Dreamer's Throne

Garrett's eyebrows, which were already up, rose imperceptibly, and he couldn't help but lean forward again.

"Ghosts?"

"Yes, ghosts."

From the derision in his voice, it was clear that Henry didn't actually believe that ghosts were the problem.

"Or some sort of spirit," the old man said, scratching his chin again. "My guess is that there's some sort of mysterious artifact that has been unleashed, and it's causing havoc. I heard that you're a member of the Exorcists, and since I was planning on inviting you out to the manor anyways, maybe you could come take a look."

Once again, Garrett found himself having to demur.

"Sorry, I'm a little bit busy for the next few days," he said, but Henry just waved his hand.

"That's fine, it's not a problem at all. We've survived long enough, and we have our ways of managing. But after you crush whatever team is sent against you in the challenge, I would take it as a personal favor if you would come and take a look."

Garrett had been convinced from the moment he laid eyes on Henry Janice that they would be firm enemies, in part due to the locations of their respective headquarters, but also because the natural space for the Klein Family to expand into happened to be Janice Manor's territory. Both gangs were focused on smuggling, one via the waterway and the other via the crypts under the city, so they were naturally at odds. Now, however, it seemed Henry Janice, far from wanting to fight, was actually extending an olive branch. Finding his interest piqued, Garrett nodded.

"Sure, I'd be happy to come and take a look."

"Thank you," Henry said, standing up and bowing again.

A few others came over to chat with Garrett, each of them congratulating him on his temporary rise to the table, and a few privately confiding that they were confident he wouldn't have any trouble with the Challenger team that the Ebony Association and the Marble Griffins would send after him. Though he would have liked to think it was because they were confident in him, Garrett knew full well that it was actually Cynen's growth that made them so sure of their statements.

The only encounter that caused him any trouble was when Carl Rackham of Rackham's Blade strolled over. Cynen, seeing him coming close, moved next to Garrett, as if to guard him, causing a savage grin to slide across Carl Rackham's lips.

"You're not that strong," he said, looking at Cynen. "At least not yet. Your growth is quite impressive, however."

Turning, he looked at Garrett with a careful gaze, his eyes narrowing as he examined him.

"Welcome to the table."

"Thank you, Mr. Rackham," Garrett replied, bowing his head.

"You might have the others fooled, including Thomas," Rackham said bluntly, "but you haven't fooled me one bit. I know a monster when I see one."

Rackham's words gave Garrett pause, causing his body to tense. He had brought Cynen over to try and cover his aura more than anything else, but that clearly hadn’t worked one bit. Mentally reviewing everything that had happened, Garrett realized that the powerful mercenary must have noticed his interaction with the trolls down below. Watching the mercenary leader's relaxed posture, he concluded that he wasn't in any danger but before he could ask any follow-up questions, Rackham got to his feet, flashing his savage, signature grin once more.

"But don't worry, I won't tell anybody if you don't either."

With a wave of his hands, he turned and walked away, leaving Garrett and Cynen staring after him.

"What do you think?" Garrett asked, his voice quiet.

"He's a dangerous man," Cynen replied, staring after the mercenary captain. "Of everyone here, he's the only one I'd need to worry about."

"And us together?" Garrett asked.

"We could crush him like an afterthought," came Cynen's flat reply, causing Ryn to laugh.

Though Garrett had never explicitly explained his strength to her, she wasn't stupid, and over the last few months had quickly realized that the frail-looking young man sitting in the wheelchair was likely stronger than anyone else she had ever met. It's just that his strength was kept carefully hidden under the surface.

"How do you think he discovered me?" Garrett asked, and this time it was Ryn who responded.

"Earlier, when the trolls were going to attack us, they avoided you. He might have also just sniffed it out. There were people like him in Black Raven," she said. "They have a sort of sixth sense for this sort of thing, an uncanny instinct to alert them to danger."

"I see."

