Dreamer's Throne 2: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure, page 6
“Corig, can you take Frankie to get something to eat? He looks hungry. Frankie, you can relax. You’re not in trouble, and we’ll let your dad know you’re staying with us.”
The promise of food seemed to perk Frankie up, and he jumped up, bobbing his head toward Garrett before following Corig out to the kitchen. Obe jerked his head and the other gang members trailed behind the young man to keep an eye on him. Once they had all left, he looked at Garrett, his expression slightly skeptical. Garrett could read the question on Obe’s face, so he straightened the papers on his desk and took out a file, gesturing for Obe to approach and take a look. Blinking at the dizzying numbers that covered the top sheet, Obe let out a grunt and sat down, his eyes resting on Garrett.
“Are we really making a move?”
“We already have,” Garrett replied, his expression nonchalant. “It’s almost time for the second phase. Please let Gavon know that his son is here.”
“What are we to do about Howler’s men? They’re combing the city, and if we’re not careful they’ll find out where he is.”
“Nothing. Just ignore them for the moment.”
“You sure that’s wise, boss? Thomas Howler is a nasty piece of work, and if we stick our nose into this, we’ll be asking for trouble.”
Slowly nodding, Garrett lifted the sheet of paper he had already shown Obe, shaking it in the air.
“This is a rough estimate of the production schedule for the meat processing plant. Until the city was locked, it was responsible for a full quarter of the city’s meat. That’s too big a prize to let go. Food stability is one of the main things we need to establish, and we won’t get a much better opportunity. Even more importantly, it gives us a chance to pick a fight with Mr. Howler.”
“Wait, you want to pick a fight with the Howlers?”
“Just Mr. Howler,” Garrett said, putting the paper down and looking across the desk at Obe, a faint smile on his lips. “A lesson for you, Obe. When you are faced with an opponent, always understand their constraints. The Howlers have more Awakened than we do, but they don’t style themselves as a gang, which limits what they can do. They don’t have the luxury of a gang brawl, and any major action they take will be under the scrutiny of the guards. We can leverage that against them.”
“You have more confidence than I do,” Obe grumbled, shaking his head.
“Just trust me, Obe. Can you let Gavon of Delver’s Butchers know that we have his son? Tell him he can come pick up Frankie any time.”
Rising from the chair, Obe nodded and headed for the door, stopping as he reached it. Looking over his shoulder, he looked like he wanted to say something, and Garrett could feel the mix of anxious and doubtful feelings through the connection they shared. Pretending he hadn’t noticed, Garrett sent out a thread of calm, causing the four-bloom flower in Obe’s mind to settle down, which in turn helped Obe relax slightly. Shaking his head, Obe never ended up saying anything, and a moment later Garrett was alone in the office.
Closing his eyes, Garrett checked through the hundreds of connections he had, looking for abnormalities or dangers. This had become a habit of his as the network of flowers grew, and it had been proving to be a tremendous way to get information. Even during the day he could pick up traces of information here and there, which is how he had managed to figure out where Frankie was hiding so quickly. Not finding anything of particular note, Garrett took out a piece of paper and added a few notes to it.
Ryn’s history is unexpected, but a good opportunity if played right. Clearly there’s more to the story than she let on, but that’s fine. She can have her secrets. As for this Thomas Howler, I’ll have to do some work tonight. Maybe I can have the dreamers make a path to his home, or wherever he is at night. Hm. I should probably get some insurance, just in case.
The morning passed quickly as Garrett made his plans and dealt with some of the gang’s administrative work, and it was shortly after lunch that a group of twenty large men swaggered into the inn, clearly looking for trouble. Leading them was a pot-bellied man dressed in gaudy clothing and carrying a cane. A wide-brimmed hat sat on his head and his upper lip was graced with a waxed mustache. Stopping just inside the door, he looked around like he owned everything that his eyes touched, and when they saw Frankie, who was sitting at a table in the middle of the room with Garrett, his expression turned into a sneer.
