Dreamer's Throne

Across the city, dozens of people watched the wave of undead unfold, keeping tabs on this deadly new development. In a small room in the Adventurer's Guild, the guild master sat, staring into a pool of water shrouded in a blue glow that showed snippets of scenes from the Northern Wall. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the growing wave of zombies climbing up it and falling down the other side into the royal graveyard.

"Have you warned everybody to be careful?" he asked, turning to look at one of his lieutenants.

"As best we're able without starting a panic," the woman replied, nodding.

"No point in that anymore," Arthur Tellson said, shaking his head. "The entire district's going to be thrown into a panic in a moment. Tell as many adventurers as you are able that we've got a problem, and to ready their gear."

Nodding, the woman hurried to the door before pausing.

"Should we send them out into the streets?" his second-in-command asked, her hand on the doorknob.

Thinking for a moment, Tellson shook his head, a mean grin stretching across his face.

"No, we'll step in once things get bad. If the city guard hasn't reacted yet, chances are they're going to be a step too late, which means we can swoop in and save the day once the damage grows. If we move now, we won’t be able to get as much credit as if we step in after the zombies have done some damage. Just tell everybody to be ready for my command."

Unbeknownst to him, a similar conversation was happening across the city, at the headquarters of the city guard. A stern-looking general watched a map of the city, his eyes fixed in the northern quarter where faint red lights could be seen rapidly amassing. This mysterious artifact was one of the city guard’s most powerful, and allowed them to track major threats to the city. As he watched, a section of the city wall turned completely red, indicating that it had fallen, but his cold expression didn’t so much as twitch.

"And they're all zombies?" he asked his adjunct, who nodded.

"Yes, sir. So far, we haven't seen any bigger undead."

"Hmm. No doubt they'll come. Those scum like throwing their larger creations into the mix once the fighting really gets going. Gather our forces and split them between the low and high bridges. We absolutely cannot allow this wave of undead across. Once we stabilize our defenses, we’ll push across to eliminate the necromancers."

"And the people in the district, sir?" his adjunct asked, his face pale.

"They'll have to do their best on their own," came the firm reply. "Once we see the larger undead begin to manifest, we'll move in. Tell the knights to mount up as they’ll be leading the charge to clear the streets. We need to be able to move at a moment's notice."

Though he clearly didn't like the answer the general gave, the adjunct bowed his head.

"Yes, sir. I'll let them know."

In the northern district, in the top room of a guard post, Captain Jonas Fernek had just laid down to sleep when he found himself standing in a simple room. He had been in the Dream often enough recently that he immediately knew what was happening, and even if he hadn’t, the door in front of him holding a single five-petaled flower motif would have given it away. The flower on the door seemed to call to him, and with fear in his heart he reached for the doorknob. Stepping through the door led him to a small room where he found a man in strange clothes and a white mask waiting for him.

"Good evening, Captain," Garrett said, bowing slightly. "I'm glad to see that you're well. Thank you for answering my summons."

Thinking to himself that he didn't have a choice, Captain Fernek muttered something under his breath and looked around. There was nothing else in the room, and even the walls seemed to fade into a fog, as if they were there one moment and gone the next. It added a frightening air to the already creepy encounter but the captain tried his best to maintain a calm front. Though he had recently awoken his soul spark, drastically increasing his strength, Captain Fernek still found himself entirely subdued by the figure in front of him. There was no way he could forget the terrifying spirit the masked man commanded, and even now the memory caused him to shudder.

"What do you need?" he asked, his voice shaking despite his best efforts.

"At the moment, nothing," Garrett replied, "though it's kind of you to ask. Tonight I've called you to let you know about something else. There's an undead uprising that is beginning as we speak. You would be wise to marshal your men and set your defenses. Within the hour, this district will be overrun with undead. My suggestion is to gather as many people as you can at the prison or another defensible spot. The guard posts are too isolated and will fall if you're not able to reinforce them, which you won’t be able to do if you yourself are surrounded by zombies. If you're not able to coordinate your defenses the district will fall before the central command will be able to provide relief. However, if you can, you will be able to make up for the trouble you’ve gotten yourself in recently. I will be in touch with further developments. Good luck."

With a flash, the dream ended, and Captain Fernek bolted upright, his breath coming in great gasps. The last thing he had seen before Garrett had kicked him out of the dream was a sight of the northeastern wall being overrun by countless zombies. With shaking hands, he pulled on his clothes, not bothering to straighten his vest as he rushed out of his room. Though the masked man had not been explicit or even issued a command, the captain knew exactly what he needed to do.

"Sound the alarm," he yelled. "We're under attack!"

The men on duty stared at him in complete confusion until he grabbed one by the collar and shook him.

"Don't question, just do what I say! Sound the all-city alarm, an undead wave has started!"

Gasps rose from the city guard in the room, and the commotion started to attract the others who had been sleeping upstairs.

"Captain, what are you talking about?" one of them asked.

But Fernek didn't reply, instead racing to the door and throwing it open. The storm raged outside, giving him pause, but there was a certainty in his mind that went far beyond the terrible weather. The masked man was right. Each of the city guard outposts held 10 to 20 guards, and if there was indeed a wave of undead coming, they would quickly be overrun. The only chance was to gather together into a larger group and fight as a whole. The city had protocol for times like these, though whether the guards would remember it, he had no idea. But that didn't matter. All that mattered now was sounding the alarm. Turning around, he saw that his men were still staring at him, and he practically screamed, his finger pointing directly at the first lieutenant who had spoken to him earlier.

"I told you to sound the alarm, now! The attack's coming from the northeast, in the graveyard. Everyone, grab your weapons! We're heading towards the prison!"

