A/N: I do not own Darkest Dungeon or anything affiliated with the brand. This is just a fanfic from an amateur writer. Warning: World Building, Unreliable Narrator, Dark, Everyone is Broken, Flashbacks, Horror, Death, Stress, Traumatic Pasts, Human Trafficking, Abuse, Child Abuse, Rape, Hey Did I Mention Dark? Yandere, PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, Depression, Self-Medication, Drug Dependency, Baggage, Temple Prostitution, Should I just bold Horror at this point? Cheesy Romance, and Gamer tropes. I do not make any money off this story. Thank you for your time and my gratitude to Red Hook Studios.

"Talking"

'Thinking'

Memories

Casting/Skills/Words of Great Power or Meaning

The Ancestor Speaks

The Others


Previously

The Caretaker dogs my footsteps with his unsettling bouts of laughter and quiet contemplation. His eyes never left me, judging and testing. Seeing if I will live up to the weight and Power that the name Adamos is meant to be.


Ch 7: Cleaning House

The meeting room was dimly lit with hobbled furniture. I sat at the head of a long table, and even my modest clothing stood out as wealthy compared to the worn-out and patched rags my guests wore. Watered-down ale and a basket of loaves were served to help still stomachs and ease tempers.

The Heads of the greatest establishments in the Hamlet had gathered on my order. Arranged around the table with their second behind them at the wall. Their reports on their establishments, the heartbeat of the Hamlet's health lay in my hands.

My rage simmers into a frosty fury, with the Caretaker giggling at my back. 'These whore-sons are trying to scam me. I might not have entrenched myself enough to launch a financial inquiry, but these diseased-laden boils on a backward arse are grossly incompetent or utterly corrupt. Examples will be made.'

I lay the reports down while keeping one in hand and address the Head of the Sanitarium, "Head Healer," The man with gold jewelry, while wearing humble healing robes, looks at me in contempt. "Explain."

"Why. my dear. of course. You see, running such prestigious insulation isn't cheap. No, no, not at all. You wouldn't know much about it-"

'You would be very surprised.'

"-But medicines and equipment are hard to upkeep and personal is difficult to retain."

'Excuses and lies, the people are desperate. If you have such a high turnover, that's a problem you caused.'

"So obviously. to help keep our essential facility running, we deserve more ." His eyes gleam in greed beyond the shadows coating his face.

'Here we go.'

"No." I snap my fingers towards the Caretaker, and he hands me one of the financial reports I asked of him, along with the import contracts still respected by the Merchant Guild.

"My Dear-"

"Laundium, 950 Gold. Medicinal Herbs, 600 Gold. Antivenom 500 Gold. And you've reported that you have imported Holy Water at 500 Gold per bottle, despite you having a Church right next door."

"Now, how dare-"

I twist my wrist and flair my Power. The Lord's Ring glistens in anticipation. Causing shadows to become tangible, strangling and constricting the Healer. I send spikes into his body and start cracking his bones. Allowing enough air so that he may scream.

I continue, my cold tone cutting through his cries, "Which is quite interesting. Especially, when compared with the import contracts. A considerable sum that the merchants are Beholden to uphold. Which, again, is far below your outrageous report. Nor do such costs come so abruptly."

I look over the census, and the death reports, and muse, "It would be much easier to keep employees if you stopped experimenting and deliberately infecting them. We have so many brigands out there. I'm sure that they can be of use. Why you might even serve your actual purpose and earn an income if you bothered to treat the very people you live amongst. Instead of being a money pit for your personal laboratory."

The man's screams start to grate my ears, and he befouls himself. I state to the pale woman standing behind him, not daring to move, "Am I clear Head Healer."

I tap my ring finger on the table. The shadows hold the previous Head Healer in the air, crucifying him, tearing his skin to shreds, and revealing his still-beating heart. As a coup de grace, he erupts into witchfyre, only allowed to feed on him. His heart continues to beat, and the screams continue silently as he no longer has any vocal cords. 'He will live throughout the meeting.'

The Lord's Ring thrums in approval, and the web is savoring the man's blood, sweetened by extended suffering. They will not interfere.

