The entrance to the Village was a slightly narrow band of pavement crossing over the ditches and spikes surrounding it. Jonas and many other Professionals wasted no time crossing it. A few curious faces had turned toward them as they spread across the buildings.

Jonas came to a low-lying tiny cottage and knocked respectfully. There was no immediate answer, but the door wasn’t locked or anything, so he entered and looked around.

He spotted a man seated at a desk. The man turned, and spoke, in an interrogative manner, “Wem är du?”

“Jonas Sims, English. We’ve come to free you… if you can understand me?”

“Jag förstår inte vad du sager,” replied the man.

Jonas grimaced.

A woman’s head popped through the door.

“Han säger att vi har kommit för dig,” she said, in the same rhythmic syllables.

“You can speak his language?”

“I’ve learned Swedish. I told him we were coming to help him. I think… that might be Gustav Adolf. His Highness’s father.”

The Swedish king rose, looking interrogative. The woman turned back to him, “Komma. Vi måste ta dig härifrån.”

Upon the invitation, the man hesitated for a second, looking at his cluttered desk. Then, he straightened, grabbed a single journal which he shoved in his pocket and joined them.

Once outside, the woman – Light Tactician Evelyn Nagle, based on the proximity appearance on the team descriptor – started escorting the King toward the Village exit. Before they moved out, Jonas called out.

“Tell him his son is now Prince-Consort of England!”

She laughed before speaking some words. The Swede’s head turned toward Jonas interrogatively, then back toward Nagle, before bowing slightly and start jogging toward the exit.

Jonas ducked into another cottage, to be greeted by a woman who immediately gathered a young child to her, screaming at him in some other language. It sounded a bit like English, but completely different. German, maybe? Jonas grimaced, then raised his hands in a gesture he hoped would be reassuring. He then quickly indicated the exit, trying to convey a question on whether or not there were others in the small housing.

The woman and child both looked at him dubiously as he held the door open, hurrying them out. As they came out and spotted the various Professionals ushering people, she gasped, looked at him, and started running, dragging the boy with her.

Ira, Jonathan and Guss came out from around the house, stopping near him.

“Let’s make sure we haven’t missed anyone.”

They split again, running into various cottages, as more Professionals were bringing out bedazzled people. Jonas ducked back into the cottage where he’d found the German-sounding woman, making sure there was nobody else left there.

Then, they were going out toward the Village’s exit. The team crossed the main exit across the moats and barriers and found a dozen large carriages, waiting next to the forest.

Other Professionals were hurrying – in some cases trying to help older people – into the covered vehicles. Thorebourne was trying to direct people all around.

“Okay, everyone, we must not tarry for long. If the French manage to counter-attack, they will target our rescuees first. Let’s get going!”

The Professionals gathered back around Thorebourne.

“I think we’re done there. Objective achieved. Nagle, you have your orders.”

The Professional saluted quickly, and she and her team turned and rushed toward the carriages. The small caravan was already starting toward the road into the forest, leading out into the woods northwest of Versailles.

“Now, that was the easy part, with overwhelming force and higher levels overall. For us, time to get back to the Gate area and make sure it remains secure.”

There were more than a handful of Professionals gathered around the Gate. Jonas noticed both Laura and Alton to the side, sprawled across the green. It felt like a sacrilege still, but they weren’t there to visit the gardens, after all.

Of more interest was the familiar figure with her lightning two-hander.

“Imposing Knight, you’re okay?”

“Sort of, Sims. Got Deschanel, at least. So that’s something,” she said, pointing at a line of corpses set aside next to the Gate.

“At least?” Jonas asked, surprised.

“Napoleon escaped.”

“Wait, he got away?”

“No. He wasn’t even there to begin with. We missed him,” she said, looking dejected.

Jonas was going to ask for a clarification when Jack Millard arrived from the Chateau, running with a large pack of British Professionals. The Scout’s leader noticed the arriving secondary troops and slowed down next to the Great Gate.

