Jonas had been still feeling slightly unsteady when he climbed in the closed carriage. They’d rushed back once he recovered enough to use Recall without flinching at activating a descriptor, and found his escort waiting at the War Department.

Physically, he was fine. But Adaptation V left its mark internally, even if the pain was gone and its memory being slowly blotted out by one’s mind.

The Duke had not been joking at having people to help him. There was a young cavalry lieutenant waiting, helping him to climb into the waiting vehicle. It was a horseless carriage, no horses.

“Lieutenant Bollen, at your service, Sir Sims,” he said, offering his wrist.

Jonas clasped it reflexively and was surprised by the lack of a descriptor. But then, he and Ira had been using that greeting since they were kids, despite not being Professionals.

“No baggage, Sir?”

Jonas made a negative sign, then sank on his seat. He threw a look outside, to the curb where the team was watching him off. That felt strange, knowing he wouldn’t see them for weeks… maybe months. In the months following the change, these five had become a kind of family. People you lived along, fought along, suffered along… and even, twice now for him, died along.

The carriage sped up, heading toward the bridge into Waterloo, which Jonas hadn’t seen since… well, since he’d been still an apprentice leatherworker there. He’d abandoned everything there, not that he’d had much in the way of possessions.

Jonas looked at his companion, who had settled in his part of the carriage with a stoic face.

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to be a great companion, I think.”

“It’s okay, Sir,” the lieutenant replied noncommittally.

Jonas could still see Bollen trying not to ask any questions. The cavalry lieutenant took his look as an encouragement, though.

“Problems, Sir?”

“Special ones, yes.”

“Professional stuff, I surmise.”

“Even for Professionals. Don’t worry, it will go away. I’m just not good company for a while.”

“Well, then, we’ll wait until Portsmouth. We should be there this evening. Horseless carriages work much faster than old-style coaches, and the weather is holding.”

Jonas looked outside, as they were crossing the bridge. The lieutenant was right so far, and the sky was covered by clouds but despite the cold, no rain or snow seemed to have materialized in this late autumn. Then he realized that it was already December this week… and Christmas two and a half week away. He would be still at sea. Or maybe even in the Colonies, if delays piled, and not be back until next year. He shivered a bit at the prospect.

Jonas forced himself to warm up a bit. It wasn’t the lieutenant’s fault that he wanted to pick his tier three and went into Adaptation today, after all.

“Sounds good. I’ve never been out of London before. Well, if you do not count the Labyrinth, that is.”

Bollen smiled a bit at the quip. Then he settled back in his seat, letting Jonas keep the initiative. But Jonas could feel like he had questions he was not going to ask.

“So, Lieutenant, what are you supposed to do? Besides trying to make chat with a Professional, that is.”

Bollen hesitated a bit, then started with a remark.

“You don’t really look like what I expected.”

“Oh? What would you expect? Besides a robed spellcasting Professional, or whatever they told you would be there, that is?” Jonas asked.

“No, they did tell me I was attached to one of the Heroes of the Labyrinth. It's just that... well, you don’t look like the drawings, Sir.”

“Drawings?”

“Yes. There have been illustrations.”

“Really?”

Jonas was surprised to see the lieutenant pull out a newspaper. He noticed its masthead – The Observer – and saw a title about “The most highly distinguished Professionals”. Bollen slid the journal toward him, and Jonas spotted the edition of over three weeks ago. Had the man kept the newspaper all this time?

The article had a large illustration filling nearly half of the front page, depicting a group of six people sitting in a large carriage. Jonas blinked, unbelieving. He assumed that the woman – a bit too portly from what he saw – was Laura, and he guessed that Guss would be the one with the goat-headed stick – it’s a boar head, not a goat, dammit – and the other man in the monk robe was… well, supposed to be him.

“Did that… person even see us before drawing?” he asked, with incredulity imparted on every word.

“I would have assumed so, but now I think not,” the lieutenant replied, somewhat apologetic.

“Can’t fault you for assuming that was a proper illustration, but… if I had known, I would have protested about this,” Jonas finally said.

“It’s the newspapers, Sir. Can’t expect them to get all the fine details right,” the lieutenant replied more lightly.

Finding himself slowly warming to the conversation, Jonas went back to his original question.

“What’s coming ahead next, I mean? Are you just escorting me to Portsmouth, or coming to the Americas as well?”

“The latter, Sir,” Bollen replied. “The War Department readied a staff with me and two ensigns to make sure everything goes as well as possible for… whatever you’re supposed to do there.”

Jonas could feel surprised at this. Not telling the Americans what he was looking for sounded plausible, but his own staff?

“Did they tell you it’s a secret mission?”

