Dreamer's Throne

The princess didn't respond immediately, her brow furrowing as if she was considering the baron's words intently. He didn't pressure her either, calmly waiting until she was done mulling over what he had said. In reality, the princess was listening to a voice in her head, and when it finally fell silent, she took a deep breath, peeking at Garrett from the corner of her eyes. He wasn't looking at her or the baron, and was instead gazing down at his hand in his lap.

Recalling what he had instructed her to say, the princess hesitated. She knew, more than anyone, that she wasn't suited for these games of politics, and so, feeling as if she had no other choice, she decided to put her trust in Garrett's words.

"What if," she said quietly, "what if, instead, I offered to form a council, a parliament of sorts. As queen, I would hold veto rights, but, under normal circumstances, would make all decisions with the approval of the council."

Her suggestion caught Baron Gelavin off guard, and for a moment, he stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. Hidden behind that shock, however, was a thread of elation, quickly buried, as his face took on a wondering expression.

"That is an incredible offer, princess, and one that every noble, in their right mind, would jump toward. If you were truly willing to do such a thing, I don't see why it would be a problem at all to gather the nobles to your side."

When Garrett looked up, he caught the princess peeking at him, though she quickly looked away. The faintest of smiles crossed his face as he continued to listen to the princess and the baron talk about the idea. Garrett knew better than anyone that to do such a thing was to begin the end of the monarchy. After all, once they got their hands on power, the nobles would not give it up, for any reason. If the monarchy wanted the power back, they would have to pry it from the nobles' cold, dead fingers. Furthermore, once the nobility gained a taste of authority, there was no doubt that they would continue to desperately claw for more.

Under his suggestion, the princess would effectively become but a puppet ruler. As much as Garrett truly thought that this was the right path for the princess to pursue, he had also been testing her, checking to see if she was actually going to put her trust in him or not. She had, spitting out his idea word for word, and judging by the firm expression on her face, she had committed herself to seeing it through. Looking down again to hide his smile, Garrett knew he had won.

Garrett felt a bit of excitement bubbling in his chest for what was to come. It took Baron Gelavin and the Princess some time to lay out all of the details. Although the Princess was the one speaking, the Baron had no idea that he was actually talking to Garrett through her. As their conversation came to a close, Baron Gelavin turned to Garrett. A smile wasn't quite present on his face.

"I think we've come up with a good plan, but in order for this to work, we will still need support from others, including from the steward. I wonder if you might be able to assist with that, Garrett."

Meeting the Baron's gaze, Garrett nodded.

"I can certainly try. To be frank, my relationship with my father is strained. In fact, I'm not even sure he knows I'm alive. My experience left me scarred in more ways than one." As he spoke, Garrett lifted his arm to show his missing wrist and hand. "This was one of the main reasons that I didn't immediately return to the palace. If it will help the Princess, I'm willing to commit myself to doing whatever is needed."

"That's a good attitude to have," Baron Gelavin said. "Why don't you start by arranging a meeting with your father, under the guise of letting him know you're alive. After that, we can probe to see his thoughts on this matter. Though I imagine once he hears our proposal, he'll be completely on board."

Without waiting to see if Garrett would agree or not, the Baron turned his attention back to the Princess and stood.

"Princess, thank you for trusting me enough to come and see me. Soon, you won't have to hide anymore, and you'll be able to ascend to your rightful place as the Queen of Insomnium. I look forward to that day. For now, allow me to get to work."

Recognizing that she was being dismissed, the Princess stood and bowed slightly to the Baron. After saying her goodbyes, she led the way out to the carriage that was waiting for them. At Garrett's direction, Obe came to help him down the stairs, while Thomas escorted the Princess. The ride back to the inn was mostly quiet, as the Princess mulled over everything they had talked about.

As they were getting close to their destination, she finally looked up at Garrett, who was idly looking out of the window.

"Will this actually work?"

Though he knew exactly what she was talking about, Garrett raised his eyebrows as he turned his attention to her.

"Pardon? Will what work?"

"This plan," she said, not buying his expression for one moment.

"If you're asking about the Baron's plan, then no, but if you're asking about the plan that you suggested, most certainly."

Even though she clearly didn't believe him, the Princess found it impossible to argue in the face of his calm certainty, and before she could gather her words, they arrived at the inn and got out.

As soon as they did, Garrett knew something wasn't right. His main clue was Ryn's face as she stood by the door, waiting for them. After giving the Princess a cursory greeting, Ryn took over pushing Garrett's wheelchair from Obe and quickly brought him into his office. She hadn't even closed the door before she began to speak.

"That greedy gasbag, Parrow, has kicked all of our workers out of the factories. We're supposed to have access to them for another three weeks, but his foreman came and shut down our operation and threw all of the workers out, saying that they needed the factories for an extra large order of their own."

As she spoke, she paced back and forth across the room, clearly furious. "I knew using his factories was a terrible idea.”

“How long have we been making soap there?" Garrett asked.

"A week. Why?"

"And have we sold any of the soap?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"No," Ryn said. "We're still working through our stock. What's left of it, at least. We're going to run out in another day or so."

"And how long until Carraway is done with the repairs?" Garrett's calm voice helped Ryn take the edge off of her anger. Rather than continue pacing, she sat down in one of the high-backed chairs facing Garrett's desk.

"A week, maybe a little bit less, if they work multiple shifts."

"Have my orders been followed strictly?" Garrett asked, not looking up from the account book he had opened.

"What orders?" Ryn asked, “the orders regarding the soap that we've made in Parrow's factory?”

"I'd given the order that no one was to take scraps home."

