"If you're wasting my time, I'll throw you out right now," Henrick said, face warped in an angry grimace.
He was standing in the doorway of the small room, glaring down at Garrett. Ryn had helped Garret sit up before she went to get Henrick, and he was leaning with his back against the wall. Without being able to use his legs to brace himself, he had to use his left arm, leaving his right arm crossed across his lap. With a calmness that didn't suit his age, he matched gazes with the large innkeeper and spoke calmly.
"I'd like you to employ me. Pay Ryn and I in room and board, and I'll help you in return."
"Help me?" Henrick laughed derisively. "You can't even help yourself. How will you help me?"
"I know how to read, write, and handle numbers," Garrett said, his voice even. "I can help you with your books. I've been trained as a scribe and money counter."
The change that came over Henrick's wide face when Garrett finished speaking was stark, though even his smile couldn't mask the thread of suspicion in his eyes. While reading and writing weren't entirely uncommon, the ability to handle numbers was rarer. Almost everyone in the city learned enough basic math to handle the small amounts of money they dealt with on a daily basis, but anything more complicated than simple addition and subtraction typically required the services of a money counter, a specialized scribe trained in advanced math. On earth, a money counter would have been described as an accountant, though, from Garrett's memories of this world, few money counters would have ever made it as more than a basic clerk.
This was Garrett's first plan, and the one he hoped to use to grant himself the respite needed to get his bearings in the city. Money counters, like any other scribe, were difficult to come by in the slums and also cost a veritable fortune to hire. Henrick was clearly interested in the idea, though his skepticism grew as his eyes traced Garrett's missing hand.
"What can you do with a missing hand?" the innkeeper asked, pointing at Garrett's stump.
"My left hand works fine," Garrett replied. "So long as you give me a chair and a pen, I can show you."
Still suspicious, Henrick looked back and forth between Garrett and Ryn for a moment before he nodded.
"Fine. Come with me."
Turning, he was about to leave when he caught sight of a mocking smile on Garrett's lips. Anger surged across Henrick's face, causing his cheeks to flush red, but before he could explode he saw Garrett patting his unresponsive legs.
"You'll excuse me, sir, but my mobility leaves much to be desired. I'm afraid I can't go anywhere with anyone."
Disarmed by the clear self-derision in Garrett's voice, Henrick let out a short laugh and waved his hand toward the two large thugs who stood in the hall.
"Obe and Gorn can help you. Get him to my office."
"Yes, boss," the two thugs echoed in unison as they squeezed into the small room.
Grabbing Garrett's arms, they lifted him roughly, having no trouble holding him up as they dragged him out of the room, paying little attention as his legs scraped the ground. Undignified as it was, Garrett was too focused on other things to bother saying something. He'd occasionally gotten glimpses of the hall when the door opened, but as the two thugs carried him out he felt his mind still, as if struck by lightning.
The hallway was long and light filtered in from the window set at the other end. There was the same set of stairs leading up and down and the same two doors in the middle of the hall, forming an exact replica of what Garrett had seen in the Dream apart from an extra door that blocked off the stairs going down, presumably toward the basement. Furthermore, it only took him a moment to realize the two muscular men dragging him toward the first door were the two figures he'd seen in Henrick's office. His mind whirling as he considered the implications of what he was seeing, Garrett only snapped back to the present when he was roughly shoved into a chair.
Letting go of his arms, Obe and Gorn stepped back, smirking at him as he nearly fell from the chair. It was only Ryn, who'd followed the men into the office, who managed to catch his shirt, preventing him from tumbling face first to the floor. Giving her a grateful smile, Garrett looked down at the desk and a shiver ran through him. Sitting on the desk was the same open account book and stack of letters he'd examined only a little while before. Unbidden, his eyes darted toward the window, almost expecting to see the thick fog that had obscured his view in the Dream.
