Dreamer's Throne

Book 3: Chapter 45

For the next two hours, Garrett sat silently at the table, listening as the business of the council was discussed. From the impatient expressions on many of the gang leaders' faces, it seemed that Thomas was mostly bringing things up for his benefit. Considering the friendly looks that Thomas often sent his way, Garrett was beginning to suspect that his true identity had been found. This suspicion was reinforced after the meeting was called to a close, when Thomas hurried over before he could leave.

"Garrett, so nice to see you," Thomas said, extending his arm.

Responding to Thomas's outstretched arm with a slight bow, Garrett returned a small smile of his own.

"These are certainly not the circumstances under which I expected to encounter you once again," he said. "I didn't realize that you had quite so much influence."

Chuckling, Thomas nodded and gestured for Garrett to follow him. Most of the other gang leaders were splitting off into small groups to chat. Thomas led Garrett to an out-of-the-way section of the platform where a number of couches had been arranged. Thomas took a seat as Ryn parked Garrett's wheelchair nearby.

"Out of curiosity, are you actually an exorcist?" Thomas asked, looking at Garrett with careful eyes.

"I am," Garrett admitted. "Though, as you can clearly see, I do other things as well."

"Quite a few other things, from what my reports tell me," Thomas said, not bothering to keep his voice quiet.

When he saw Garrett glance over his shoulder, he laughed and waved a hand.

"Don't worry," he said. "There's a mysterious artifact here that suppresses sound. Unless you're standing within a few feet of someone, you won't be able to hear what they say. That's how we keep our conversations at the table private when we need to. They always activate it after the table discussion is done so we can have private conversations."

"Is that right?"

Intrigued, Garrett looked around but didn't see anything, causing Thomas to chuckle before changing the subject.

"You know, it took me a long time to place you. Longer than it should have. And frankly, I'm embarrassed. But I think I can be forgiven for that blunder, considering we all thought you were dead."

Raising his eyebrows, Garrett looked at Thomas with a blank stare.

"Excuse me," he said. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, come off it," Thomas said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're Garrett Klein, our late prince's study partner. Your family doesn't socialize much, so I didn't recognize you right away. It took some digging through the archives to even discover your given name. But I knew I had seen you before, probably at one of the parties at the palace. Does your family know you're alive? Because I imagine they'd be quite concerned if they saw what you have become."

"Do you mean the leader of a gang or a cripple?" Garrett asked, his voice cool.

An apologetic look flashed across Thomas's face, and he held up his hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to broach a sore subject, and I'll take it that your family doesn't know where you are."

"That is correct," Garrett said. "I think I would like to keep it that way."

"All right, that's up to you. But if you're ever in a spot, you really should consider contacting your father. He has more power in the palace than ever."

"Is he still alive?" Garrett asked cautiously, feeling his way through the conversation. I would have thought that he would have fallen with the late king.

He had memories of his childhood in the palace, and could easily determine both his mother and father's faces, though he found many of the details about them a bit hazy. However, since arriving in the slums and having his soul merged with someone from another world, he had largely put that life behind him, leading to him having no idea what had happened to his family.

"Yes, your parents are alive," Thomas said, nodding. "In fact, your dad has risen a few ranks. He's been assisting the royal duke as his chief adviser. And judging by the content of my father's muttered curses, he's been doing a terribly efficient job."

"My apologies," Garrett said, bowing his head.

"You don't have to apologize," Thomas replied. "We don't get to pick our fathers. Believe me, I have first-hand experience with that. As it is, when I realized who you were, I also realized the inevitability of your ascent, and thought it would be a good idea to help you along a little bit. After all, us nobles should stick together."

Instead of replying, Garrett closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, before his finger tapped on the armrest of his wheelchair. Thomas clearly wasn't a fool, and considering he knew not only who Garrett was, but knew his family as well, it meant that the baron's son was well-connected in political circles. Likely, it was his father, Baron Gelavin, who was a major player. Even though his rank wasn't necessarily that high, that didn't mean all that much, as many of the prime political movers in the city intentionally kept their ranks low to avoid the spotlight. Exactly what Garrett had been trying and failed to do. Now, however, he had a problem, and was left with few options.

