Dreamer's Throne

The rest of the day passed quietly as Garrett monitored the situation, keeping track of the citizens, who were slowly beginning to go back to their normal routines, and the various gangs in the area. He paid close attention to Cynen as she took command of the remnants of the Grave Walkers and organized her gang members to sweep the graveyard, looking for any undead still hiding out. That night, as the dream opened up to him once more, he found the awakened dreamers gathering in Dreamer's Rest. He tasked them with exploring the territory between the Klein family and the Grave Walker's territory, intending to bring it under his control, though this would take a considerable amount of time. After leaving them to get started, Garrett returned to the Dreamer's Throne. He took his seat and let his mind connect with his territory.

In addition to the inn, Dreamer's Rest, which was the dream territory he controlled, he could feel on the edge of his consciousness another space. He recognized it as the first tomb. It was curious to him, as it didn't appear that his territory included anything between the two locations. They were almost like command posts from which he could send out his forces to slowly gather more territory. In the city above ground, the awakened dreamers had needed to clear the territory around the inn before it fell under his control. He realized that he was going to have to do the same thing down below.

After thinking for a moment, he sent out a command to Somnia, the Overlord Flower. A moment later, he felt a light ping alerting him to the location of Delrisa. Using what he had learned from Agma-Yoth, Garrett reached for the cold star that was her mind and tugged it slightly. A moment later, she was standing before him. In reality, he knew that she was actually crouched in a small hole dug in the wall of one of the crypts where she was resting. But through the power of the dream, they now stood facing each other.

The location he chose was the throne room in the first tomb where he had previously faced Agma-Yoth. But instead of the obsidian coffin and the knocked-over throne, he created a replica of the dreamer's throne and sat himself in it. His white mask was on his face and a faint crown made of bone and flame rested on his head. Delrisa appeared below, and as soon as she saw him, she hurriedly bowed.

"My lord," she said, her voice sweet.

Garrett's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he resisted the pull of her words, though he knew that she wasn't intentionally trying to charm him.

"Control your voice," he said. "It's annoying to hear."

"Yes, my lord," Delrisa said, doing her best to blunt her naturally seductive tone.

"You have done well," Garrett said. "Stand."

As she rose to her feet, he continued, "Thanks to you, the majority of the necromancers of the Dark Hand have been killed, and your work with Paskal was excellent as well. I'm very pleased with your service so far."

Delrisa's eyes glowed with excitement at the praise, and she quickly bowed her head once more.

"I'm happy to serve," she said.

To his surprise, Garrett realized that she was actually telling the truth. It wasn't simply a matter of the flower that bloomed in her soul spark, either. He could sense the goodwill produced by the flower, but her words came from a deeper place of conviction. And when her eyes flickered to the crown on his head, he realized what was happening. The new ability he had gotten, Skeletal Crown, granted him Lesrak's authority over Undead, and it was clear that Delrisa was responding naturally to it. Mixed in was a deep sense of gratitude that Garrett could only assume came from the fact that he had freed the vampire from Agma-Yoth's control, granting her her free will back, at least to a limited degree.

"I have another task for you," he said, and she straightened up, eager to hear it. "I want you to hunt down the remaining necromancers. There were some who slipped away from the battle, and many who never emerged to the surface, as they were engaged in a fight under the city. I want you to hunt them down and eliminate them, wiping the Dark Hand out for good."

He thought it was a fairly simple command, one that she would eagerly carry out, but to his surprise, Delrisa's brow furrowed. He rested his chin on his arm as he stared down at her, noting that she didn't immediately agree.

"Is something the matter with that command?" he asked, his voice cold.

"No, my lord," she said slowly. "I just wonder if they may be more use to us alive than dead."

Garrett's first impulse was to shut down her line of thinking immediately. He had no desire to collaborate with necromancers, and would gladly see every single one of them wiped from the face of the earth, or at the very least driven out of the city. But he held his tongue and gestured for her to continue, wanting at least to hear her explanation. Granted permission to speak, Delrisa appeared gratified as she explained her thoughts.

