Calculating Tactician Charlotte, Princess of Wales, was bored. It was not an uncommon state for her. She had been bored almost all her life, the result of a smothering gaggle of people trying to make sure nothing happened to the heir of the British Crown, and the endless warring of her father against her mother – with her as a pawn in the game.

Then, as her birthday present at 15, she visited the largest wonder of her life, the Great Gilded Gate behind grandma’s old house, asked if she could touch the great loop of metal, and found herself on a marble plaza under a blue sky instead of the freezing overcast of London.

The two usual guardsmen at the Plaza nearly had a stroke when they realized who had dropped unexpectedly in their lap. And Charlotte Augusta Wales – per the Professional descriptor – finally found something she was interested in.

All of which made the latest months a frustrating experience, as if her father – and now also her grandfather – manoeuvred to keep her away from the love of her life, the Labyrinth.

There was an increasing pressure on her to “retire”, as “insurance” against “mishap”. But she could easily guess what went behind the façade. Almost none of grandpa's – George III – children had any legitimate issue. Two of her uncles had children, but their marriage had been annulled – or never happened. She was the only heir of her generation… and likely the only one that there would ever be.

It wasn’t her going into the Labyrinth they objected to. It was her being the last of her line, despite being only 22. Well, 23 as of today.

So, there was a large party, in a castle safely far from the Gilded Gate, and the remnants of the royalty from across Europe, at least those who had escaped the clutches of Bonaparte, were gathered to celebrate her birthday and try to remind themselves of their lost kingdoms.

She went on to sip her champagne – smuggled at high cost from France – and make small chat with the various nobility, continental and otherwise. Father had, again, thrown a feast he could like. Getting Grandpa to pay.

“Ah, Charlotte. Come here,” George August Frederick, heir to the Crown, said.

He looked relatively self-satisfied. No doubt, the absence of her mother, usually barred from these kinds of celebrations. She would try to have a small, private one, with her later.

“The royals of Sweden made it,” he said as an introduction, sweeping to present the older woman and the two younger men and women along with her.

“Queen Frederica,” he said first.

Charlotte bowed slightly to acknowledge the – former – queen of Sweden.

“I am saddened to know your husband couldn’t escape.”

“He wouldn’t have. That was his realm, after all. Your people are trying to check to see if the Tyrant did indeed imprison him in the Village.”

“He tends to do that rather than outright execute people. He does not hesitate if you rise against him, but not if you were not one of his subjects,” she reassured the woman.

She turned and included the other two in the presentation.

“My two eldest, Sophie and Gustav. My younger, Cecilia, was not quite well and couldn’t come.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“No. Besides, we had one of the Labyrinth… Menders?… come and make her better, just in case.”

Charlotte bowed to the younger woman, Sophie, who curtsied lightly and then to the Prince and presumptive heir of the crown of Sweden – should it get liberated from the clutches of Bonaparte one day. The prince surprised her by pushing his wrist forward. Another fan of the Labyrinth then.

Gustav Gustafsson

Health: 208/208

Mind: 159/159

Endurance: 166/166

Aether: 163/163

Effective level: 3

Level 3 Defender

Experience: 317/3000

Strength: 15

Dexterity: 14

Agility: 16

Constitution: 19

Stamina: 16

Wisdom: 17

Focus: 16

Presence: 14

Fortitude: 15

Intellect: 16

Defence rating: 0

Milestones: none

Skills: Dodge (0), Anticipate (0), Hold (0)

Equipment: none

“Oh.”

“Yes. Prince Gustav got someone to scan for Potentials and was quite surprised to learn he had such a high Constitution. But he hasn’t spent much time in the Labyrinth yet, just a few lessons. Maybe you can give him a few tips,” Charlotte’s father said.

She watched him drag away the two Swedish women, looking simultaneously rotund… and satisfied.

“Gee. I wonder why he wanted us to meet,” she said, sarcastically.

“I could hazard three guesses, but I think the first two don’t count,” the Defender replied, almost in apology.

She turned back to the young man, shrugging.

“So, you got a Profession.”

“Well, it came at a high price. I probably wouldn’t have come to England for a long time, if ever, unless we had to run away. With the help of your ships, a fact of which I am quite happy, though.”

“Level three, though?”

“Someone came to teach me some basics, but nothing more. I even have a set of basic equipment, which I still think looks silly,” he replied.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it,” she said, offering her arm to circulate along with her.

At least, she could try to see if the dastardly crown plot had a chance of succeeding.

A bit too serious, maybe.