Dreamer's Throne

For the first time in the conversation, Victor smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile, however, and Garrett had to take a deep breath to keep his hand from beginning to tremble.

"Now that is interesting news. Tell me about it."

"Under Baron Gelavin's instruction, the princess arrived a few days ago."

"Ha, I knew that crafty old goat was up to something," Victor said, slamming his open palm on his desk.

Rising to his feet, he strode to the fireplace and picked up the fire poker to poke at one of the logs.

"Tell me," he said, not looking around. "Is he trying to raise support to reinstate the princess? I bet he was the one who even asked you to write that letter. After all, I'm sure you would have continued hiding in the Northern District, too afraid to contact me, even as you dragged the honor of our family through the mud by associating our name with common criminals."

He punctuated each word in his last sentence by poking the log in the fire fiercely, sending sparks jumping in the fireplace.

"You are correct, father. The baron was the one who asked me to reach out, though I would have done it anyway, even if he had not."

"Oh, explain yourself."

Garrett turned slightly in his chair to face his father, who had straightened up and was staring at him once more. Garrett smiled slightly.

"The princess could be very useful to you, father."

The only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock and the hiss of the logs as they settled. Then, with a clang, Victor dropped the fire poker onto the stone hearth and walked over to stand in front of Garrett. As he did, Garrett felt a cold, clammy feeling wash over his skin, almost as if he had been surrounded by fog. The feeling was gone a moment later as Victor loomed above him.

"What do you know of my business," He asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "That would give you that impression?"

Garrett knew just how violent his father could be, but he knew that he would have to risk it if he wanted to achieve his objective. So he lowered his head, gazing down at his clenched fist, as if terrified.

"Others may not know, father, but I have watched you ever since I was born. I know that you're made for greater things than simply being an advisor, and the princess could very well help you climb to those heights."

Though he wasn't looking up, Garrett was ready in case Victor made a move, but after a long, tense moment, Victor let out a short laugh and walked back over to his desk. He took a seat and crossed his legs. An easy smile stretched across his face. The thunderous clouds that had shrouded him a moment earlier were nowhere to be seen.

"My dear Garrett, you've always been an insightful brat, but I have to admit, I'm surprised to hear those words from you."

Just then, there was a faint ringing sound, and Victor's smile widened even further.

"We'll continue this conversation later. For now, we have a guest. You'll be having lunch with us. I'll have some of the servants help you to your room, where you can freshen up."

Just then, the door opened, and Vester entered. Behind him were three of the large gardeners that Victor Klein employed. Without waiting for Garrett to speak, they walked over, picked up his wheelchair, and carried him out of the room, taking him up the stairs and depositing him roughly in front of one of the doorways.

"You're to go in, young master," one of them said, the sneer in his voice clear.

Not bothering to look at them, Garrett sighed, opened the door, and wheeled himself in. One of the large men stepped in after him, shutting the door and leaning against it.

"You're going to have company for lunch, so you can go ahead and get ready," the thug said.

Garrett was too busy looking around his room to pay any attention to him. Everything was exactly as he had left it. If there was one positive about growing up in the Klein household, it was that he had never lacked for material possessions. There was an entire closet full of clothing of the first order, and Garrett even saw multiple sets of clothes that he didn’t remember. They were all cut in the latest fashions, and a few of them looked as if they had just been purchased.

Considering he had only sent the letter a few days ago, he was surprised at just how meticulous his father was. None of his other things had been touched either, and as Garrett's gaze swept across the room, his eyes lingered on a portrait of a beautiful noblewoman with the same thin features that Garrett possessed, her face pale with illness.

Garrett's mother had died when he was young, following not long after his sister, her will to live broken. Garrett could feel his heart constricting when he saw the picture, but after a few moments, the feeling began to fade, and he found himself returning to a sense of calm. He began to feel the faint sense of loss that had shrouded him when he had arrived at this world, taking over this body.