I put down the Sanitarium's report and take the Abbey's. Much easier to read with the new bonfire. "Holy Mother,"

"Wait, wait, my Lady, it's not what it seems."

'Let's see how she hangs herself.' I look at her silently, cold wrath still simmering in my features.

"It's just we need money!" She looks around the room for help. There is none. "The people are desperate for aid and faith to help keep them in line! We are doing your work!" She gets on the ground and grovels.

'Proof enough that she was taught at the Grand Cathedral.'

"My work?" I drawl, dripping in sarcasm, "While the Holy Mothers serve the divine purpose of replenishing the earth with more of our people. It does not give an allowance for pimping them out to that outside of the faith. To sell them as concubines to the fish folk or swine men. To make the devoted Daughters and Sons of the Church so afraid, that they would Forsake the Light and run to the Dark covens.

You are chasing away the very people you are meant to shepherd. The populace you reap for your pleasure. In your greed and lust. How many souls have you cost the Light? Have you cost me?"

'How many have you sent to bolster my enemies' numbers? How much have you weakened our labor force? How many futures were snuffed? Talents lost? Until I'm left with only the dregs and most broken of the lot?'

"Leeching off the Hamlet to feed your appetite. Fattening and strengthening my enemies. And you claim to do this on my behalf? You disgraced excuse of a Vestal. For the greatness of my house?"

The shadows crawl over the Holy Mother's garments and skin, eager in anticipation and dancing to the red bonfire beside them. "No." And with that word, the dark magic struck.

Her flesh peeled and mutated to a slimy green. Popping pustules emerged from unblemished skin. Her legs sealed as her bones were crushed and glued into a jagged narrow mash. Blight dripped from her new worm-like body. Her mouth gained razors, eyes filled with tears as they were stricken blind. Never to see the Light again. Barely resembling a human on her top half, she becomes crucified as well. Only there is no fire to mask her shame. And the shadows wriggled like worms in her flesh, devouring her inside out like maggots. Poking and crawling for all in the room to see.

She squirmed and writhed for she no longer could scream, and what she did not know was that my shadows were the only thing connecting her head to her body. 'She will live until the end of the meeting.' The Lord's Ring gluttons itself on the suffering it helped facilitate, and the webs wait patiently for its meal.

"Brother Francis," The terrified monk squeaks at the attention. "That practice will not continue. Do your job and do it well. That includes the production of holy water, preaching of the Light, and proper guidance of my sheep. Light-aligned and otherwise. Come back with the relevant reports." The monk scampers out the door in all haste.

'I'll forgive the lack of etiquette this once. And now that the worst of the corruption has been taken care of.' I toss the remaining reports into the middle of the table.

"It would be a pain to replace all of you, so I'm going to give you an option. If you are confident, you can present your report to me now. Or you can feed it to the witchfyre and bring me a proper report tomorrow."

I sat back as the Adventurer Branch Leader grabs her report to feed it to the bonfire. I allow the witchfyre to consume the parchment, and let the implications of such grievous misconduct sear themselves into their minds. The blacksmith and new head healer quickly follow suit. They are allowed to leave, with only the survivalist and tavern owner staying at my table. They grab their reports and bring them to me. I take them and gesture for them to take a seat while I scrutinize them.

'Two more than I thought there would be. A pleasant surprise. …The tavern owner is doing a bit of embezzlement, and minor tax evasion, though within acceptable margins. The survivalist's papers are smudged, stained, and disorganized, but the filth lies on the paper, not within the words. An honest woman? Or simply one who doesn't want to bother with the comforts and trappings of civilization? No wonder she's keen on keeping to the outskirts of the town. Either way…'

"Acceptable," I reach for the bread and break it for the barkeep, "Though in the future, you will want to watch your margins. Errors can be insidious at times."

The man nods, accepting the bread and the warning. I reach out to him, and he feels old. Nearly as old as the Caretaker. 'He's been around the Adamos family long enough to know how to walk the line.'

I pass the bread to the survivalist, "You have a good head for numbers. Though, investment in a waterproof bag for such work might be prudent. If only so, such tasks need not be repeated." She accepts silently.

