them in near-unimaginable pain for hours,” the Duke explained.
“Oh.”
“Sir Sims, may I introduce you to Sir Thomas Plumer, representing the office of the Lord High Chancellor.”
“Honoured, Sir.”
“And this last gentleman is Edward Cooke, for the Foreign Secretary Lord Castlereagh.”
Jonas had expected a simple briefing, not a meeting with high-ranking members of the Government. This, alone, showed how serious this was taken.
“I, of course, speak for the Secretary of State for War, Lord Liverpool, and my brother Richard represents himself as the Under-Secretary for Labyrinth Affairs.”
“Well, three days from now, I am supposed to meet with the Zulus regarding their internal rebellion. I assume this is still happening?” Jonas asked in preamble.
“Of course. Although, of course, this is slightly unusual in terms of diplomacy. And, assuming this is actually true,” the man from the Foreign Office said.
“What part do you think might be falsified?” Jonas asked.
“Why, all of them. Although I can’t tell what they’d like to achieve exactly by this or that assertion, you cannot discount the possibility that this is a manoeuvre for some ulterior purpose.”
“They could know of trunks by chance like you found out, and your special abilities are not a complete secret, even if the details are not widely known. They could simply build a tall tale about their King. Wild barbarians from Asia and Africa are prone to attribute all kind of supernatural attributes to their rulers. And unless you could get close enough to get that man’s descriptor, you wouldn’t know if he’s some adventurer snookering his kin or something real.”
Jonas hesitated but knew he should say it.
“Actually, it should be easy to check, even without a Professional.”
“Why?”
“They say he’s more than nine feet tall.”
“Well, that one is a very tall tale, I think,” Plumer of the Chancellor office said.
“But one that can be checked. And if he is indeed a Professional with that many Adjustment Milestones, he would be a true giant.”
Richard Wellesley’s eye narrowed.
“And you know that because…”
“Because we six have grown a small bit since we became Professionals.”
“What do you mean, grown?”
Jonas started to explain the small burst of growth, in hand, feet, stature that accompanied every new step of Adjustment.
“All of the bonuses from Adjustments are, well, internal, and most are similar to what normal Professionals could get. But this… It’s like we’re being marked by the Labyrinth… or the Beast. I know the Church of England says Professionals are normal and good people, but the Pope has excommunicated anyone that went in the Labyrinth… If they hear of people changing, we’d be called demons.”
“That is quite unexpected.”
“Most people have met us when we had already grown twice and most of us don’t have close family or many friends from before. Except for Guss Fullmore, and he hasn’t been back in London since he got his last two Adjustments. His cousin didn’t know him that well before, but I think he has started to notice that Guss is nearly two inches taller these days.”
“So… like anything, it is a matter of time until that secret is out in the open.”
“Yes. But that means it would not be surprising if someone with forty-five increases is taller than any man could ever be.”
Cooke stroked his chin in speculation.
“I don’t know if we can get some spy operation. We have to, now that we know the Zulus have a Gate. But that is a foreign continent, and a place all Europeans got kicked out of. Probably even harder than China,” the Foreign Office man said.
“Besides, he might still have many of those Milestones, but obtained them at low tiers,” Richard Wellesley said, looking at Jonas for confirmation.
“If he collected multiple low tier Professions? Probably. But if he was low level, even with large Adaptation… the Zulu rebels would not need our help. Too many Professions mean slower levels, and not enough levels mean you have low vitals. So, he might be impressive with Potentials in the thousands, but he would not be much more powerful than a tier seven or eight. A high tier team could defeat him without any problem.”
“So, you think they’re saying the truth.”
“I don’t see how else it could be. Unless this God-King does not even exist… but they know of Adaptation’s hidden effects, since how else could they guess it increases our size.”
Jonas shrugged.
“Can’t really know. But that’s not for me to say. I’m just a Professional, not a minister.”
The men laughed at the quip.
“You are certainly not ‘just’ a Professional. And you may not be in the government, but you are going to be a negotiator for this one,” Cooke said.
“That’s why I’m here. What do you want me to do there?”
Thomas Plumer started, “They say they are opening a dialogue, right. That’s usually the starting motions prior to negotiating a formal agreement later.”
“Do we want one?” Jonas asked.
“No. Well, not yet. We have Labyrinth-empowered enemies, and we’d welcome one as an ally. But that’s not what they offer. That’s rebels wanting us to help overthrow their King. Supernatural or not.”