Since Thomas was the one who knew him, he could always arrange for Thomas's death, or even send a dream seed to invite him into the family. But Garrett was wary, concerned that Thomas was simply the front for someone else. Potentially even Baron Gelavin himself. Ever since he had discovered that there were ways to detect the dream flowers, he had been much more cautious about using them to dominate others, and now figured it would be best to just play along. His eyes snapped open, and he fixed Thomas with a direct stare.

"What is it you need from me?" he asked.

The bluntness of his question caught Thomas off guard, and with a slightly nervous chuckle, Thomas leaned back, throwing one arm over the couch. His other palm rubbed against his pants as he spoke.

"You have the ability to move people in and out of the city, correct?"

Garrett didn't reply yes or no, and instead just waited for Thomas to continue, which he did after an awkward moment.

"Well, we're looking to have someone brought into the city."

"We?" Garrett asked, his eyebrows inching up. "Are you speaking of the Moonlight Council, or are you speaking of you and your father?"

Licking his lips, Thomas flashed a small smile.

"Me and my father."

"So this is a personal favor," Garrett asked, his finger idly rubbing against the wood rail of his armrest. "A favor specifically for Baron Gelavin."

"Not just Baron Gelavin," Thomas corrected, his eyes gleaming with barely suppressed excitement as he leaned forward. "For the individual you'd be bringing in as well. I can't say much, but I can tell you it will be highly, highly lucrative for you to help us out."

This time, Garrett only paused for a moment before he nodded.

"Fine, I'm happy to help. Do you know where the drop-off point is? Outside the city?"

"Yes, at the abandoned dock, right?"

"Yes. How many people do you need me to move?" Garrett asked.

Thomas held up three fingers.

"The most important person and two bodyguards," he said. "Three."

"Very well. If you simply send me a message to let me know when to expect them, I'll bring them into the city," Garrett said. "I won't be able to attend to it personally, but I'll make sure the family's best is on it."

"Thank you," Thomas said, relief clear in his voice. "You are making the right choice here. Ah, it looks like you have other people who would like to talk to you."

Standing up, Thomas gestured over Garrett's head. When he turned, he saw Gero Twin Blade, Henry Janis, and Jonathan Moran coming his way. Each was standing at a respectful distance from the others, clearly interested in chatting with Garrett so Thomas said his goodbyes and left, allowing Jonathan Moran of the Telabron Merchant Gang to walk over and greet Garrett.

"Looks like you have others who want a word, so I'll make this quick," Jonathan said, flashing a smile. "My name is Jonathan Moran. I am the leader of Telabron. I'm sure you've already figured out we're backed by the Merchant Guild in the same way that the Hunters are supported by the Adventurers Guild. There's been much talk about you recently, and I'm very glad to make your acquaintance. I was wondering if you'd have some time in the next few days for us to talk about a few arrangements. Strictly business, I assure you."

"I'll probably be busy for the next few days," Garrett said. "But after that, I should be available."

"Ah, that's right. You have a challenge in three days. Why don't we say afterwards? I'd like to invite you to my manor to celebrate your impending victory." Jonathan Moran flashed a smile, his eyes darting towards Gero Twin Blade. "While I'm sure you have a hard fight ahead of you, everything I've heard suggests that you'll be more than up to the task, especially if Death's Flame agrees to fight for you. Anyway, it has been lovely meeting you, and I just wanted to say welcome to the Council."

Next up was Gero Twin Blade, who stalked over as soon as Moran left. Her expression was fierce, and her hands twitched ever so slightly, as if they were about to dart towards the handles of her swords. When she got close to Garrett, the aura coming off of her was so palpable that Ryn actually took a step forward, her hand dropping to the knife at her waist. If Gero saw it, she didn't let on. Instead, she just glared straight at Garrett.

"You have an opportunity to give up," she said. "But do so before my patience wears thin. Otherwise, I'll burn your gang down around you. And I'll burn that inn you call home down around your ears."