Walking over, his goons trailing after him, the pot-bellied man slapped his cane down on the table, causing Frankie to jump. There were a bunch of members of the Family in the inn, and all of them stood up when the cane slapped against the table, their glares piercing the group that had entered, but that didn’t seem to faze them. Instead, they just stared back, coats opening to reveal the short blades they carried. Slowly putting down his spoon, Garrett looked at his spilled soup with a frown before looking up.
“You spilled my soup.”
Ignoring Garrett, Thomas Howler pointed his cane at Frankie from across the table.
“You cut up one of my boys pretty badly, kid. No one is allowed to do that. The punishment is one of those meaty hands of yours. You want to take it off, or do you need our help?”
Hearing Thomas speak of such violence so casually, Garrett had flashbacks to his encounters with Henrick. Next to him, Frankie was cowering, clearly intimidated, so Garrett patted him on the shoulder encouragingly before addressing the leader of the Howlers again.
“You must be Thomas Howler. I’ve heard about you.”
A flash of irritation flickered across Thomas’ face, but the glare he was getting from Obe, who had risen from the other side of the table, prevented him from lashing out. Looking down at Garrett, he took in the young nobleman’s missing arm and wheelchair and a disdainful sneer crossed his lips.
“And you must be that cripple Henrick tried to murder.”
“The name is Garret Klein. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Howler.”
“You’ll crawl back into your hole and pretend you know nothing, if you know what’s good for you,” Thomas said, his sneer deepening.
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” a deep voice said from behind Thomas, causing him to whirl around.
Standing in the doorway was a mountain of a man with ten other, equally large, men behind him. The similarities between Frankie and his father Gavon were easily apparent, though it was clear that Frankie hadn’t inherited his father’s imposing presence. Gavon was close to six foot, seven inches tall, and his shoulders were so wide he had to turn himself to the side to step through the doorway. A leather vest flecked with dried blood covered his stained linen shirt, and the heavy belt with a dozen massive cleavers hanging from it gave the impression that he had just stepped off the floor of the meat processing plant.
Feeling the aura rolling off of Gavon, Garrett judged him to be a mid-level lighting Awakener, stronger than most but not anywhere near the shaping stage. Thomas Howler was also at that level, as was Obe, while the other four Awakened who had come with the Howlers were all in the early stages of lighting, making them only a bit stronger than the thugs with Gavon. Entirely forgotten, Garrett watched the confrontation with interest, taking in everything.
“Gavon.”
Thomas Howler’s expression morphed from irritation into a hard anger, clearly upset to see the massive butcher. Gavon was glaring back at him with just as much intensity, and as he walked close his hand strayed to his belt where he hooked his meaty thumb behind the thick leather band, only inches from the handle of his favorite cleaver.
“Howler.”
For a moment they stared at each other while their subordinates postured. Just when Garrett was wondering if he should say something, Gavon spoke, his deep voice filling the room.
“Tricks like this are low, even for you. If you touch my son, I won’t rest until you and all of your men have gotten the chance to run through our grinder.”
“You really think I care about that brat?” Thomas said, spitting to the side.
Taking a step forward, a terrifying feeling suddenly rippled up his back and he felt as if the temperature in the room suddenly plunged. From the way Gavon’s face paled as well, it was clear that the feeling was not just in his imagination, but it was gone as fast as it had arrived, leaving the entire room shrouded in silence. A light cough sounded, causing both gang leaders to turn and look at Garrett, who looked slightly sheepish.
“Please don’t spit inside the Dreamer’s Inn,” Garrett said, waving his hand. “You can continue.”
Garrett had not intended to disrupt the conversation, but seeing the glob of phlegm hit the ground, his annoyance had spiked, causing all of the flowers in the inn to suddenly turn their attention to Thomas Howler. The mental pressure had been so intense that even Gavon had felt it, and Garrett was sure that if Thomas had not been Awakened, he would have fallen unconscious on the spot. As it was, the two Awakened men had completely lost their desire to fight and were looking around nervously, trying to find the source of the pressure they had felt. Not finding anything, Thomas shot an annoyed glare at Garrett and sniffed as he turned back to Gavon.
