Dreamer's Throne

The next morning Garrett slept late. Or at least, he tried to. Frantic sounds from the hallway snapped him awake, shaking the vestiges of sleep from his eyes. The first thing he did was check his connections with the Dream Seeds he’d planted. By this point, nearly everyone in the inn apart from Henrick and Obe were hosts for Dream Flowers, and as Garrett concentrated a flood of negative feelings washed over him. Fear, anxiety, worry, anger, and pain were the most common, though a few people communicated a sense of twisted happiness.

Realizing something was off, Garrett changed his shirt and pulled himself into his wheelchair. Ryn was over by the kitchen, along with most of the other members of the gang, so that’s where Garrett headed. From the intense feelings he was picking up on, he could only imagine that there must have been an accident. When he arrived, the hallway was packed with people trying to peer into the kitchen.

Tapping on someone’s back, Garrett got them to clear a path and squeezed in. The gang member who he first tapped took the opportunity to latch onto his wheelchair, using pushing him into the kitchen as an excuse for coming in, but Ryn took over as soon as she saw Garrett, much to the young man’s disappointment.

“What’s going on?” Garrett asked, taking in Ryn’s pale face.

Shaking her head, she wheeled Garrett forward, allowing him to see around the large island that filled the middle of the kitchen. Against the wall by the back door sat what remained of the cook, his head slumped and his eyes wide in death. It was only now that the dense smell of blood hit Garrett, but when it did he gagged. The cook’s body was leaning against the wall next to the half-open door, but his stomach had been ripped out and placed in a pot next to him, revealing his spine and ribs. Blood was splashed liberally across the floor and the door was splattered with dark crimson spots.

“What…?”

“Ryn found him this morning. No one has touched the body yet,” Gorn said, his face twisted into a scowl.

Frowning, Garrett checked the connection he had with the Dream Flower he’d planted in the cook. It had been two weeks since he’d pulled the cook into a lucid dream to try to harvest experience points from him, and the flower had been growing well. He was unsurprised to find that the flower was gone, and could only assume that it had died when the cook did. What was surprising was that he had no idea it had happened.

Realizing there was a gap in his defenses that he knew nothing about, Garrett made a note to try to address that as soon as possible while he looked over the scene of the crime. It had only been twenty minutes since they had found the cook’s body, and from the way blood was continuing to pool under the corpse, it appeared that the murder had happened within the last few hours. Despite the cloying smell that made him want to vomit, Garrett rolled himself closer, his face leaning down as he examined the strange wound around the cook’s waist.

On first look it appeared that all the flesh, fat, and muscle from the top of the cook’s waist to the bottom of his ribcage had been surgically removed. Yet as he looked closer, a more terrifying idea appeared in Garrett’s mind. The edges of the wound weren’t as cleanly cut as he would have expected, and instead appeared to have been created with a claw rather than a blade. Additionally, there was a puncture wound Garrett hadn’t seen before in the cook’s neck and another in his chest, right above his lungs.

“Gorn, have you seen these?” Garrett asked, pointing toward the two other wounds.

“I did,” Gorn nodded. “Those look like the work of an assassin. Someone with knowledge about human anatomy did that. A long blade inserted here will collapse the lungs, and another here in the neck will ensure the target cannot yell.”

“But they’re both from the front, which is odd,” Garrett said. “The back door should be shut and locked at night, which means they likely didn’t come in that way. Plus, the cook didn’t mount any resistance, which means he may have known the killer.”

“You better keep those thoughts quiet if you don’t want to cause a panic.”

Looking up, Garrett saw Henrick had arrived. The gang boss’ face was grim as he stared down at the corpse.

“What a mess. Let’s get this cleaned up. For now, let’s say that it’s the work of a ghoul that’s loose in the sewer system. We’ll send a team down to hunt it.”

“You think people will buy that?” Gorn asked, shooting a glance back at the gang members crowded in the hall.

“They’ll have to,” Henrick practically snarled. “Get this cleaned up. And someone bring me breakfast. Garrett, I want to talk to you.”