Many of the attachments young Garrett had were bound to fade, and now returning to his childhood home, Garrett could feel them beginning to evaporate. Part of it was that the memories and feelings associated with this place simply weren't worth holding on to. The few positive memories remaining from Garrett Klein's childhood were kept deep in his heart, but the fear that had been buried in his bones by his father's fierce fists was being burned away by the cold anger that he felt.

The truth was that Victor Klein was a monster. He had harmed many people, though none more than his family. But rather than feel frightened, Garrett had to suppress the urge to laugh. If anything, the last six months had demonstrated clearly that his father had nothing on him. The Garrett Klein who sat in a wheelchair in the midst of his memories wasn't the same Garrett Klein who had suffered under Victor's brutal rule. That single degree of separation allowed him to see the situation, and more importantly, his father, with stark clarity.

Lost in his thoughts, Garrett wasn't aware of the time passing until there was a knock on his door. The bored thug, who had been leaning against the door, watching Garrett all this while, poked his head out.

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“It's time to go,” he said.

Since Garrett had entered the room, he had looked around once, and then hadn't moved, his stillness creeping the thug out. The other large men entered the room once more, and carried Garrett down to the dining room. He still hadn't changed, and he caught a disapproving look from his father, one that in the past would have promised fierce retribution later, and caused him to shiver in fear. Instead, he ignored it, as he looked towards the door, where two women entered.

The first was a beautiful noblewoman, who bore the ironic name Prudence. Originally his father's mistress, she had become his stepmother, after his mother had passed away. Garrett nodded slightly to her, his eyes drifting to the young woman who had entered behind her.

"Ah, Henrietta, welcome. Thank you so much for joining us.”

Henrietta smiled softly, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. She had soft brown curls, and grey eyes flecked with bits of green, but stared curiously past Victor at Garrett, who calmly returned her stare. His smile the very picture of pleasant, Victor turned and gestured to his son.

"This is my son, Garrett.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Henrietta said softly, sinking into a curtsy.

“Likewise,” Garrett said, "'You'll excuse me for being unable to bow properly.”

"That's quite all right,” Henrietta said. “My brother hasn't been able to use his legs since he was young, so I'm very familiar with your situation, and you need not stand on ceremony with me.”

Garrett caught a slight twinkle in her eye as she spoke. That added a bit of charm to her calm elegance. But before he could thank her, the meal was called, and everyone sat down. Victor and Prudence sat on one side of the table, and Garrett and Henrietta sat on the other, as Vester directed the servants to put the food on the table. As was custom, there was very little conversation as they ate, with Victor occasionally asking Henrietta about her family.

The young woman was sharp-witted and lively. Her answers drew laughs from both Victor and Prudence. When she noticed that Garrett wasn't laughing along, she toned down her humorous anecdotes and answered the questions more seriously. If he noticed this, Victor didn't seem to care. But Henrietta, who wasn't content to let Garrett scrape through the meal without participating, seized an opportunity when the dishes were being cleared and dessert was being brought out to turn to him.

“Your father has mentioned that you're a businessman. Is that correct?”

If she noticed the faint furrow in his brow, Henrietta didn't react, but it quickly smoothed out as Garrett nodded.

“I do have my hand in a few ventures.”

What sort of things? I'm quite interested in business myself, much to my mother's consternation. But my father has a more liberal view and has encouraged me to study under a money counter.”

Garrett would have been happy not to answer, but seeing as how his father was staring at him across the table, he knew that wasn't an option.

“One of my businesses deals in soap,” he said.

“Ryn's Royal Soap,” he added, when he saw the expressions on the faces of those around him.

“Oh, good,” Henrietta said, pressing a hand against her chest. “I was afraid that you were going to say Parrow's Fine Soap.”