“So, the question is, what do they offer us then?”
“Exactly, Sir Sims. Your goal here is to probe what exactly they want, but more importantly, what exactly they can give us. The Zulu admitted he gave the French some devices. Did you know the Potential Gauge used to check for possible Professionals was reverse-engineered from a stolen French version four years ago? And now, we learn that they did not even invent it. No, it was given to them by those Zulus. To help them recruit faster.”
“So, we want that kind of things,” Jonas said.
“Ideally, we’d want technological parity with the French, at least. Even if Wellington assures us it won’t matter for long.”
Both Plumer and Cooke looked toward the Duke.
“My operation should bring the Dominion to his knees. It is unstable, the Tyrant’s own machine. Cut off the head, and it will collapse, and then, we can pick the pieces, enforce peace, and hopefully, take control of the Gate and make sure it cannot be used to fuel their warmongering.”
Plumer laughed.
“I have seen little of what you plan. The Lord Chancellor merely says it’s bold, unpredictable, and maybe the best chance of this decade.”
“I aim to end Napoleon, once and for all. If he was a mere adventurer that had seized France, I’d have defeated him already. But if he has the Labyrinth powers to back him… so do we. And that’s how we will defeat the Dominion, with the help of the Labyrinth. But enough of the future.”
“You’re right,” Cooke said, turning back to Jonas.
“So, here’s your mission. If they are calling upon us, it behoves to them to whet our appetite for that alliance they seek. Ask them to do so. They are the ones who need to prove their goodwill, not England.”
“I guessed as much.”
“You, of course, are not to commit to anything. If they ask for something, you say you will consider it and will give an answer later, without giving anything. I mean, if they are offering us some cheap trinkets they’ve had for a long time, we should not sell the British Isles in return.”
“I do not think that would hold,” Jonas replied with a slight smile.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“You may not be a diplomat, but remember that promising and not delivering is a quick way to sour a negotiation. If they truly simply want to get us to be friends, then friends we will be, for as long as they are friendly. And helpful.”
The rest of the meeting devolved quickly into each of the ministry representatives repeating the same thing, in different ways. Ask for everything, offer nothing but promises. Jonas would have certainly offered nothing on his own, but the instructions made it official.
“Now, I need to be going. The trip across the zone is quick, but it still takes over a day.”
“Good luck, Sir Sims. And we’ll wait for your report,” Richard Wellesley concluded.
The four men waited until the robed Professional left the room before conferring.
“Well, that’s an unexpected problem that young knight sprung on us,” Plumer said.
The Marquess Wellesley shrugged in reply.
“You get used to it. The Labyrinth Affairs have not been boring this last year, I grant you. But what problem?”
“The… demonic proposition. If those six become visibly stranger, this may cause problems. The Archbishop of Canterbury was very close to denouncing the Professionals as marked by the Beast like the Pope later did. Only the fact that George III was getting better from Professional help held him back. But he might have gone against the head of the Church on that.”
“I think you underestimate the popular opinion of Professionals. Most people are either jealous or in awe. But you are right. My Ministry will work with the Lord Chancellor’s office to start a campaign to present them in an even better light than they are. And make people comfortable with the fact that those six are not just Professionals, but the best of them,” Richard Wellesley offered.
“Good,” said Plumer.
The three guests stood and exchanged salutations, before filing out of the Duke’s office. As he was leaving, Richard stopped to ask his younger brother.
“Do you think they are?”
“What?”
“Marked by the Beast.”
“That has been a long-standing theological debate, you know. But no. I think the Labyrinth has rules it can’t break and was faced with a contradiction. And instead of killing them, as it does when you force a beast of burden through the Gate, it did the right thing.”
“Does the Labyrinth think?”
“We do not know. I wonder if anyone knows.”
----------------------------------------
“Well, it’s time,” Ira said as they looked at the wooden room.
The deceptive-looking opening at the end with its climbing spire beckoned. Even with just Jonas, Ira and Guss, the fight with the mushroom guardian upstairs should not be too difficult. Jonas gestured and the trio filed into the exit.
As expected, half-way through the climb, the groaning sounds of wood started and the group hurried before the fissure slammed closed upon them.
The biggest surprise was the guardian room as they entered the lair’s final location. Unlike their first visit, the room was empty, save for its chest.
Compost Heap
Elder Treasure
Common weapon
Requires: Level 66
“Gone?”
“I think our host is already there,” Jonas commented.