“All cleared now. But, well we failed,” he said.

“What do you mean, you failed? You’re there,” Thorebourne replied.

“We're there because there wasn’t anyone home. That’s not something our spies could have found out, I think.”

“The Tyrant wasn’t there? The bugger is away?” Thorebourne asked.

“Yes. He and most of his high tiers are all on a multiple Legend hunt and experience run. The Professional I interrogated said he wasn’t expected back for a few weeks, but I’m not sure we can trust that information.”

“What are the odds that none of his entourage will notice the lack of Recall?” one of the Professionals said.

Millard made a grimace before swearing again.

“Balls.”

“Can we catch him?”

“He’ll be careful. And besides, if we have a full raid of every upper tier-six and seven smashing on us in a coordinated assault, the outcome is not assured. It’s a completely different proposition than catching them piecemeal with a surprise attack,” Millard acknowledged.

All the assembled Professionals started to mutter. Thorebourne merely shrugged before turning to the other leader.

“Go with the flow. Nothing ever happens as it should. It’s your call.”

“If the Tyrant makes his way back and joins with his armies, we may lose all. Can we hold the Gate?” a defender asked.

“Time for the fallback plan?” the Observer asked pointedly.

Millard hesitated for a few seconds, before snapping his fingers, having achieved a decision.

“Pull out the Gatebreakers.”

Jonas started. By the looks, a lot of the assembled Professionals had not expected that either.

“At least, Napoleon is in the Labyrinth. We can lock the Gate, and try to keep him away until the situation is secure on this side,” Millard explained.

“But how do we get away?” a Professional asked.

“Not much choice. If he can’t get out, we can’t get in, but that's the deal.”

Jonas advanced.

“No. We close the Gate from within,” he said.

Millard turned to him, interrogative.

“Even if you destabilize the Gate, the matching Gate is still useable as an origin or destination for Fast Travel. That's how it worked at Gatepost.”

Thorebourne’s bearded face split into a huge smile, as he understood the basic idea.

“And you can’t Fast Travel to Earth. But you can away from Earth,” he said, wonderingly.

Jonas shrugged. Who knew if that applied with the special Core’s extra tier-less Gates. But none of the French would have that. Or at best if they knew about Cores, one or two of them might, tops, and that's if they had acquired the Gate.

“So if we close the Gate from Argenmart, the French are still cut from Earth. But anyone staying here can evacuate if necessary. And even if the French retake it, they can go into the Labyrinth, but not out.”

Thorebourne slapped Jonas in the back in approval.

“Good thinking, Sims.”

Millard turned back.

“Okay, we keep a major guard here. I want only volunteers, nobody below tier six. I want you to be able to survive a retreat in the worst case. You are to keep the Gate area secure against the French until the army arrives. Nobody goes in to tell Napoleon what happened. And then coordinate with the army generals once they're there. Nothing else.”

Fists rose, as twenty Professionals stepped forward.

“Good luck everyone. The rest of you, retreat to Argenmart, to relieve our rear guard. Thorebourne, you’ll be in charge there.”

“You go, Ringmaster. I can remember my old training and take charge of this…” he stopped himself before adding the last word.

The tier seven Professional smiled at the half-completed joke before saluting.

“See you in London once you finish taking over the city.”

“See you. If we’re not relieved in four days, we’ll evacuate.”

The Professionals started streaming into the Great Gilded Gate. Jonas turned briefly, watching the seemingly peaceful gardens of the Chateau. The last blot in the sky, marking the departure of the skyship fleet, was again barely visible.

The army was a few days away. Hopefully… well, the Tyrant would have nothing to come back to. Jonas wondered briefly if he would. The British would probably dump him in some tiny island somewhere in the Atlantic, far from any Gate.