Hearing a commotion down below, Garrett had Ryn bring him over to the stairs, Cynen following a few steps behind, and he peered down the staircase, where he saw the two trolls being pulled away. The one Cynen had burned was largely healed, though its skin still bore traces of the flame that had covered it. It happened to glance up as it was fighting against its handlers, and caught sight of Cynen staring down at it. Immediately it went still, its bloodshot eye filling with fear, and then turning, lunged away, dragging its handlers after it. With the path down to the lower level cleared, the gang leaders all began to make their way down. There wasn't much talking, as most of them were still processing everything that had happened, but Garrett could feel their glances as they passed by him.

"Well, that was eventful," he said. "Let's head back to the inn."

Making their way down through the underground, they joined up with the men that Cynen had brought, and headed towards the entrance to the sewer system. They moved quite a bit quicker on their way back to the inn, and as they navigated through the wide tunnels that ran under the city, Garrett could tell that something was bothering Ryn.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, and after a moment of thinking about the question, Ryn nodded.

"Yes, I mean, sort of," she said. "It's just, things seem to be moving really fast."

"Oh, what do you mean?" Garrett asked.

"I mean, joining the table is a really big deal, and apart from the nobles, and the guilds, the ten seats hold more power in this city than anyone. So, to suddenly find ourselves holding one of the seats, I mean, it just seems sort of unreal."

Garrett was quiet as he considered her words. "It's true," he finally said, speaking slowly, as he adjusted the blanket over his legs. "Things have accelerated considerably, but the reality is that I miscalculated."

"Miscalculated?" Ryn asked.

"Yeah, I underestimated the intelligence of the gangs we're dealing with," Garrett replied. "It's pretty clear that Silver Song noticed us a while ago. Their fingers run deep among the common people, and as soon as we started spreading our influence, it makes complete sense that they would have noticed. From what I understand, they don't have a territory, but are rather comprised of professionals in the hospitality and entertainment fields all over the city. Is that right?"

"Yes." Cynen, who was walking alongside them, was the one who answered. "Yes, it's a lot of innkeepers, stable boys, dancers, bards, and the like. In fact, practically anyone could be an informant for Silver Song. So, it's likely that they had picked up on our activity as soon as we got started. And no doubt sold that information to the others."

"Indeed," Garrett said, "which again was my mistake." A thought struck him, and he sent out a query to Somnia, the large overlord flower. "Have we infected anyone who works with Silver Song?"

The reply came back almost instantaneously, and caused Garrett to clench his teeth in frustration. "Yes, my lord. Approximately an eighth of the individuals carrying a dream flower also have some sort of connection with Silver Song, either directly, or within one degree of separation."

The news felt like a physical blow to Garrett, and he couldn't help but press his hand against his chest. He knew that he had been running a risk by expanding as rapidly as he had, but had never considered the fact that other organizations might have beaten him to the punch. The information brokers were clearly spread throughout the city, their fingers in a multitude of pies, and their ever watchful agents lurking among the general population. It was a significant oversight on his part to have ignored the possibility, but it was too late now to do anything.

Taking a deep breath to stabilize his mind, his mind began to spin with thoughts of how to best take advantage of the situation. Silver Song, however, wasn't his only problem. Though on the surface, joining the council and getting a seat at the table was a clear indication of the power of his gang, Garrett was under no delusion. He understood that anyone who had voted for him to take the position did so because they wanted something from him, Thomas Gelavin most of all.

They had just finished fighting off the skeletal arm of Lesrak and his army of undead, but now they were being thrust into the muddy waters of the city's political battles. This was made worse by the fact that Thomas knew not only knew who he was, but knew who his father was as well. Garrett had not thought about his parents for considerable time, relegating any instincts or desires to reconnect with them to the back of his mind. Now, thanks to Thomas, those feelings had reared their heads once more.

What he found curious was that the natural instinct that remained in his body was not one of anticipation, but rather a faint sense of dread and fear. Garrett, who was solidly in the middle of the Shaper level, was fairly confident that there were few beings in the city he couldn't handle. So to feel fear at the mere mention of his father's name indicated a much deeper trauma, realizing that he needed to spend some time examining his own memory to attempt to piece together what information he could.