Noticing that his father's eyes had narrowed slightly when Garrett mentioned the name of their soap brand, Garrett tried not to smile. His father, through one of the noblemen who had backed Parrow, had lost a sizable amount of money, at least if the record books were anything to go by, and had only barely managed to keep from being swept up with the wave of arrests taking place all over the city because Garrett had made a small adjustment.

“We also have a transportation business,” Garrett continued, pretending he didn't know about the tumultuous thoughts racing through his father's head. “Dealing in specialized goods.”

“Neither of those are businesses that I've encountered before,” Henrietta said, a slight pout to her lips.

“What sort of businesses have you been involved in?” Garrett asked, encouraged by his father's glare.

As she heard his follow-up question, Henrietta's face brightened.

“Housing, mostly. My family owns a significant number of homes in the Northern District, as well as a few in the Southern District. Additionally, a few inns and a few of the neighborhoods in the slums.”

“A few is quite an understatement,” Victor said with a wide grin. “What Henrietta's not telling you, Garrett, is that her father, Earl Boren, owns more than half of the properties in the slums.”

A slight blush rose to Henrietta's cheeks, and she peeked sideways at Garrett, clearly wanting to see what sort of impact Victor's words had on him. Looking suitably impressed, Garrett turned to Henrietta.

“My apologies, I didn't realize that you were Earl Boren's daughter.”

Gratified by his changed expression, Henrietta smiled softly. “One shouldn't trade on the name of their forebears. At least, that's what my father has always said. Though, you might guess at how much he believes that, if you consider where our property comes from.”

Seeing that she meant it as a joke, Garrett smiled as Victor and Prudence laughed. A suspicion had begun to bloom in Garrett's mind as soon as he had seen Henrietta, and now, hearing his father's laughter, he was positive that he was right. Just then, Vester came around to offer the lady some of the dessert, and Garrett turned to his father, who was staring across the table at him, a smirk on his face. After dessert had been served, Victor pushed himself back from the table, and selected a cigar from the box that Vester brought over. After lighting it up, he took a few puffs, and then looked between Henrietta and Garrett.

“I'm glad the two of you have finally gotten the chance to meet,” he said. “I'd intended to arrange this meeting some time ago, but with the unfortunate incident six months ago, it became difficult. But now that the opportunity has arisen, I wanted the two of you to get a chance to meet.”

Once again, the faintest of blushes suffused Henrietta's features. It was clear that she knew exactly what was coming. And though Garrett didn't have advance warning, he could guess based on the expressions on the faces around him.

“Garrett,” his father said, leaning back in his chair as he held his cigar between two fingers. “You're getting older. You're not a kid anymore, or even a young man. And it's clear that everything that has happened in the city over the last six months has matured you. As you come into your own, it's only right that you get married. After speaking extensively with Earl Boren, we've together come to the conclusion that you and Henrietta would make a fine pair. Of course, there's no need for us to be in a rush, but it would be nice to be able to announce your engagement at the first season ball. So I'd like the two of you to spend a little bit of time getting to know one another. We'll set your engagement at the first ball of the season, and as long as it's within six months, you can pick any date you want. How does that sound?”

Though Victor was clearly asking a question, Garrett knew that it wasn't actually a question. He could also see Henrietta looking at him from the corner of her eyes, watching his expression.

“I would be delighted to get to know Miss Boren,” Garrett said, his face calm.

Though that wasn't quite what Victor was looking for, it was passable enough, and with that matter settled, he waved his hand.

“Why don't you ladies withdraw, and we'll come and join you in a few minutes. There are a few things I'd like to discuss with my son.”

Jumping up immediately, Prudence quickly brought Henrietta away, not wanting to incur her husband's temper by dawdling, leaving Garrett and Victor alone in the room. For the briefest of moments, Garrett considered simply killing the man across the table. Hidden in his memories were enough atrocities that he would be well-justified in removing Victor Klein from this world. But the thought passed as Garrett remembered his objectives in coming here.

“It looks like you've grown up,” Victor said, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stared across the table at Garrett. "I expected you to fall all over her.”