The spectacle on the other side of the Gate was still impressive in its chaos. Most of the Professionals were milling around, but a handful of them were slowly dragging away the stone sculpture of the Recall Stone toward the Gate. Jonas immediately realized it did not make sense to let the French restore a Recall next to the Gate. More chaos, if they retook the position once it was evacuated…

To the side, Jonas spotted a group of Professionals with heavy bags, unpacking bronze contraptions. Even a year later, the sight of what was obviously Gatebreakers brought chills. The English versions seemed bulkier than the French ones had been, but the resemblance was obvious. He then noticed a figure being fitted and hurried.

“Jonathan?”

“I need to do this. I can’t let the French get away with it.”

His words devolved in a small muttering, barely audible.

“Of all the things to do, escape. Even if they got Deschanel without me…”

Jonas slapped him on the shoulder in solidarity. Many a Professional remembered the assault, but Jonathan, of all of the team, was the one who had experienced it directly, personally, in all of its cruelty.

The three Professionals strapped with the heavy-looking bronze-and-crystal sleeve on their arms stepped forward, readying their aim.

“Wait for a second,” Millard shouted before they could fire.

“All those who got their Recall reset, Fast Travel, right now. Before we disable this. The rest of us can Recall and then go back to Gatepost if necessary, but you can’t. No need to make you run all the way to the Brocarres Gate. It’s too dangerous to go alone.”

Two Professionals startled, then ran into the Gate. Jonas assumed the other three would be on the other side, standing guard. A few more hesitated, before running into the Gate as well. Despite the lack of orders, Millard didn’t stop them. If people wanted to shortcut the Recall and immediately travel to Grailburg, so be it.

“Okay, let’s bring this down.”

The three Gatebreaking Professionals raised their arms and squeezed the handles on the devices. Three bars of green appeared, bearing down into the Gate’s surface which immediately started to sway. Jonas remembered that sight very well.

What he did not remember was the massive pulses of green force coming back and forth across the beams at incredible speed, nor the massive screaming that pierced everyone’s ears. He covered his ears, but the sound seemed to occupy the entire world, resonating inside his own head.

A handful of Professionals stepped back, obviously disturbed by the interplay of forces across the Gate, whose surface seemed to host a storm to rival the worst of the Atlantic.

Transit: Argenmart - Eąŕtĥ 1 13

Integrity: 49%

Overload – Emergency Dispersal

Stability: 4%

The Gate blow-up was blinding and a wave smashed Jonas to the ground. He quickly recovered and saw that most of the Professionals had been bowled over.

Jonathan and one of the other Professionals were trying to unlock the Gatecrashers who were pouring oily smoke. The two devices finally fell on the ground, small sparks sputtering.

“That was a bit faster than I remember. And more intense,” Ira’s voice came from behind him.

Cowen had been watching, like most of the guarding force. The Gate area suddenly flashed brightly for an instant before settling, as she remembered people telling her about it when it had happened at Gatepost. And the Gate descriptor appeared as if it had always been there. Which, she supposed, was the case for some people.

Transit: Earth 113 - Argenmart

Integrity: 100%

Disabled

Stability: 100%

“And it’s done,” she smiled.

She turned back to survey the garden when one of the other Professionals raised her voice.

“Uh, boss?”

Thorebourne turned.

“I was checking for Fast Travel, to make sure it worked… and there’s a weird part on the location descriptor.”

Cowen’s eyebrows reflexively rose in confusion as she looked on her own descriptor.

Location

Zone: Earth

Locale: Gate to Argenmart

Recall: Todrastea, Gate to Biskanta

Recall: ready, enter the Labyrinth

Gates: 6/6

Tier 1: Grailburg

Tier 2: Donerkal

Tier 3: Markandon (disabled)

Tier 4: Davelsano

Tier 5: Sarmasios

Tier 6: Caernastur

Fast travel: 2 charges, 16 days until next

“I have the internal trunk Gate between Szinkal and Donerkal that now says ‘disabled’ on my descriptor. And it can’t be selected as a destination,” the caster continued. “Do you have any idea how that happened?”

As others started checking their location descriptor, muttering rose.