“Count yourself lucky,” he said, pushing past the giant butcher. “You better keep that kid of yours close.”
Though Gavon could have stopped him, the leader of Delver’s Butchers didn’t actually want a fight, especially since there seemed to be a high-level Awakened nearby. Instead, he just snorted at Thomas’ threat and watched him leave before turning and walking to the table where Garrett was sitting. Frankie, who was next to Garrett, was looking even more nervous now that he was facing his father than he had been with Thomas. Ignoring his son, Gavon nodded to Obe.
“Obe, thanks for sending word over.”
“Thank the boss, not me,” Obe said, jerking a thumb toward Garrett. “He’s the one who told me to let you know. I was going to leave your kid to fend for himself.”
Shifting his attention to Garrett, Gavon found himself curious. The crippled nobleman in front of him looked like a regular mortal, but there was also something slightly unnerving about him that set off warning bells in Gavon’s head. Realizing he was staring, he quickly nodded his head toward Garrett.
“Thank you.”
“It’s our pleasure. Frankie ran into our territory, so we couldn’t just stand by and let the Howlers take him.”
“If you had, no one would have blamed you,” Gavon said, half under his breath as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “From your message, it sounds like you had something you wanted to talk to me about.”
“I do,” Garrett nodded. “But if you’d be more comfortable, we can go to the office.”
“No need. Anything that needs to be said can be said in front of my men.”
“An admirable mentality. In that case, I’ll cut to the chase. Do you know what this is?”
Looking at the pin Garrett had placed on the table, Gavon’s eyes narrowed slightly and he nodded.
“I’ve seen them around. Your territory butts up against the bottom of Heifer Street. It’s not often, but we see your gang hanging out there sometimes.”
“Not gang, but family,” Garrett corrected with a slight smile. “If you’ve encountered our symbol, you probably understand that we’re not a gang in the regular sense. You might say we’re a group of concerned citizens who work for the good of those under our care. In many ways, we’re similar to you. Is it true that Delver Horn started Delver’s Butchers as a way to help you all keep your jobs?”
A deep emotion ran through Gavon’s expression at the mention of Delver Horn, and he nodded heavily.
“That’s right. It must be thirty-five years ago now. I was just a kid myself when the owner of the plant drank himself to death and the whole place was going to be sold to creditors. That would have meant we were all out of a job, so Delver decided to take things into his own hands. He organized us to take up the plant, and we’ve run it together ever since.”
“That’s amazing,” Garrett said, “and a testament to your strength that you’ve been able to survive in the city since then. However, I think it’s time for a change.”
Garrett’s words brought a grim look to Gavon’s face and the large butcher leaned forward, one meaty hand resting on the table while the other dropped to the handle of his cleaver.
“Do you? And what kind of change did you have in mind?”
As if he couldn’t feel the pressure rolling off of Gavon, Garrett flashed a smile and tapped the five-petaled flower pin on the table.
“I think you should join the Family.”
8
The tension in the room could have been cut by a knife, and for a second Garrett thought it might be. Showing immense self-control, Gavon didn’t draw his cleaver, despite his hand closing around the weapon’s handle. It may have been the glare Obe had fixed on him, but it was more likely the calm curiosity he saw in Garrett’s eyes. The strange feeling Gavon had been getting from Garrett intensified as they stared at each other and it caused him to let go of his weapon, bringing his hand into sight on the table.
“You are the first person I have mentioned this to,” Garrett said, when he was sure Gavon was not going to resort to violence, “but eventually everyone will know. Our Family is tired of being pushed around, so we’re banding together to resist those who would bully and terrorize us. Everyone is welcome to join, and so long as they follow our simple rules, we will support them. Since our Family and your group have such similar thoughts about how the people who live under our care should be treated, I think it makes sense for you to combine your power with ours.”