“My lord, now that the first tomb is yours, there are things you should know about it. The most important is that it produces a constant stream of undead. Life energy here is thick, and over time it builds up, transforming into undead who will begin to roam the halls. Eventually, when there are too many of them, they will spill over, expanding into the crypts under the city. The more time that passes, the greater their numbers will be, and eventually they will begin to emerge into the city once more. This is the true cause of Lesrak's March."

Sitting up, Garrett leaned forward.

"You speak of the Cauldron of Souls," he said, causing Delrisa to nod.

"I do. Should you remain on the throne, my lord, you should be able to control the undead who emerge."

She paused, and Garrett realized the problem she was implying.

"And if I'm not here, in the first tomb?" he asked.

"Then we will need people to manage them," she said, "or they will once again rise up to overrun the city."

Grimacing under his mask, Garrett leaned back in the throne, mulling over the problem that she was speaking of and thinking about possible solutions. He could easily see what she was driving at, and as much as he hated to admit it, she likely had a point. If it was true that the creation of undead was automatic because of the Cauldron of Souls, then it was a threat that he couldn't simply ignore. Being able to destroy the Cauldron of Souls was unlikely, and he had a sneaking suspicion that even if he managed to do so, new problems would crop up.

In fact, he could sense the density of the death energy in the first tomb was constantly growing, and it was clear that the Cauldron of Souls was a way of siphoning it off. Even if they could stop the creation of undead, it was likely that they would have a bigger problem, and eventually the death energy would build up to the point where it would flood out into the city, creating an unmitigated disaster in the process.

"You wish to gather the Dark Hand and use them to control the undead that mass here?"

"Yes, my lord," Delrisa said, her voice surprisingly nervous.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Garrett thought it over and then nodded.

"Fine, but each necromancer who agrees must come before me and submit," he said. "Those that don't will be killed without exception. You will be tasked with leading this group, and get rid of the name Dark Hand. I don't want to have any ties to that organization."

Slowly, a wide smile crept across Delrisa's lips, and she bowed once more.

"Of course, my lord. I will carry out your commands perfectly."

"See that you do," Garrett replied, and waved his hand, sending her out of the dream space.

He sat for a moment, his mind churning with various thoughts. It was clear that he had not just inherited power, but had inherited the responsibility that came with it. Reaching up, he took his mask from his face and let out a deep sigh.

"The flower ghouls were bad enough," he said, speaking into the empty air. "But now I seem to have adopted a vampire and a pile of necromancers."

After organizing a group of flower ghouls to assist Delrisa in her hunt for the elusive necromancers, Garrett spent the remainder of the night strategizing. His unexpected growth following his victory over Agma-Yoth in the Ruler's War had granted him an unforeseen flexibility in his abilities. The following morning, as he sat down to breakfast with Ryn and Obe, the clatter of metal boots outside the inn signaled impending trouble. Garrett had anticipated this and, with a calm demeanor, set down his fork and motioned for Obe to answer the door. Obe rose from the table and opened the door, revealing a surprised-looking soldier in full uniform and armor.

"Is this where Garrett Klein resides?" the soldier inquired.

Obe nodded, his gaze sweeping over the twenty fully-armed soldiers dispersed about the street.

"It is," he confirmed, "What business do you have with him?"

A soldier, distinguished by his magnificent mustache, major's stripes on his sleeve, and lack of helmet, patted the other soldier's shoulder and stepped forward to address Obe.

"My name is Major Albert Kinsmith. I've come to ask Mr. Klein a few questions."

"Don't leave our guests standing at the door," Garrett called from the table.

With a grunt, Obe stepped aside, allowing Major Kinsmith to enter the inn. Half of the soldiers followed him inside, their hard gazes indicating their intent to assert their authority. The scraping of chairs echoed through the room as a dozen awakened individuals rose to their feet. Coleridge and the Cleaver's Edge mercenary group, who had been invited by Garrett to use the inn as their new base of operations, were still residing there. Coleridge was clearly pleased to save the coin, and as a result, the Klein family had unofficially added nearly twenty new awakened members to their ranks. Feeling the pressure exerted by the mercenary group, the soldiers quickly lost their bravado. However, before the situation could escalate, Garrett raised his hand.