Instead, he saw a dirty alleyway that led down to what looked like a small bay. He could see the masts of ships poking up here or there, along with some buildings in the distance. The sunlight, though weak since it was still morning, caused the shadow of the building he was in to stretch across the street, meaning the inn he was sitting in was much larger than the surrounding wooden-and-brick buildings.
"These are the accounts, but before you touch them I want you to think long and hard about whether you really want to make the attempt. If you're lying to me about being a money counter, you'll find yourself taking a short swim in the river with your hands tied behind your back. Your friend here too."
Henrick's words brought Garrett back to the present, and as he turned to look at the open book the innkeeper was pointing to he saw Ryn's clenched lips. Instead of responding, Garrett took a look at the book, confirming that the numbers he saw were exactly the same as the numbers in the dream. He had no experience with the supernatural from his time on Earth, but the memories he'd merged with gave him no choice but to admit that this was a world of magic and mystery.
If he hadn't merged with the memories of the young nobleman he could only have assumed he was going crazy, but instead a feeling of delight welled up inside his heart. Garrett had no idea how he'd ended up with the ability to walk in the Dream, but he wasn't about to complain. Shaking the stray thoughts from his mind, he focused on the account book, running his index finger down the column of numbers, doing the math in his head. Henrick, Ryn, and the two thugs, Obe and Gorn, all watched him, their gazes holding a variety of feelings, but Garrett paid them no mind.
A small frown creased his forehead as he got to the bottom of the column. Before Henrick could ask him what was wrong, he started tracing his way back up the column until he got to a specific number. Tapping it, he looked up at the innkeeper.
"This is wrong. You're missing thirty silver."
Garrett had spotted this mistake the first time he'd examined the account book in the Dream, and after confirming it in the real world he was now convinced that the two were linked. Though he wasn't sure what was going on with the fog, or the monster with the giant red eye he'd seen, he knew what he saw in the Dream was the same as reality.
"What are you saying?" Henrick asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Whoever did this calculation missed thirty silver. Your total at the bottom should be thirty silver higher."
The grim expression in Henrick's eyes was mirrored by a nervous expression in Gorn's eyes, but before the thug could say anything, Henrick stepped up next to Garrett.
"Show me."
Nodding, Garrett looked around for a pen, eventually spotting a quill. Thankful that his memories included extensive training with the old-fashioned pen, Garrett picked it up and awkwardly began to copy out the numbers onto a piece of paper Henrick pushed toward him. The only sound in the room was the soft scratch of the quill on the paper as everyone waited for him to finish.
"It's a fairly easy mistake to make, if you don't carry the remaining three," Garrett said, pointing to the numbers once he was finished. "I would double-check to make sure you still have the correct amount of money, but I'd guess this is just a calculation error, rather than embezzlement."
"Embezzlement?" Henrick asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Theft of funds," Garrett responded, his eyes drifting over toward Gorn.
The large man was clearly nervous, but to Garrett it didn't look like he was feeling guilty about something so much as he carried the stunned expression of a kid who'd dropped and broken a glass. Henrick, on the other hand, looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. Shooting a glare at Gorn, he stormed out without another word, both of the thugs running after him. Watching the door slam, Garrett was left alone with Ryn. With a sigh he began flipping through the account book to pass the time while he waited for the innkeeper's return.
A few times Ryn opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately she stayed quiet and watched Garrett as he looked over the accounts. Shooting a glance at her, Garrett decided it was time to try and fill in some information he was missing.
"I don't remember if I've thanked you for providing for our stay up until this point. My hope is that Henrick will find me useful enough that we can stay without having to pay."
"I… I think he will, if you're not lying to him," Ryn said after a moment of hesitation. "Money counters are expensive."
"Good. That will secure our food and shelter, and we can begin to make our plans from there."
"Whoa there. What do you mean, our plans?" Ryn asked, scowling. "Last time I checked, you were you and I was me. Don't get it confused. I saved you to get a reward, not because I fancied your face."