After the meal, they return to their work, and the Caretaker breaks out in laughter behind me. "Splendid, simply splendid."

I tap my ring finger against the table, as I cut off life support from the two examples. Their souls screamed as they were slurped into the web, leaving the lifeless husks on the floor. Mentally I sent a Lord's command to all of those who attended the meeting to not speak of what happened. 'No need to spook the populace so soon.'

The Caretaker pouts at the command but is still pleased, as he studies my victims.

"Clean the trash and ensure that those who did not submit a report, have one ready for tomorrow's eve."

"As you wish My Lady."


I walk around my town unaccompanied. I need some time for my thoughts and to get the lay of the land. The Lord's Ring is keen to show me around and let its thoughts be known. A simple thing to indulge my Focus. Prestige into the Established Lord Class made my mana pool not necessarily larger but gain a greater depth and weight. Having a proper focus also made the delicate work so much easier.

'How much did my Father's greed, foolishness, and wastrel ways cost me? I know he thought me a bastard between my Mother and Godfather, and dearly I wish he was right for once. …I now have the tools to make my path easier, and the mistakes of my mother will not happen again. The past can't be changed, but the future remains in flux.

Though I wouldn't have been able to perform either execution so smoothly or without visible weakness without the increase in Power or the aid of a Focus. Even one of those acts would have left me in a magical coma before coming here. Now…now though I can use it at thought and will.' A mental tug directs my attention to the graveyard.

"Most will end up here, covered in the poisoned earth, awaiting merciful oblivion."

'Neither of us, I suppose. I've already seen the fate of those entangled in the Thing's webs. At least maybe my men might have peace.'

The villagers who see me give me a wide berth and whisper. I pay them no mind, 'As their Lord, they cannot harm me.'

I amend, 'Expect if I commit such egregious sin against; Kin, Land, and Oath may those bound to the Estate are allowed by the Land to rise against me. Highly unlikely I'm trying to save this place and restore my Family's honor.'

I arrive at the defaced and broken statue.

"In time, you will know the tragic extent of my faillings…"

'Yes, and I won't repeat them. I won't become you, my mother, or my father. I'll be me and prosper where others of our family have fallen. You will become a monument, a warning so that never again will our greed cost us everything.'

A promise was sworn in the safety of my memory. I can not show any emotion, the whispers will not stop, and hidden eyes watch my every move.

I eye a traveling wagon, 'Well, this wasn't here yesterday.'

The voice muses deep in memory, "Trinkets and charms, gathered from all-the-forgotten-corners of the earth. Rarity and curios… Sold at a profit, of course. Idol, amulet, or a lucky charm. The simplest object can be the talisman against evil. An increasing stockpile of curios trinkets…Gathered from forbidden places."

A brief glimpse into the gypsy's few wares, 'And far beyond my allowance for decadence at this time. I wish I could outfit my men…in time they will earn it.'

The Hamlet answers an unspoken question with the feeling and impressions of the gypsy and her line arriving. Specifically, after every new Heir answered the letter and returned to their Land. Her Bloodline had a Pact with the Land ever since the 3rd Heir arranged the deal. The Hamlet faintly misses the 3rd Heir and his favorite mistress.

The Hamlet's presence leaves, and I continue to the barracks. Showers start to fall from the dreary sky. The Ring tugs my attention to the hastily constructed stagecoach and prophesied.

"Women and men, soldiers and outlaws, fools and corpses. All will find their way to us now that the road is clear. Word is traveling. Ambition is steering in other cities. We can use this. More arrive foolishly seeking fortune and glory in this domain… Of the damned. Great heroes can be found even here, in the mud and rain."

In the distance, Reynauld and Dismas are sparing. I decide to not disturb them and return to my manor. I have seen enough and done enough this day. All the pieces are in motion, and the only thing to do is wait. Now I can attend to myself.


The insides of the dusty and abandoned manor greet me again. 'I had forgotten that this place can't even afford a servant to keep my abode clean and in good repair.' The wood creaks against the chilling winds. Darkness lingers beyond what light comes from the windows. I must have been exhausted last night, to not even notice the extent of damage from neglect.