Sharing a look with Gorn, Garrett pushed himself after Henrick while Gorn called a few people over to wrap the cook’s corpse up. Her nose wrinkled because of the smell, Ryn started to put breakfast together, barely able to stomach working with food in the blood-drenched space. Following Henrick out to his office, Garrett entered and shut the door behind him. Turning around, he saw Henrick upending a bottle into his mouth. A few other bottles already littered the room, and it was clear Henrick had been drinking late into the night.

“Ugh,” Henrick groaned, slamming the bottle down on the table. “This is the worst timing.”

“Indeed, it is unfortunate.”

“We were just about to get that soap thing working and now we have a nasty murder case. It’s going to spook the gang badly.”

“We can still go out with the soap,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “In light of the situation, I would recommend we have Gorn look into this killing. And maybe increase the security of the inn as well.”

“Do you think it will help?” Henrick asked, giving Garrett a detached look.

Shrugging, Garrett pushed himself over to the desk. The callous disregard that Henrick seemed to have for the death of the cook was troubling and Garrett was having trouble getting the image of the torn apart body out of his mind, but he could tell that he needed to tread carefully with the gang boss. Henrick had been drinking heavily, and his mood was unpredictable. Thinking quickly, Garrett scanned the room and caught sight of the map of the city that Henrick had been looking at, so he tried to shift the conversation in the direction the gang boss wanted.

“I don’t see that we have another choice. We need to catch the murder, otherwise morale will hit rock bottom, which will be bad for us if the Swamp Sharks start something. After all, who wants to be in a gang where their death might go unpunished.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Henrick said, nodding. “Just like you said they would, the Swamp Sharks have been quiet for the last few weeks while they tried to figure out what happened to Ruel and the twins, but now they’re starting to get aggressive again. Just like you predicted.”

“They’re being forced to show their teeth to maintain their position in the city. Which, assuming we can weather their aggression, provides us with an excellent opportunity,” Garrett said, taking a breath to stabilize his jumping emotions.

“You mean we use their aggression to start a war with them?” Henrick asked, his nose wrinkling as he tried to guess what Garrett was saying.

“No, we’ll leave the declarations of war to them,” Garrett replied. “But we will use it to swallow them whole. They have a lot of really good territory that was originally ours, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then we’ll take this opportunity to get it back. The key will be knowing when to let them push, and when to strike back. We’ll allow them to overextend and then snap them up.”

“You make it sound like it’ll be easy. What’s to keep them from just attacking us?” Henrick asked, taking a swig from his bottle as he stared at Garrett from narrowed eyes. “They have the numbers to just run over us.”

“Not for long,” Garrett said, a strained smile flickering across his pale face. “They’ll have their own troubles soon. After all, we’re not their only enemies. While they’re busy, we’ll solidify our position by establishing this new business and then we’ll bait them into overcommitting their forces.”

Taking another pull at his bottle, Henrick stared at Garrett for a moment, his expression unreadable. Garrett fancied himself a calm person, but there was something about the way Henrick stared that gave him a sense of intense danger. The gang boss was by far the strongest Awakened he’d met, and the gap between them created a natural sense of suppression that Garrett found challenging to overcome. He had tried multiple times in the last week to plant Dream Seeds in both Henrick and Obe, but the two men were too strong and flowers wouldn’t take. Gorn and Ruel, the two Awakened he’d managed to plant seeds on, were about as strong as he was, allowing his power to work, but it was really bothering him that Henrick remained outside of his grasp. Making sure to show none of his frustration on his face, Garrett met Henrick’s gaze with as much calm and confidence as he could manage, causing the gang boss to snort and look away.

“You sure are confident. But I have to admit, I like it. I don’t mind telling you that I’m not cut out for this whole leading thing. I much preferred it when my old boss was in charge. He would just point me at something and I’d take care of it, no matter what it was. None of this strategic planning or weighing options. It’s been a breath of fresh air to have you around to help with making plans and things like that.”

“Happy to help,” Garrett said, a hint of relief in his voice. “After all, this is my place now too.”

“Good to hear. Tell Gorn what you need and he’ll make sure you get it.”