Slowly, the hard look on Gavon’s face softened, and he let out a sigh as he shook his head.
“I don’t know if you’re naive or just foolish, but your words could easily have been taken as a declaration of war. Our gang is not one to get involved in fights that aren’t our own, but we will not bow to anyone. No matter how strong they are.”
“I’m not asking you to bow,” Garrett said, only to get cut off by Gavon’s wave.
Staring at Garrett, the butcher tapped one of his fingers on the table, producing a dull thud that caused the room to fall silent.
“You were forthright with me, so I’ll give you the same courtesy. We have enough problems right now keeping ourselves safe from the Grave Walkers. Those pale freaks are starting to spread their influence south, and we’re right in their way. To top it off, Howler is now breathing down our throats. It’s not that we don’t want support, but you’re in no position to give anyone any help. You’re in an even weaker position than we are. You have one Awakened? We have four. But Howler has eight, and the Grave Walkers have at least twenty if not more. Even if we joined forces, we’d just be giving the other gangs the excuse to attack.”
Bristling, Obe slapped the table and stood up.
“We have—”
“That’s enough, Obe.”
Gavon was startled when he heard Obe fall silent. He had no idea what the relationship between Obe and Garrett was, but seeing such instant obedience just reinforced that something was not as it seemed. Garrett didn’t seem to notice the strange look he was getting and instead just thought for a moment.
“What will convince you that we’re strong enough for you to come under our banner?”
The question stumped Gavon, and he just stared at Garrett, unable to come up with an answer. Chuckling at the butcher’s dumbfounded expression, Garrett picked up the flower pin on the table and turned it over in his fingers as he answered his own question.
“We will not stop our expansion any time soon, and eventually that means that Heifer Street will be inside the territory we claim. But we have no desire for conflict with you. Instead, we would like it if you simply continue on as you have, while also including us as a customer. Given that it will be easier to align our interests if we are part of the same team, I’d like to suggest you join the Family. However, I also understand that our current strength is not inspiring.
“While that will change shortly, I’d like to offer a deal. I will deal with Thomas Howler and his gang on your behalf, and in exchange you will consider bringing your group to join the Family. You’ll maintain your own identity and will be responsible for continuing to take care of yourselves, but you’ll do it under the umbrella of the Klein Family. As time progresses, there will be others like you who bring their gangs to join the Family, and so there will be significant benefit in being one of the earliest to join.”
Letting out a low whistle, Gavon leaned back in his chair.
“You’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that. You’re talking about making a syndicate.”
“I am.”
“That’s a tall order. I’m curious to see where you get your confidence from.”
“Then we have a deal?”
Laughing, Gavon pushed his chair back and stood up, giving a short nod as he stared down at Garrett.
“Sure. If you deal with Thomas Howler and his goons for us, we’ll consider joining your syndicate.”
“Don’t forget what you’ve said,” Garrett replied. “Thank you for your visit today. We have somewhere to be shortly, but I look forward to speaking again.”
Untroubled by the dismissal, Gavon waved for his son to follow him and led his men out of the inn, stopping outside to glance back at Garrett. He could see the thin young man sitting at the table, and as he looked Garrett suddenly turned his head, meeting his gaze. The faintest feeling of horror trickled through the back of Gavon’s mind, and he felt as if the giant inn had suddenly transformed into a beast about to devour him. Stumbling back a step, he pressed his hand to his chest to calm his beating heart and hurried off.
From his seat in the inn, Garrett watched him go, a speculative look in his eyes. Gavon had been much more sensitive than Garrett had anticipated, and a few times it appeared he might have let his cover slip. Thankfully, ever since he had risen to the Shaper stage, the restrictions on using his abilities during the daytime had started to lift, and while they were not completely accessible, Garrett had been able to keep himself hidden with Dreamer’s Cloak. While it didn’t make him hard to see like it did in the dream, he found it useful for shrouding his strength against prying eyes.