Hiding the amusement that caused a small smile to rise to his face, Garrett agreed with a nod.
"That's true, and you'll get a reward. But before that, I'm still going to need help. Look, I can't even sit up in a chair without you. How am I supposed to work for Henrick without your assistance? As much as I hate to admit it, I'll also need someone to help me with getting dressed, eating, and the like."
Recoiling, Ryn fixing Garrett with a glare.
"Listen to me, and listen well," she hissed. "I'm no maid, and I won't be bossed around by you."
"Of course not. What I am talking about is a partnership," Garrett said, giving her a calm smile.
His face, though on the thin side and white as a sheet from his recent sickness, was easy to look at, and his gray eyes seemed to carry a strangely magnetic pull, making it hard for Ryn to look away. Seeing her pause, he continued to speak, his voice slow and deliberate.
"What I lack in physical ability, you can provide. I can provide the means of our survival. A simple exchange of services, if you will."
Spotting the hesitation in Ryn's expression, Garrett deftly changed the subject.
"But the first thing we need is an understanding of our situation. Tell me about Henrick and this building."
"Ah, this is the Dreamer's Inn," Ryn said, glancing out the window. "It used to be a manor a long time ago, but since the river began to flood this district, it's become a stop-off point for the adventurers heading toward the swamp. Umm, as for Henrick, he runs the inn. He's also the leader of the Ghoul's Tooth gang."
Closing his eyes, Garrett listened as Ryn continued to speak, doing his best to match up the little bits he knew with what she was explaining. It was obvious that before he'd been wounded he'd never entered this area of the city, but he was familiar enough with the rumors of it. The city of Insomnium was ruled by a king and protected by an order of powerful Awakened warriors who served him, but the true power structure of the city was much more complicated than that.
Even when he'd been the former prince's advisor, Garrett had heard of the gangs that controlled the slums and the adventurers who ventured out of the city's large walls, bringing back spoils and material from their monster hunts. This world was filled with monsters, and many of them could be dissected into valuable components with many uses. Hearing that Henrick wasn't only running a gang but was also managing an inn for adventurers, it was easy for Garrett to understand just how influential he was in this part of the city.
"He owed my older brother," Ryn said, "but he's a cheap skinflint and took every coin I had for the use of that little storeroom he threw us in. And I mean every single one. If you're thinking about trying to trick him, don't. Henrick will kill you and then sell your bones for a few coppers."
"Got it. Is he an Awakened?"
"I don't know," Ryn shook her head. "But those two muscleheads he has with him are."
It wasn't long before heavy footsteps in the hallway announced Henrick's return, and he opened the door with a greasy smile, clearly happy.
"A room, and two meals a day," he said, staring at Garrett with a greedy gaze. "You'll handle my books and write letters for me."
"Three meals, and furniture for the room we're staying in. Two beds with sheets, a table, a chair, and candles," Garrett replied calmly. "And a silver a month."
The smile on Henrick's face morphed into a sneer and he walked forward, leaning on the desk to glare at Garrett.
"Are you trying to bargain with me? How about I cripple your left arm and throw you into the alley for the scavengers to pick apart?"
Ignoring the stink of Henrick's breath, Garrett calmly reached out and tapped the account book.
"In return, I'll show you why you're missing fifteen gold and tell you who took it."
About to reach across the desk to throttle him, Henrick froze at Garrett's words. The room was silent as the two men stared at each other, Henrick's bloodshot eyes meeting Garrett's cold gaze. Despite the pathetic condition of the young man in front of him, Henrick found that the blazing anger in his mind was quickly draining away, replaced by a thick thread of caution. He knew next to nothing about the one-armed cripple sitting at his desk, but years of judging people had left him with a good sense for those who should be treated carefully, and currently his instincts were screaming at him that the young man he was staring at was one such person. Licking his lips, Henrick suddenly smiled and nodded his head.
"Great, it's a deal then."