Back at Dreamers Inn, the faint clatter of a carriage cut through the sound of the storm, and a few moments later, Carraway and a number of people who worked for him piled into the room. Nearly unrecognizable compared to his previous fat self, Carraway was now rail-thin, and his eyes burned with deep passion. His manner of dress was simple, and gone was the golden jewelry he used to wear, replaced with a single five-petaled flower pin. It was clear that his life had been changed drastically by his cooperation with the Klein Family, and he hurried about, making sure that everyone was settled, before taking a seat himself next to Ryn.

Leaning over, he looked at her, and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, "Is it true? Is there really an undead wave coming?"

Taking a sip of her drink, Ryn nodded.

"Garrett says so, so chances are good. At this point, we're just waiting for them to breach the graveyard."

Garrett was keeping track of the conversation, along with thousands of others just like it that were happening across the Klein Family's territory. They had been preparing heavily for this day, and as much as could be done, had been done. He could feel his connection with Viper down in the deep crypts, but he had no attention to spare for what was happening there. Instead, all of his focus was honed in on the single moment of contact that would soon appear.

That moment happened when one of the Grave Walkers who was patrolling the royal graveyard saw a single zombie jumping down from the city wall. The city wall was high, much higher than the buildings in the city, and no man would be able to survive a fall from it. But after smashing into the ground, the zombie let out a deep moan and rose to its feet, red eyes fixing themselves on the Grave Walker. For a moment, man and undead stared at each other, and then both moved into action.

The undead zombie rushed forward, its fingers outstretched and teeth bared, a wild look on its face, while the Grave Walker's hand went to his belt, rising with a bell that he shook fiercely. At the same time, he lifted the small crossbow he was holding, and loosed a bolt from it. The bolt, tipped with a glowing silver head, tore through the zombie, burning away the filthy flesh that it touched and crushing the monster's spine. With a screech it fell to the ground, limbs flopping as it failed to control its body. Silver fire burned from the wound, rapidly spreading until it began to eat away at the zombie’s head.

Shaking his bell as best he could, the Grave Walker feared that the ringing of the bell wouldn’t be heard through the pounding rain, but a moment later an answering bell began to ring from a few hundred feet up the wall. The pounding storm made it hard to hear the bells, but as more and more of them joined, it became clear that something was wrong. Just when the Grave Walker thought that the message had been successfully passed on, a deep toll rang out over the city, cutting through the storm with ease as the city guard's emergency alarm was sounded.

Across the royal graveyard the Grave Walkers were confused, they had no idea how the city guard had learned of their plight so quickly, but it didn't matter. So long as the guards knew of the attack their primary job was done. Now it was just a matter of killing as many zombies as they could. Hooking the bell he had been ringing on his belt the Grave Walker raced forward, hoping to retrieve the bolt he had fired. The tips they used were blessed and highly effective against the undead, but they were hard to come by. He only had a dozen of them, and was hoping to reuse them as many times as possible. Unfortunately, before he could retrieve it, more zombies began to fall from the wall, landing on the ground at the foot of the giant wall. Looking up, he saw a sight that horrified him. Hundreds of zombies were crawling their way headfirst down the wall, their eyes like points of flame flickering in the darkness.

Realizing that to stay was to condemn himself to death, he abandoned his bolt and fled back into the graveyard. More and more zombies began to jump down and all around him, he could hear the ringing of the bells as his companions engaged with the zombie wave. The city guards' alarm mixed with the cracks of thunder that rolled across the city. All across the district, people froze as they heard the alarm sounding. It had been years since the alarm had been used, and many people didn't even remember what it was for. But word rapidly spread that something was wrong, and anyone who had been mad enough to be out in the storm quickly raced home.

Garrett, who was watching all of this from the Dreamer's Throne, smiled to himself. Agma-Yoth's attention would be primarily fixed on him and the Dreamer’s Inn where he was staying, but unlike the great ruler who was stuck deep in the catacombs in a coffin, Garrett had a lot more flexibility. His goal was to focus the attacker's attention on him and the inn, while using the various forces in the city as a buffer to buy him more time. This fight was largely going to be about whether or not their defenses held, but Garrett was confident that they'd be able to hold on as long as they needed to.

The inn sat along a long avenue that stretched all the way to the southwestern wall of the royal graveyard. Heavy barricades that had been built in the last few weeks were being pulled out into the street, providing multiple lines of defense to prevent the zombies from having an easy path. With these roads blocked off, the zombies would either be forced to wind their way through the maze of buildings around the blockades, which would make them easier targets, or they'd have to go a considerable way around. That, in turn, would put them into the other gang's territories.

And while it wasn't Garrett's primary intention to force the other gangs to fight, they would take considerable pressure off of the Klein Family forces. Through Isabelle's eyes, he watched as the zombies continued to push deeper into the royal graveyard. There were still thousands of zombies climbing the wall into the city, but Garrett was more focused on the fight happening between the Grave Walkers and the zombies. Part of him felt like he should probably send help to assist them, but he was also gratified to see that they were holding surprisingly well. All of the Grave Walkers were people who had either had experience fighting undead or been trained to hunt them, and so as a first line of defense, they were quite effective.

They held weapons that had been blessed to deal with the undead, and understood how zombies operated so they had drawn their defense line at key intersections in the royal crypts and were defending them fiercely. Isabelle floated high above, keeping her eyes open for signs of the necromancers that drove the undead. Garrett had not forgotten that the Black Hand, Agma-Yoth's loyal worshipers, would have to be nearby to control the mass of undead. Zombies by themselves were not very dangerous, but when driven into a frenzy by a necromancer's curse, they became a powerful force.