The promise of food seemed to perk Frankie up, and he jumped up, bobbing his head toward Garrett before following Corig out to the kitchen. Obe jerked his head and the other gang members trailed behind the young man to keep an eye on him. Once they had all left, he looked at Garrett, his expression slightly skeptical. Garrett could read the question on Obe’s face, so he straightened the papers on his desk and took out a file, gesturing for Obe to approach and take a look. Blinking at the dizzying numbers that covered the top sheet, Obe let out a grunt and sat down, his eyes resting on Garrett.
“Are we really making a move?”
“We already have,” Garrett replied, his expression nonchalant. “It’s almost time for the second phase. Please let Gavon know that his son is here.”
“What are we to do about Howler’s men? They’re combing the city, and if we’re not careful they’ll find out where he is.”
“Nothing. Just ignore them for the moment.”
“You sure that’s wise, boss? Thomas Howler is a nasty piece of work, and if we stick our nose into this, we’ll be asking for trouble.”
Slowly nodding, Garrett lifted the sheet of paper he had already shown Obe, shaking it in the air.
“This is a rough estimate of the production schedule for the meat processing plant. Until the city was locked, it was responsible for a full quarter of the city’s meat. That’s too big a prize to let go. Food stability is one of the main things we need to establish, and we won’t get a much better opportunity. Even more importantly, it gives us a chance to pick a fight with Mr. Howler.”
“Wait, you want to pick a fight with the Howlers?”
“Just Mr. Howler,” Garrett said, putting the paper down and looking across the desk at Obe, a faint smile on his lips. “A lesson for you, Obe. When you are faced with an opponent, always understand their constraints. The Howlers have more Awakened than we do, but they don’t style themselves as a gang, which limits what they can do. They don’t have the luxury of a gang brawl, and any major action they take will be under the scrutiny of the guards. We can leverage that against them.”
“You have more confidence than I do,” Obe grumbled, shaking his head.
“Just trust me, Obe. Can you let Gavon of Delver’s Butchers know that we have his son? Tell him he can come pick up Frankie any time.”
Rising from the chair, Obe nodded and headed for the door, stopping as he reached it. Looking over his shoulder, he looked like he wanted to say something, and Garrett could feel the mix of anxious and doubtful feelings through the connection they shared. Pretending he hadn’t noticed, Garrett sent out a thread of calm, causing the four-bloom flower in Obe’s mind to settle down, which in turn helped Obe relax slightly. Shaking his head, Obe never ended up saying anything, and a moment later Garrett was alone in the office.
Closing his eyes, Garrett checked through the hundreds of connections he had, looking for abnormalities or dangers. This had become a habit of his as the network of flowers grew, and it had been proving to be a tremendous way to get information. Even during the day he could pick up traces of information here and there, which is how he had managed to figure out where Frankie was hiding so quickly. Not finding anything of particular note, Garrett took out a piece of paper and added a few notes to it.
Ryn’s history is unexpected, but a good opportunity if played right. Clearly there’s more to the story than she let on, but that’s fine. She can have her secrets. As for this Thomas Howler, I’ll have to do some work tonight. Maybe I can have the dreamers make a path to his home, or wherever he is at night. Hm. I should probably get some insurance, just in case.
The morning passed quickly as Garrett made his plans and dealt with some of the gang’s administrative work, and it was shortly after lunch that a group of twenty large men swaggered into the inn, clearly looking for trouble. Leading them was a pot-bellied man dressed in gaudy clothing and carrying a cane. A wide-brimmed hat sat on his head and his upper lip was graced with a waxed mustache. Stopping just inside the door, he looked around like he owned everything that his eyes touched, and when they saw Frankie, who was sitting at a table in the middle of the room with Garrett, his expression turned into a sneer.