“Thanks.”

Taking the hint as Henrick turned away, Garrett wheeled himself out of the room and closed the door behind him, his expression twitching when the door clicked shut.

Why was the smell of blood so dense on him? Don’t tell me Henrick was the one who killed the cook? No, it couldn’t be. His ability is based around cutting. All of his cuts are as smooth as glass. That was way too rough to be him. Did he find the body first? But if so, why wouldn’t he have said something?

There was something about Henrick that had always set Garrett’s teeth on edge, and recently the feeling had only grown stronger. Unable to put his finger on it, Garrett had defaulted to being extra careful to only ever show the innkeeper a positive, helpful side.

It’s time to put the next step of my plan into action. But first, let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on with breakfast.

Wheeling himself back to the kitchen, Garrett found that most of the blood had been cleaned up and Gorn, along with some of the other gang members, had taken the cook’s body to the graveyard. Ryn was cooking some porridge, which was about the only thing she knew how to make, so Garrett instructed her to get the eggs out to make omelets. All the counters were too high for him to help, but he could direct, and for the next hour he and Ryn cooked breakfast for everyone in the inn. When they were finally done and everything had been cleaned up, Ryn threw the hand towel she’d been using to dry her hands at him.

“Listen, if you think I’m going to take over as cook, you’re crazy. There’s no way. I’m never preparing food for those locusts again.”

“Cooks make a silver coin a week,” Garrett said dryly.

“So when do we start lunch?” Ryn asked, putting an apron on.

Chuckling, Garrett shook his head.

“You’ll make a lot more than that once we get the soap business going, so don’t get attached to this job. Once word gets out that we’re short a cook, you can bet we’ll have people popping up all over the place to get this job. Until then, you and I will have to fill in.”

“Fine, but I’m charging a silver to do it.”

“Talk to Henrick about that,” Garrett said.

“Oh, come on. You’re the money counter. Can’t you just write it in?”

“Of course I can,” Garrett nodded, “but I won’t. That would be theft. Don’t worry, I’m betting we’ll have someone by dinner time.”

To Ryn’s amazement, Garrett’s prediction was spot-on, and not only did a dozen prospective cooks show up to apply for the job, but they were even able to hire one of them in time for him to begin dinner. He was a rail-thin man whose glare was intense, and he had won the job after intimidating all the other cooks to gain the top spot. Going by the name of Francis, when asked if he was concerned that the previous cook had died earlier that day, he just snorted.

“A bit of blood in the soup never hurt anyone.”

While Garrett didn’t agree at all, he appreciated the sentiment and gave his vote of approval, sealing the matter. Gorn had long since returned from taking the cook’s body to the graveyard, and as dinner wrapped up he and Obe put together a team to head down into the crypts to see if they could ferret out the ghoul Henrick had pinned the crime on. Telling Ryn he was tired, Garrett went to bed early and entered the Dream to watch over Gorn and the team with Observe the Dream. However, when they got to the entrance to the basement Garrett realized he couldn’t actually follow them remotely.

[This passage has a defective seal that prevents you from seeing beyond it. Remove the seal to use your abilities in this passage.]

Standing up from the Dreamer’s Throne, Garrett stepped into the hall, where he was welcomed by the flowers that had spread out all along the walls. Brushing his hand against them as he walked down to the end of the hall, Garrett stared at the sealed basement door. He’d been avoiding dealing with this strange door, since he had no idea what was beyond it or why it had been set up in the first place.

Touching it lightly, he felt the mental strength it contained. There was significant power trapped in the symbols that made up the seal, but down by the corner of it Garrett saw a small root that stretched out from the Dream Flower that covered the wall. Realizing the Dream Flower had been absorbing the power from the seal, Garrett’s eyebrow twitched. No wonder the seal had become defective.

“You might as well complete the job you started,” Garrett said with a snort.

Surging with light, the Dream Flower stretched its roots out hungrily, soon covering the door as it absorbed the mental energy from the seal. In less than two minutes new flowers bloomed all over the first and second floors of the inn and creeping tendrils began to make their way up to the third floor.