'No time like the present. At least I'm not unfamiliar with servant's work.'

I reach out to the Hamlet with a question, 'Cleaning Supplies?'

A strong feeling leads me to a hidden closet. No solution or potions, but brooms, rags, dusters, and buckets greet me.

'It will do.'

Spreading my Power throughout the manor, I open all windows and unlocked doors to invite the wind in. The frigid breeze sweeps over my house, stirring dust, webs, and all manner of undesirable mentions. As I called the wind, I pushed the burdened air away and beyond my manor. Repeating this great exercise in magic control and communing with my Land, I'm finally content with what's left.

Decades' worth of grime caked onto every surface. Skeletons and rotting corpses of pests, too large for the wind to carry. Broken and ruined furniture littered the floor. Small pockets of fungi sprout from here and there. And no doubt hidden traps lurking in darkened corners. Dark Families are a paranoid sort for good reason. Often those reasons are of their own making. But at least the air was no longer trying to suffocate me from being so laden with dust.

I place a few of the buckets outside to collect water and grab another 3 to sort my collections in. The buckets float beside me as I roam and explore my house. Floating various unusable rotten corpses, poisonous or unknown fungi, and edible versions of both into their respective containers. 'This should be far beneath my position, but I know starvation too well to turn away potential vittles.'

I expand Power as I walk. Bypassing the arcane traps, not by knowledge or skill but in that they recognized my magic as one of the Family, and thus bound to protect my Blood. For each room, I explored and gathered supplies; My Shadows spread throughout the room, rotting and breaking the grime, grease, and stains. Making way for my Light to shine, and sanitizing everything in my wake.

Hours passed before I got the open areas of the manor cleaned and cleared. I noticed hidden rooms and walkways but saved those for another day. I would like to keep some Power to spare.

It piqued my curiosity that there were only 3 rooms that were in presentable shape. Clean and polished to the point of shining before I entered. The family library, laboratory, and ritual room. I had a mission to clean, and they were in pristine condition, so I moved on. There was a fourth room in a place of honor amongst the servant's quarters.

A stark black Ward, flickering in dark lightning blocked my path to that room. 'Drained as I am, I don't want to tangle with The Caretaker if I don't have to. No need to make enemies, especially when they are far more skilled and experienced than I am.'

The moon shines brightly through a window, with the rain finally cleared away, and I bring my spoils to the kitchen. Setting the two 'waste' buckets close to the doorway. I start looking through the cupboards, for spices and herbs. They are unsurprising bare of well…anything. Dutiful searching does lead me to grasp a full vessel of sea salt, and I hum pleased before addressing the deep unsettling presence lurking at the door. "It is done?"

I could feel the hungry pitch shadows bend in a mockery of a bow, wrapped as they were in human skin. "Of course, My Lady."

"Is this salt necessary for your rituals and potions?" I note the Dark taint lingering on a Holy spice. Not directed towards any purpose, it probably achieved its corruption through the ambiance of where it was harvested.

"All is yours, My Lady. Salt is one of our more plentiful resources and reliable exports."

I hum again, pulling out the edible ingredients, a scavenged pan, and call a bucket of rainwater from outside. The Caretaker moves out of the way of the bucket as I address him, "Check the two buckets near you. I don't have time for potions yet, so you're welcome to use what interests you."

I begin to skin and debone the rats while using magic to cut the edible fungi. I feel a rip in space as The Caretaker takes his choice of ingredients before closing it. 'What in the Abyssal Dark Hell? Not only is he an accomplished High Dark Mage, but a Dark Sage?! I thought those things were a myth! To prestige an already advanced class, that can take decades if not centuries to obtain alone, into a legendary one… What the fuck is living in my house?!'

"Ah, a woman's touch. I had forgotten that we had marble flooring along with the oak." The judging and patient look stare daggers into my back.

'Yeah, it surprised me too.'

"Will you be looking for your own meal, or will you be joining me?" I address him, as I absently call 3 orbs of Power. Set orbs of Darkness and Light in front of my prep station, and sent an orb of Fire below the stove to heat the pan.