Walking over, his goons trailing after him, the pot-bellied man slapped his cane down on the table, causing Frankie to jump. There were a bunch of members of the Family in the inn, and all of them stood up when the cane slapped against the table, their glares piercing the group that had entered, but that didn’t seem to faze them. Instead, they just stared back, coats opening to reveal the short blades they carried. Slowly putting down his spoon, Garrett looked at his spilled soup with a frown before looking up.
“You spilled my soup.”
Ignoring Garrett, Thomas Howler pointed his cane at Frankie from across the table.
“You cut up one of my boys pretty badly, kid. No one is allowed to do that. The punishment is one of those meaty hands of yours. You want to take it off, or do you need our help?”
Hearing Thomas speak of such violence so casually, Garrett had flashbacks to his encounters with Henrick. Next to him, Frankie was cowering, clearly intimidated, so Garrett patted him on the shoulder encouragingly before addressing the leader of the Howlers again.
“You must be Thomas Howler. I’ve heard about you.”
A flash of irritation flickered across Thomas’ face, but the glare he was getting from Obe, who had risen from the other side of the table, prevented him from lashing out. Looking down at Garrett, he took in the young nobleman’s missing arm and wheelchair and a disdainful sneer crossed his lips.
“And you must be that cripple Henrick tried to murder.”
“The name is Garret Klein. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Howler.”
“You’ll crawl back into your hole and pretend you know nothing, if you know what’s good for you,” Thomas said, his sneer deepening.
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” a deep voice said from behind Thomas, causing him to whirl around.
Standing in the doorway was a mountain of a man with ten other, equally large, men behind him. The similarities between Frankie and his father Gavon were easily apparent, though it was clear that Frankie hadn’t inherited his father’s imposing presence. Gavon was close to six foot, seven inches tall, and his shoulders were so wide he had to turn himself to the side to step through the doorway. A leather vest flecked with dried blood covered his stained linen shirt, and the heavy belt with a dozen massive cleavers hanging from it gave the impression that he had just stepped off the floor of the meat processing plant.
Feeling the aura rolling off of Gavon, Garrett judged him to be a mid-level lighting Awakener, stronger than most but not anywhere near the shaping stage. Thomas Howler was also at that level, as was Obe, while the other four Awakened who had come with the Howlers were all in the early stages of lighting, making them only a bit stronger than the thugs with Gavon. Entirely forgotten, Garrett watched the confrontation with interest, taking in everything.
“Gavon.”
Thomas Howler’s expression morphed from irritation into a hard anger, clearly upset to see the massive butcher. Gavon was glaring back at him with just as much intensity, and as he walked close his hand strayed to his belt where he hooked his meaty thumb behind the thick leather band, only inches from the handle of his favorite cleaver.
“Howler.”
For a moment they stared at each other while their subordinates postured. Just when Garrett was wondering if he should say something, Gavon spoke, his deep voice filling the room.
“Tricks like this are low, even for you. If you touch my son, I won’t rest until you and all of your men have gotten the chance to run through our grinder.”
“You really think I care about that brat?” Thomas said, spitting to the side.
Taking a step forward, a terrifying feeling suddenly rippled up his back and he felt as if the temperature in the room suddenly plunged. From the way Gavon’s face paled as well, it was clear that the feeling was not just in his imagination, but it was gone as fast as it had arrived, leaving the entire room shrouded in silence. A light cough sounded, causing both gang leaders to turn and look at Garrett, who looked slightly sheepish.
“Please don’t spit inside the Dreamer’s Inn,” Garrett said, waving his hand. “You can continue.”
Garrett had not intended to disrupt the conversation, but seeing the glob of phlegm hit the ground, his annoyance had spiked, causing all of the flowers in the inn to suddenly turn their attention to Thomas Howler. The mental pressure had been so intense that even Gavon had felt it, and Garrett was sure that if Thomas had not been Awakened, he would have fallen unconscious on the spot. As it was, the two Awakened men had completely lost their desire to fight and were looking around nervously, trying to find the source of the pressure they had felt. Not finding anything, Thomas shot an annoyed glare at Garrett and sniffed as he turned back to Gavon.