"I believe so," Ryn said, her brow furrowing. "Isn't that the wrong thing to be focusing on, though? Sales have been building and we're about to run out of stock. Now, with getting kicked out of the factory, all the effort we spent to set up our production lines is going to go to waste, and we barely have more than a few batches made."

"It doesn't matter," Garrett said. "In fact, this is better. We need to give them an opportunity."

Completely lost, Ryn just stared at Garrett as he dipped his quill in the ink pot and made a few careful notes. Putting his pen down, he waited for the ink to dry before closing the ledger.

"Ryn," he called. Flinching as Garrett called her name, Ryn sat up straight. "If you wish for your enemy to fall into a pit, you have to have a pit. What we've been doing for the last month is digging that pit. Now we're providing the opportunity for Parrow to fall in."

"Why would he fall into a pit?" Ryn asked, still not following.

"Because he doesn't think it's a pit," Garrett said patiently. "He thinks that this is a golden opportunity to bury us, to steal our formula, to create knockoff goods and to undercut our business."

"He's not the only one who thinks that," Ryn said, grumbling.

"And that's exactly why this is going to work," Garrett replied. "Now let's get the carriage ready. We need to go visit the factory and this overseer who threw out our folks. At the same time, please send a message to Carraway informing him that the workers will be returning tomorrow."

Though she didn't quite understand what Garrett was doing, Ryn took a deep breath and nodded, leaving the office to go and set everything up. Garrett took a few moments to gather his thoughts in silence before slowly making his way out into the great room. Parrow had been an annoyance for too long and it was time to close out that particular problem.

The factory that Marcus Parrow had lent them was on the other side of the northern district. When Garrett and Ryn arrived, they found a crowd of workers standing outside of the door. Three heavily armed thugs stood in front of the doorway, blocking their path. A thin man with a ghost of a mustache and a permanent sneer stood behind the thugs, berating the workers. Tensions were high and Garrett saw more than a few city guard loitering nearby just in case things turned violent.

The crowd fell silent as they saw Garrett's carriage pull up, recognizing that their boss had finally come. As Ryn helped him down, the crowd parted, creating a path for Garrett and Ryn to approach the overseer. Since the workers had all moved back, the overseer stepped out from behind the three bruisers and looked down at Garrett.

"You must be Mr. Klein," he said, his voice nasal, "the employer of all of these miscreants."

"Is there a problem?" Garrett asked. "I'm being told that you've forced them to vacate the factory."

"Indeed. We require this factory for the production of our own goods, and as their timetable is quite tight, you will have to find another factory somewhere else."

"There must be some miscommunication," Garrett said. "I spoke with Marcus Parrow himself, and he assured me that we would have use of the facility for three weeks. It's barely been a week, and we've only just gotten our production line set up."

"Whether or not you had a conversation with Mr. Parrow is of no importance to me," the overseer said. "I've received my orders, and that is to clear you out of the factory. You're welcome to go and try and find Mr. Parrow, but my orders are clear."

Frowning slightly, Garrett turned to speak with the foreman who had been running the shift before the workers had gotten kicked out.

"I'll go and find Mr. Parrow and ask him what's going on. For now, why don't all of you head home, and I'll let you know what's going to happen tomorrow."

The foreman, an honest-looking man whose brown hair was thinning, clutched his hat in his hand as he bowed toward Garrett.

"Sir, all of our equipment is still in the factory. They won't let us retrieve it."

"Is this true?" Garrett asked the overseer.

"Anything in the factory belongs to Mr. Parrow," the overseer said, his sneer growing more distinct.

"That's not true, sir," the foreman replied. "We brought the majority of the equipment that's in there now. They didn't have any of it before we came."

"Preposterous," the overseer interrupted. "I will not tolerate this slander." As he spoke, the three large men all stepped forward.

Their gazes were ugly as they stared at the foreman and the workers around him. Feeling Ryn start to tense up, Garrett quickly held up his hand, calling for everyone to calm down.

"As I said, I'm sure that this is a misunderstanding," he said. His voice, layered with mental energy, seemed to put everyone who heard it into a slight stupor.

"Let's all take a step back," he continued. Thanks to the influence of his words, the workers slowly began to disperse, heading home, where they would wait for Garrett's news. The overseer just sneered and went back into the factory, taking the three thugs with him.

As they returned to the carriage, Garrett could tell that Ryn was boiling, and it was clear that if he didn't explain what was going on properly, she would likely take matters into her own hands. After directing the carriage to head to Parrow's house, Garrett reached over and patted Ryn on the knee.

"Do you remember the first conversation we had about Parrow?" he asked. As she thought back, some of Ryn's anger faded, and her brow furrowed as she recalled what they had talked about.

"Yes. I remember identifying that he was an incredibly meticulous person."

"Exactly. So meticulous that if there's any sign of a trap, he will immediately turn tail. We can't have that. So all of this is necessary.”

“You keep saying trap this and trap that, but I don't understand how giving Parrow an entire production line for free is a trap."

"Good," Garrett said. "That means he won't either."

Rolling her eyes, Ryn grumbled to herself, but even though Garrett wasn't sharing all of the details, he was confident enough that Ryn was able to calm down. She trusted almost no one in this world, but Garrett had never failed to carry through on his word. So, she figured she had no reason to start distrusting him now.

When they arrived at Parrow's mansion, Ryn got down from the carriage and went to the door. When it finally opened, a stern-faced butler greeted her, and after a few minutes of conversation, the door shut firmly, and she came back to the carriage. Her anger rekindled once more.

"He's not home?" Garrett asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, and even if he was, he wouldn't see the likes of us," Ryn said, mimicking what Garrett could only assume was the voice of the butler.

To her surprise, this caused Garrett to smile widely, though the expression was quickly wiped from his face as he returned to his normal calm.

Checkmate.