As they exited the room and found themselves under the root-like cover of the lair’s area, they found indeed a man waiting outside. His ankle-length boots even looked like they had put down roots into the ground.
He was chewing some kind of herb. Jonas didn’t recognize him, but the man turned around and smiled widely upon seeing them.
“I welcome you, Great Ones. I am Cashile Impi. You have met Zenzele, he is kept busy, he could not make it,” he said, with a heavy accent.
He peeked behind them before adding.
“I was not entirely sure of being in the right place. Could not see where the secret entrance would be. I had to leave, so you could enter. But I swear, I will find it.”
He laughed.
“I was among the ones who swept the zone, ten years ago, when Mhambi Meshindi decided we were strong enough and shared the secret of the trunk zones and ordered us to secure all. Never found anything. Now, I need to think a reason to come back and sweep the zone again, to find which lair I missed.”
“Good luck,” Jonas replied.
“That will be a good hunt. If I can get away with it.”
The man spat the chewball he’d had in his mouth into the distance .
“Have you discussed Zenzele’s words among yourselves? Or your king?” he asked, more serious.
Jonas settled into his representative role.
“We did. Our… king’s council took your words seriously.”
“That is what is hoped. No Professional should take Mhambi Meshindi lightly.”
“But the thing is, he is your King.”
The Zulu straightened, surprised.
“He is not your friend, Englishman.”
“Possibly. But the point is moot for the moment. We are at war with more Labyrinth powers than Africa. The French are at our gates – nearly literally. And China is going against all of our trading places in Asia. There are battles every year for this.”
Jonas waited a few seconds to see if the rebel had a reply to that before pressing on.
“And Zenzele admitted it. You are already allied with those powers. Can the ally of our enemies be our ally?”
Impi made a slightly strained smile.
“Kwazele should be there to talk to you. He is better at this than poor me. But… we are not allies. And neither would we be yours.”
“Then why are we talking?”
“Because you can’t afford to ignore him. You think you can now. Because you’ve never heard of him, and he is slowly absorbing all of the continent, converting the land into a source of his Professionals. And he will go for you piecemeal once he is finished.”
“No. I mean, why are you talking? This King of yours wants to conquer lands for you. Why don’t you conquer those, then?”
Jonas had heard the arguments coming from Zenzele, but he wanted to see what this other Zulu rebel wanted.
“Because Mhambi Meshindi may look like he is Zulu at heart, but he is not. He considers the Labyrinth as the only thing that matters. The Zulus matter to him only as a source of Professionals for his conquest of the world. Maybe it is easy for him. He has no family, no line. But for all of us… what about our family? In my entire village, there’s only me that is Professional. For the God-King, my village doesn’t exist.”
The man was almost spitting in anger before calming down.
“The Chinese have the right saying. He who rides the tiger becomes afraid to dismount. The God-King is a tiger that we are afraid to ride to the end, lest we cannot turn back and be ourselves.”
“You could still conquer all, and then turn on him,” Jonas suggested.
“It would take many decades. Even if what he says about not being able to advance is true… for the true Zulu kingdom to endure would be hard. My family could pass on. My village filled with people who don’t recognize me as kin, only as a Chosen One. All many he recruits now are still grateful like a new-born puppy for the power he grants them.”
“So… you need us foreigners to help before you are outnumbered.”
“That too. It will be easier to deal with Mhambi Meshindi on the field of battle, among enemies, than it will ever be at home. When suddenly, all of his enemies turn on him at the same time, while his own join their forces.”
Cahsile Impi shook his fists in emphasis.
“So, will you join us? You, of all, might be the most powerful force when the time comes. We need many tier eight at least before we can attempt to bring him down, even with our secret weapons, but if Zenzele is right from what he sees, you might be the most powerful in the world in a decade or two.”
Jonas merely shrugged.
“As I said, we are at war right now. But if we do not need to commit right now, we are not opposed to keep talking about how and why we should help you. But, of course, the fact that you helped the French is not something that is in your favour. Did… did you actually give them the devices to close the Gate?”
That question was why Jonas had carefully avoided bringing everyone – and notably Jonathan – to this meeting.
“It is of no great importance for what the French intended it to use. Even Mhambi Meshindi does not consider it as dangerous. He was merely amused that one of our own could invent such. If you are not aware, the Gates will repair and reconnect of their own, no matter what.”
“The French attack on our Gate killed many.”