“Count yourself lucky,” he said, pushing past the giant butcher. “You better keep that kid of yours close.”
Though Gavon could have stopped him, the leader of Delver’s Butchers didn’t actually want a fight, especially since there seemed to be a high-level Awakened nearby. Instead, he just snorted at Thomas’ threat and watched him leave before turning and walking to the table where Garrett was sitting. Frankie, who was next to Garrett, was looking even more nervous now that he was facing his father than he had been with Thomas. Ignoring his son, Gavon nodded to Obe.
“Obe, thanks for sending word over.”
“Thank the boss, not me,” Obe said, jerking a thumb toward Garrett. “He’s the one who told me to let you know. I was going to leave your kid to fend for himself.”
Shifting his attention to Garrett, Gavon found himself curious. The crippled nobleman in front of him looked like a regular mortal, but there was also something slightly unnerving about him that set off warning bells in Gavon’s head. Realizing he was staring, he quickly nodded his head toward Garrett.
“Thank you.”
“It’s our pleasure. Frankie ran into our territory, so we couldn’t just stand by and let the Howlers take him.”
“If you had, no one would have blamed you,” Gavon said, half under his breath as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “From your message, it sounds like you had something you wanted to talk to me about.”
“I do,” Garrett nodded. “But if you’d be more comfortable, we can go to the office.”
“No need. Anything that needs to be said can be said in front of my men.”
“An admirable mentality. In that case, I’ll cut to the chase. Do you know what this is?”
Looking at the pin Garrett had placed on the table, Gavon’s eyes narrowed slightly and he nodded.
“I’ve seen them around. Your territory butts up against the bottom of Heifer Street. It’s not often, but we see your gang hanging out there sometimes.”
“Not gang, but family,” Garrett corrected with a slight smile. “If you’ve encountered our symbol, you probably understand that we’re not a gang in the regular sense. You might say we’re a group of concerned citizens who work for the good of those under our care. In many ways, we’re similar to you. Is it true that Delver Horn started Delver’s Butchers as a way to help you all keep your jobs?”
A deep emotion ran through Gavon’s expression at the mention of Delver Horn, and he nodded heavily.
“That’s right. It must be thirty-five years ago now. I was just a kid myself when the owner of the plant drank himself to death and the whole place was going to be sold to creditors. That would have meant we were all out of a job, so Delver decided to take things into his own hands. He organized us to take up the plant, and we’ve run it together ever since.”
“That’s amazing,” Garrett said, “and a testament to your strength that you’ve been able to survive in the city since then. However, I think it’s time for a change.”
Garrett’s words brought a grim look to Gavon’s face and the large butcher leaned forward, one meaty hand resting on the table while the other dropped to the handle of his cleaver.
“Do you? And what kind of change did you have in mind?”
As if he couldn’t feel the pressure rolling off of Gavon, Garrett flashed a smile and tapped the five-petaled flower pin on the table.
“I think you should join the Family.”
8
The tension in the room could have been cut by a knife, and for a second Garrett thought it might be. Showing immense self-control, Gavon didn’t draw his cleaver, despite his hand closing around the weapon’s handle. It may have been the glare Obe had fixed on him, but it was more likely the calm curiosity he saw in Garrett’s eyes. The strange feeling Gavon had been getting from Garrett intensified as they stared at each other and it caused him to let go of his weapon, bringing his hand into sight on the table.
“You are the first person I have mentioned this to,” Garrett said, when he was sure Gavon was not going to resort to violence, “but eventually everyone will know. Our Family is tired of being pushed around, so we’re banding together to resist those who would bully and terrorize us. Everyone is welcome to join, and so long as they follow our simple rules, we will support them. Since our Family and your group have such similar thoughts about how the people who live under our care should be treated, I think it makes sense for you to combine your power with ours.”