“No Sir. It’s just that the colonel didn’t know, and nobody seemed to. I hear the orders come from the ministry staff, but nobody gave any specific details.”

“Well, the Duke – my boss – didn’t tell me to keep it secret. But if he didn’t want to share…”

“Then maybe it should remain confidential. Whatever that is,” the lieutenant said.

“It’s just a visit. I am supposed to have a look, obtain some specific Labyrinth information, and report.”

“Well, whatever it is you need to do, Sir, I and the staff will be ready to help if we can.”

Jonas threw a look outside. The houses and buildings had become sparse, and one could see fields. Even a flock of sheep. They had not seen sheep in the Labyrinth. At least not yet – who knew what variation of mundane animals the Labyrinth could make.

Then he settled back, pulled out one of the books on aetherists builds that the Archives had lent him, and started to distract himself as the carriage slowly sped up toward the southwest and the naval base at Portsmouth.

Lieutenant Bollen was spending far too much time talking with the guards at the port’s gates, Jonas felt. The guards had been miffed at being disturbed this late. Rain had finally caught up to the carriage, against the lieutenant's initial hopes and night had fallen hours ago, but the carriage had Powered lighting and kept on, until they had finally reached Portsmouth, only to find sleepy guards huddled against the elements in their shacks.

When the cavalry officer climbed back aboard, he reported immediately.

“Nobody knows anything, of course. They don’t think we’ll ship tonight, the tide’s not right. So we’re supposed to enquire at the admiralty. I presume.”

“Never been to Portsmouth?”

“No, Sir. I’m cavalry, not Navy. We haven’t been deployed overseas or anything. But the driver knows the port, he says.”

“Then let’s find this admiralty.”

“Your room, Sir. Breakfast will be at 7,” the port attendant said, as he showed Jonas the bedroom.

The room was tiny, with a single, very narrow bed. That, more than anything else, impressed on Jonas the fact that he was alone in a distant town. No one of his team was around. And pretty soon, he would even go further away… if you discounted the Labyrinth, as he had told Bollen.

Jonas dropped his dinner – the classic navy sandwich meat and bread that was apparently all the admiralty staff had at hand at this late hour – on the small bed table and his bag to the side.

He contemplated his position and wondered why he’d accepted that mission. Not that there was really a choice, after all.

He nibbled on the food, then sighed. He blew out the oil lamp and settled on the slightly too-small bed, and tried to sleep. For a long time, the darkness remained around him, with only the usual flickering of status, barely registering “tiredness” before vanishing again.

Then, after more time, it was morning.

Jonas found himself greeted by Bollen and two other people in cavalry uniforms. The lieutenant introduced them as Ensign Ahern and Manning, respectively. The other two additions to Jonas’ staff. Jonas had no idea whatsoever on what he would need that staff for.

“Any information?” he asked after drawing the bowl of porridge and a few slices of bread – fresh one for a surprise.

“We are supposed to take passage on the HMS Northwind. It’s a small modern sloop-of-war, whatever it is supposed to be,” the lieutenant said.

“And where is this Northwind ship?” Jonas asked further.

“Moored at the westernmost quay, it seems. The ship will sail at noon supposedly. So we have some time, but we should not tarry around,” Bollen replied.

“Well, I do not have anything to do here,” Jonas remarked, looking at his cavalry staff.

The ensigns made various negation signs, and the lieutenant concluded, “Then once breakfast is done, we should bring our luggage on board and see what the captain has to say.”

Jonas was almost tempted to help his travelling companions. Each of them was carrying a semi-large travelling chest, where he only had his basic Professional carry bag. He might not have Laura’s insane Strength, but he still had 35, more than twice the average man would have, so whatever they were carrying, he could assuredly help. But… well, pushing out his Professional status might not be the most astute behaviour. All men had their pride, after all, and there was no reason to make them feel inadequate. It was still extremely overcast, but the rain that had accompanied them to Portsmouth yesterday had ended for the moment.

They found the ship rather easily. The name Northwind featured in bold and shining letters on the side. Jonas had no idea about what to expect from their Atlantic transportation, but the so-called small sloop seemed relatively large sized. It might not be able to carry armies or large cargo, but it did look fairly good to his inexpert eye.

Bollen climbed the boarding ramp, enquired from the sailor manning its end, then quickly came back to announce that they were indeed expected.

“That’s the right ship. Sets out in two hours. The captain is being notified, but we can come aboard.”

“Good. Let’s go then,” Jonas replied.

They all started to climb the ramp just as a carriage full of barrels stopped next to the ship, to grunts of “make way!”. Jonas sidestepped as a pair of sailors narrowly missed him, running back down.

“Filling up stores?” he asked.

“I presume. I’m not familiar with naval operations,” the lieutenant said as they waited for the captain of the Northwind to come on top.