As always when entering the Room in Versailles, Marc Vergnières couldn’t avoid the feeling of unreality that permeated the area. Everything felt flimsy compared to a high-tier Professional… and there were few higher ranks in the whole of the French Dominion than the First Consul himself, Explicit Watchman Napoleon Bonaparte.

As often these days, he found the man busy around maps. For a few years at the beginning of the Dominion of France, the former general had guards with him anywhere he went, being fearful of being taken out by assassins, remnants of the Revolution, or foreign agents, but as levels grew and tiers progressed, there was little cause for this non-sense. For a decade and a half, the only way someone could overpower Napoleon would be another higher-level Professional or an army. He still delved regularly in the Labyrinth, though. The Consul left nothing to chance when it came to his build, and his regular expeditions in the Labyrinth’s high-end lairs were used to fuel a steady growth that few could hope – or be allowed – to match.

Vergnières knew well how to report to the master of the Dominion. The man had little tolerance for nonsense or flowery introductions. So he stopped next to the map table, as the Consul’s head rose and the two other Professional-empowered Maréchals at his side looked at him, slightly irritated to be disturbed in yet another strategic planning session.

“The teams have returned.”

There was no need to elaborate on the teams in question.

“And success?”

“Achieved. They had two full tier-six teams present and looking out for something, but they were not expecting that form of attack in the slightest. The Gatecloser devices performed as advertised. The Gate is shut down,” Vergnières confirmed.

“Not destroyed?”

“No, the structure itself remains indestructible, apparently. But the gate’s surface blew up. There was a massive loss of life apparently. People were torn apart by the Gate… chaotic substance.”

“That is regrettable. The Gate being in London made it easier to get to, and it’s not as if anyone had a choice on where they appeared anyways. So, regrettable… but irrelevant. What matters is that they are now unable to access the Labyrinth, and will be hampered in their advance in technological development and industry. They rushed to modernize their ships, and once they’re strangled of Power Crystal, Europe and the Dominion will no longer have an enemy at its door. It may take a year or two, but they’re now losing the race. Who is going to repair their Gate?”

Vergnières added, “Deschanel’s team report having been able to see the Gate descriptor, though.”

For once, the Tyrant was surprised. This happened rarely these days.

“A descriptor?”

“Indicating that the… transit from Earth to Grailburg is disabled.”

Bonaparte leaned back on his chair.

“Most unexpected. Something for the Academy to speculate about. Those wankers will be thrown in a tizzy. There is so little new about the Labyrinth these days.”

The Tyrant harboured one of his rare smiles. But Vergnières had kept the bad news for last.

“Deschanel himself didn’t make it, though. The Cowen team managed to kill him.”

Napoleon sighed.

“Pity. He’s one of the best ones.”

“They have good interrogators.”

“Interrogating a tier-seven like Jacques is easier said than done,” Napoleon said.