Slowly, the hard look on Gavon’s face softened, and he let out a sigh as he shook his head.
“I don’t know if you’re naive or just foolish, but your words could easily have been taken as a declaration of war. Our gang is not one to get involved in fights that aren’t our own, but we will not bow to anyone. No matter how strong they are.”
“I’m not asking you to bow,” Garrett said, only to get cut off by Gavon’s wave.
Staring at Garrett, the butcher tapped one of his fingers on the table, producing a dull thud that caused the room to fall silent.
“You were forthright with me, so I’ll give you the same courtesy. We have enough problems right now keeping ourselves safe from the Grave Walkers. Those pale freaks are starting to spread their influence south, and we’re right in their way. To top it off, Howler is now breathing down our throats. It’s not that we don’t want support, but you’re in no position to give anyone any help. You’re in an even weaker position than we are. You have one Awakened? We have four. But Howler has eight, and the Grave Walkers have at least twenty if not more. Even if we joined forces, we’d just be giving the other gangs the excuse to attack.”
Bristling, Obe slapped the table and stood up.
“We have—”
“That’s enough, Obe.”
Gavon was startled when he heard Obe fall silent. He had no idea what the relationship between Obe and Garrett was, but seeing such instant obedience just reinforced that something was not as it seemed. Garrett didn’t seem to notice the strange look he was getting and instead just thought for a moment.
“What will convince you that we’re strong enough for you to come under our banner?”
The question stumped Gavon, and he just stared at Garrett, unable to come up with an answer. Chuckling at the butcher’s dumbfounded expression, Garrett picked up the flower pin on the table and turned it over in his fingers as he answered his own question.
“We will not stop our expansion any time soon, and eventually that means that Heifer Street will be inside the territory we claim. But we have no desire for conflict with you. Instead, we would like it if you simply continue on as you have, while also including us as a customer. Given that it will be easier to align our interests if we are part of the same team, I’d like to suggest you join the Family. However, I also understand that our current strength is not inspiring.
“While that will change shortly, I’d like to offer a deal. I will deal with Thomas Howler and his gang on your behalf, and in exchange you will consider bringing your group to join the Family. You’ll maintain your own identity and will be responsible for continuing to take care of yourselves, but you’ll do it under the umbrella of the Klein Family. As time progresses, there will be others like you who bring their gangs to join the Family, and so there will be significant benefit in being one of the earliest to join.”
Letting out a low whistle, Gavon leaned back in his chair.
“You’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that. You’re talking about making a syndicate.”
“I am.”
“That’s a tall order. I’m curious to see where you get your confidence from.”
“Then we have a deal?”
Laughing, Gavon pushed his chair back and stood up, giving a short nod as he stared down at Garrett.
“Sure. If you deal with Thomas Howler and his goons for us, we’ll consider joining your syndicate.”
“Don’t forget what you’ve said,” Garrett replied. “Thank you for your visit today. We have somewhere to be shortly, but I look forward to speaking again.”
Untroubled by the dismissal, Gavon waved for his son to follow him and led his men out of the inn, stopping outside to glance back at Garrett. He could see the thin young man sitting at the table, and as he looked Garrett suddenly turned his head, meeting his gaze. The faintest feeling of horror trickled through the back of Gavon’s mind, and he felt as if the giant inn had suddenly transformed into a beast about to devour him. Stumbling back a step, he pressed his hand to his chest to calm his beating heart and hurried off.
From his seat in the inn, Garrett watched him go, a speculative look in his eyes. Gavon had been much more sensitive than Garrett had anticipated, and a few times it appeared he might have let his cover slip. Thankfully, ever since he had risen to the Shaper stage, the restrictions on using his abilities during the daytime had started to lift, and while they were not completely accessible, Garrett had been able to keep himself hidden with Dreamer’s Cloak. While it didn’t make him hard to see like it did in the dream, he found it useful for shrouding his strength against prying eyes.