"Welcome to Dreamers Inn," he greeted, "I apologize for not standing to greet you. You're out early this morning. Would your men be interested in some breakfast?"

Major Kinsmith glanced at the mercenaries before nodding.

"Breakfast would be wonderful," he agreed, approaching the table where Garrett and Ryn were seated. "I hope you don't mind if I join you."

Without waiting for a response, he pulled out Obe's chair and sat down, pushing the half-eaten plate of food to the side.

"Of course," Garrett replied, "You're more than welcome. Francis, would you mind serving our friends here some food?"

The sour-faced cook grunted in response, mimicking Obe's earlier reaction, as he retreated to the kitchen. Turning his attention back to the Major, Garrett offered a small smile.

"I've noticed a considerable army presence on the streets these days. As a resident of this district, I'm exceedingly grateful for the excellent job you did in defending against the Black Hand and their zombie horde a few nights ago."

Major Kinsmith appeared uncomfortable at the praise and quickly dismissed it.

"Just doing our duty," he claimed, though his expression betrayed his knowledge of the falsehood of his statement.

Realizing that the conversation had veered off course, he cleared his throat and tapped on the table.

"Speaking of the defense," he began, "I believe some of your forces participated as well."

"Yes," Garrett confirmed, "We volunteered to assist with the defense organized by Captain Fernek. Our friends from Cleaver's Edge helped as well, along with several other local organizations."

Major Kinsmith glanced at Coleridge, the mercenary captain, and offered a small smile before refocusing on Garrett.

"Captain Fernek," he mused, "I heard rumors that he was behind the defense. Quite impressive work for a patrol captain."

"It was," Garrett agreed, "though he wasn't the one who devised the actual plan. He merely organized it."

"Oh?" Major Kinsmith inquired, leaning forward, "You mean there was someone else behind it?"

"Not exactly behind it, per se," Garrett clarified, spearing a piece of egg with his fork. He paused before continuing, "The main line of defense was the Grave Walkers. We're one of their satellite organizations, and they're the ones who established the main thrust of the plan. We defended the walls against the zombie attack while coordinating with the city guard that had mustered. Meanwhile, Cynen, the leader of the grave walkers, and a few others ventured into the crypts to try to eliminate the core of the problem.”

“Were they successful?"

Meeting Major Kinsmith's suspicious gaze with an innocent look, Garrett shrugged.

"I mean, the attack ended, didn't it? I'm sorry, but as you can see, I'm not quite equipped to stand on the front line, so I didn't actually participate in the defense at the wall of the royal graveyard. If you want a firsthand account, may I suggest that you ask Captain Coleridge?"

Major Kinsmith stared at Garrett for a moment before his intense expression softened, and he leaned back with an easy smile.

"No need," he said, "we've spoken to enough people to get a good grasp on what happened, including the army officers whose units moved to assist with the defense of the graveyard wall."

Accepting the plate that Francis offered, Major Kinsmith examined it for a moment before picking up a sausage. Waiting for him to take a bite, Garrett nodded.

"I was quite impressed with the army's strategic decisions," he admitted, "Again, I wasn't actually there, but from all the reports I've heard, it seems that the army picked the right places to reinforce. Quite an impressive grasp of the battlefield, if you ask me."

Nearly choking on his sausage, Major Kinsmith coughed into his hand, gratefully accepting the mug of ale that Ryn pushed towards him and taking a swig to clear his throat.

"Ahem. Yes, quite strategic," he agreed, well aware that the orders sending the units into position had not actually come from the army command.

The mystery of their origin remained unsolved, and the woman who had issued the command to march had yet to be found. After eating a few bites of his food in silence, he finally put down his fork and looked up at Garrett, who was watching him with an amused expression.

"I've been put in charge of investigating exactly how this situation came to be," Major Kinsmith revealed, "And I'm curious as to how the defense was mustered so quickly."

"Have you spoken to Captain Fernek?" Garrett asked, "He's the one who's ultimately responsible for the defense of the city. It's thanks to his efforts in conjunction with other forces that the district wasn't completely overrun."

"That's what I've heard," Major Kinsmith admitted, a faint edge to his voice. "Everyone keeps telling me the same thing."