Garrett didn't respond, simply watching her calmly, as her anger grew, her hands inching closer to the handles of her swords. Finally, about to erupt, she took a small step forward, shifting her weight as if she was just about to attack. But at that moment, another voice sounded behind her.

"Threats go both ways, Gero."

Cynen's tone was cold, and froze the leader of the Ebony Association in her tracks. Very carefully, her hands eased away from her sword, and her body relaxed. Taking a step back, she half-turned, glancing at Cynen, who had appeared behind her. The leader of the Grave Walkers wasn't looking at her, but was instead staring straight ahead, her cloth-covered eyes seemingly directed into the void.

"I won't repeat myself," Gero said, speaking more to Garrett than to Cynen. "If you wait until the challenge, you'll suffer the consequences."

"If you do anything outside of the structure of the ten seats," Cynen replied, "we'll be finding someone else to take your place at the table."

Her counter threat was so calm, so natural, that Gero found her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she wondered if it had been Cynen who had killed Paskal and the Brass Tiger Syndicate. With a hard glare, she turned and walked away. Cynen turned to look after her. There was no need for Garrett and Cynen to speak, as they were connected with an implacable bond at the very soul level. But to keep up appearances, Cynen still spoke softly.

"Be careful of her," she said. "Stay on your guard. It's likely they'll try something before the date of the challenge."

Only Henry remained standing nearby, and after Gero left, he walked forward. As the master of Janice Manor made his way forward, he glanced cautiously at Cynen. Sensing that he wanted to talk to Garrett alone, Garrett sent her away, though she stopped a few feet out of earshot. Henry Janice was a thin, dour-looking man whose clothes were long out of fashion and considerably faded. That didn't seem to bother him one bit, however, and Garrett could clearly tell that his mind was on other things. Bobbing a quick bow, Henry took his seat on the couch facing Garrett and observed him silently for a moment.

"We're neighbors, but weve never met," Garrett said, after a minute of silence, trying to get the conversation started. "You live on the island south of the inn, is that correct? In the middle of the bay?"

"Yes, that's correct," Janice said. "The river has washed away what used to be the city between us, leaving only my island with my manor afloat. But even though there's some distance, we're more connected than you may know."

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Garrett leaned forward.

"You speak of the tunnels under the inn," he said. "I've noticed that some of them stretch to the south. Do they run under your manor?"

"They do," Henry Janice nodded, "and further than that, though it's honestly too dangerous to explore. However, I've heard that you have dug a new tunnel to the outside, and I wanted to ask if that was accurate."

Sensing that Henry Janice had come to him with a specific goal in mind, Garrett found himself intrigued. He had used the flower ghouls to carve a path through the earth, relying on their excellent digging abilities to make quick progress. But Henry Janice didn't know that. All he knew was that the gang that had formerly been the Ghoul's Tooth had expanded their network of smuggling tunnels.

"I'm hoping for an introduction," Henry said, reaching up to scratch his chin. "Whoever it was you had engineer your tunnels."

"It was done in-house," Garrett replied, noticing the way Henry's eyes widened. Clearly, the leader of the Janice Manor assumed that there were one or more awakened involved, but the fact that they seemed to belong to the Klein family created complications. One of the safeguards that all smugglers put in place was keeping their nest of pathways secret. Rather than simply dig a single tunnel, smugglers would almost always dig dozens, forming a maze that would cause anyone trying to replicate their route to get lost. However, if Henry asked Garrett's men to create a new tunnel, it was likely they would clearly know the path, making it impossible for him to keep exclusive control over it.

With a faint grimace, Henry Janice narrowed his eyes.

"We'll have to talk about that a little bit more," he said. "I was hoping that it was freelance, but be that as it may, I actually have something else to talk to you about as well."

"Oh?" Garrett leaned back in his chair and gestured for the old nobleman to continue.

"The mansion I live in has a bit of a problem," Henry Janice said, his lips twitching. He paused as if almost embarrassed about what he was going to say next. "I think we might have a problem with ghosts."