“In war, many fall. That is the fault of your enemies, not of our devices.”
Jonas didn’t press that angle. That wasn’t why he was there.
“Still, if you want us to help you in your endeavours… we need tangible proof that this partnership will benefit us.”
The Zulu laughed a little.
“It’s said that the French drove a hard bargain. It looks like you are not too dissimilar. So, you want weapons and devices?”
“Well, we are not the French. But if we are to help, we could use some of that hidden knowledge of the Labyrinth your God-King gives you. You said he told you about the trunks’ existence once you were strong enough. What else did he tell you that few of the Labyrinth would know, I wonder?”
Impi’s eyebrows scrunched a bit, as he pondered Jonas's request.
“Well, there are hidden ways of getting more powers, even if you are a normal Professional. Once you can deal with a Legend…”
Guss laughed at the remark, drawing the regard of the Zulu. He raised his hand and an emerald sphere with gold sparks materialized in it. The rebel looked at it for a second before laughing.
“Of course, as Great Ones, you would know about that.”
Jonas smiled back.
“The powers we share with your God-King do help us. But we are not at his level. And we know his Milestones yield insights on the ways of the Labyrinth.”
“Well, he says this is, but one of the unique powers one can get from the Labyrinth’s Legends. But… the other is not one any of us can do. It comes at level 1500 for a Professional, or so he says.”
The three Adapted Professionals exchanged looks.
“What does that mean?”
“None do know. He says we will know when we can achieve it. And given that a 1500 Legend would pretty much mean a tier eight or maybe nine one, it is not something we can achieve for many decades.”
The Zulu immediately added.
“But maybe you can. That, I cannot say.”
“That’s a nice titbit. But what use is it if it cannot be even verified until, well, after your God-King is defeated? I am not representing my team, but the entirety of England. What you bring should benefit our country.”
The Zulu hesitated, before muttering a short sentence in his own language. Jonas could not understand it, but if he were to guess, it was a prayer to whatever gods the African had. Or a curse on the foreigners.
“Kwazele would be the one who can offer you things. I am not a negotiator. I am merely a messenger among the true Zulus.”
“Then ask Kwazele to provide more proof of the Zulus’ goodwill.”
“That, I will. I know… I will ask him. You use the crystals that empower things, do you? Do you know how to repair them when they start wearing out? I know we replace them and bring them to the Labyrinth, but I do not how it is done, exactly.”
Now, that was what the government would like to know, Jonas thought.
“That would be interesting to know. Especially if you haven’t told the French,” he replied.
“Then I will tell him you asked about it. In return… we know you are slightly behind the other great kingdoms in power, but not how… behind. I think Kwazele will want to know how far you are. You do not have Mhambi Meshindi. He opens the Plaza trunks for his True Chosen, which makes our progress a bit easier at higher tiers. But if you have clear paths for your Professionals, then you can catch up, a little bit.”
“I have no idea how the rest of Britain is, but I will ask.”
“Then that will be a good and fruitful discussion when we meet again. We do not dare to attract too much attention, so that will be in five moons, no sooner.”
Jonas tried to translate that in his head. That led to… the end of January. Next year.
“Here again, then?”
“Here again,” the Zulu confirmed.
“And hopefully, with a more fruitful exchange.”
“To the midwinter moon, then,” Impi said, as rainbow lights started to swirl around his figure.
Once the Zulu was gone, Jonas finally exhaled a deep breath.
“I hope that next time, the government sends someone else to deal with them. Show them that we are also many.”
Ira clapped him on his shoulder.
“I thought you did well. No immediately useful information, but it is still a start. They probably don’t want to give everything immediately, if they want to maintain an alliance until we have tier eight running around. But that thing with Crystals should be good stuff.”
“It still requires Labyrinth access, he thinks. Not as good as keeping them running forever but still better than slowly developing cracks and having to split them for lesser use,” Guss said.
“I hope Marquess Wellesley will like that, even if it is a promise. But that is if they will still talk to us. I do not want to be the one to face them that next time after we defeated their other ‘ally’,” Jonas replied.
“Oh. Sure. Might be mighty awkward,” Ira said.
“Now let’s Recall. Got my report to give, and then, we have you and Jonathan to advance.”
Guss ducked immediately into the depth under the roots. Jonas called after him.
“What are you doing?”
“Picking the weapon before we go, since Laura’s not there. She’d berate me for a day if she learned I left something in a chest. Even if we did not fight it!”