Garrett also resolved to go and visit Silver Song and one of the information brokers to try to get a better overview of the current political climate in the city. From the little bit that Thomas had shared, it was clear that his father was making some sort of play. He had always been a staunch loyalist, so to hear that he was serving the royal duke in the capacity of an adviser set off alarm bells in Garrett's mind.

When they arrived back at the inn, dawn was almost upon them, so Garrett had Ryn take him to his room, where he caught a few hours of sleep. Thanks to his strengthened body, and the power contained in his soul spark, he needed very little sleep, and could operate fine for multiple days without it.

Sleep brought him clarity, however. When he opened his eyes, he found himself refreshed, his mind clearer. It was almost as if the many jumbled puzzle pieces he had collected the day before had been slotted into place, giving him a clear perspective on everything he had heard. After a bit of breakfast, he dressed, taking particular care with his outfit. Rather than dressing like a lesser noble, as he normally did, he wore a black shirt with a vest to match. Black pants and boots completed his outfit, and he brushed his hair, which was getting longer, back There were many things demanding his attention, but all of them were set aside.

Ryn soon joined him in his office, dressed in a beautiful but understated black dress with the barest hints of black and silver lace. Her expression was dim, the coming activities weighing heavily on her. Garrett had to admit to himself that he felt much the same. As the hour passed, more and more members of the family began to gather in the inn's great room. Like Ryn, they were dressed somberly, their clothes dark, their expressions the same. Any speaking was done in quiet voices, as if afraid to break the stillness.

Garrett, carrying a small box on his lap, wheeled himself into the great room and greeted those who had already gathered. When the hour was up, a long toll sounded from the city's bell, and Garrett let out a small sigh.

"It's time," he said.

Ryn came and took the handles of his wheelchair, pushing him out into the street outside the inn, as the members of the Klein Family gang filtered out behind him. They stayed in rough formation, five people across, and a few dozen rows deep, as they began to make their way through the streets, heading north towards the graveyard. They marched quietly, speaking not a word as they passed through the city.

But a curious thing soon began to happen. Citizens, catching sight of them, quietly put down what they were doing, and bowed their heads. A few able-bodied men and women, seeing them pass, looked at each other, and then stepped out of their homes or shops, joining the procession as it passed by. Children stood quietly, in the alleys and doorways, or peeked from behind windowsills, watching in silence as the growing army marched forth. Those who couldn't leave their places for whatever reason, bowed deeply, hand across their chest, in a gesture of respect.

The sound of Garrett's wheelchair clicking against the cobblestones, mixed with the thud of feet, as the Klein Family made their way forth. Once they were out of their territory, others began to join them as well. The grey and black robed Grave Walkers, who fell into step on the outside of the column, formed two lines, as if to guard them. By this point, the original hundred members of the Klein Family, who had set out from the inn, had swelled to close to six hundred, the majority of them citizens, and more and more streamed from behind them, hurrying to catch up.

A watching city guard member looked nervously at the approaching crowd as they got close to the graveyard, his hand dropping to the horn at his waist, as he wondered if he should sound the alarm. Before he could, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and jumped. Looking around, he saw one of the men under Captain Fernek, who was breathing heavily, clearly having run for a considerable distance.

"It's a funeral," the man said. "Captain Fernek has ordered us to stand down. We'll let them into the graveyard."

Cynen met Garrett and the others at the entrance to the royal graveyard, and at her command, the gates opened, allowing the growing crowd of citizens in. There were close to a thousand of them now, with more arriving every second. And though some of the latecomers were not dressed in dark colors like the others, from their somber expressions, it was clear that they felt the weight of the situation just as strongly.

Cynen led them through the royal graveyard, taking them past the tall mausoleums, where members of the royal family from ages past had been buried, all the way to a small gate set in the northern wall. It had taken them a number of hours to cross the distance, but no one seemed to be in a rush, and as they opened the small gate and began to file through, the somber air that shrouded them grew deeper still.