"A chance to enjoy My Lady's cooking? Why I wouldn't miss it. Though that isn't proper ingredients."

"We have, what we have. Our task is to make the Land prosper so that we receive tribute worthy of our stations." I finish, drawing attention to the sheer bareness of our food stores. I place some meat and fungi into the hot pan after salting them. The remaining food floats in the air, being cured by the Light orb, as I cusp the Dark orb.

"Such a mundane way of using the Greater Powers…" The Caretaker drifts off, inquiring and dismissing all at once.

The Dark orb purrs as it laps off the blood from my fingers, and I shift around, still cradling it softy. It is always hungry and needy but enjoys the treat nonetheless. The Light orb quickly floats in front of me with a buzzing sound. I take a hand from the dark to gently scritch directly beneath it. The Light chimes at the attention, jealousy abated for now.

"And yet they seem to not mind."

I stare him down, "If the Great Powers are content to be used then that is their wish, not ours. So long as proper respect and tribute are paid, their use can be as micro or macro as one needs. You keep reminding yourself that I'm a woman and yet forget what that means. Knowing our magic specializes in the soft Powers and the prosperity of Home and Territory."

"…I suppose Lord Magic has always favored and coveted Lady Life. A woman indeed, how fascinating." The madman drifts into indiscernible mutterings and talks of experiments, moons, and a coven.

'Oh, that's going to be costly to cover, in blood or gold.' I deadpan at the man entranced in his world and gesture for the Dark orb to consume the remains of the waste buckets. It happily complies, always eager to eat flesh, blood, and fear. The Caretaker jumps out of the way quickly and stares at me and beyond me. The Light orb returns to its task of curing the unneeded food.

I return to cooking the seared platter, tossing in some rainwater to steam and plump the dish. "Go fetch some silverware, so we do not have to eat like savages."

The man disappears in a split second to follow my command and returns just as quickly. The dishes clatter onto the counter, caked in filth. I look at him unamused as I ask the Dark orb, 'if it minds?' Not nearly as eager when there wasn't blood and flesh offered, but it still consumes everything that was not meant to be there, and the Light shows off by cleansing the plates to the point of shining.

A wordless thank you is sent to my helpers as the dark curls into the hollow of my neck ever hungry but willing to drink in my warmth, leaving an icy chill in its resting place. The Light bobs up and down in front of me. Showing off that it has done its job, and isn't it awesome?

I extend my thoughts of, 'Yes, it is amazing, and I'm proud and happy you're around.' It chirps and buzzes around my head as I grab a cloth to set the pan on the dining table. The Fire orb drifts closer, hesitant in the face of the Origin Powers, and I extend my free hand. It latches on and nuzzles into my hand before dissipating itself into the either.

Dinner is a quiet affair. While the Caretaker sits to my right, he is wrapped up in a book and taking notes. I waste time playing with the remaining orbs. The price of such small tasks is attention and minor tribute. Considering how much time and exertion they saved me…I do believe I'm getting the better end of the deal.

The dishes disappear with the food finished, and we part ways. He was still absorbed in his research, and I honestly want nothing to do with him tonight. The solar is still in a sorry state, but clean air and floors are a blessing. The Lord's Ring is furious at the state of its room, but there is nothing for it right now. Moth-bitten and time-worn wool make up the once luxurious bed, much better than what I've experienced in the past 10 years, and yet I still can't rest.

I rest my hand on my head in frustration and then lift it to look at the Lord's Ring. 'Might as well. Most Established Lords get an object to help them organize, track and streamline their magic and binding with their Land. Sometimes a book, a staff, a necklace, but again I get to be different.'

I wave my hand in front of my face, and a red screen pops in front of me. Listing my Status, Reputation, Activity Log, State of the Hamlet, and my Heroes. Even a Glossary, as if mocking my intelligence. I sigh in frustration, 'No, I must be exceptional even in this. True to my family, the proof of Establishment lies in hallucinations and illusions. Mad inflicted indeed.'

The default illusion shows the Hamlet in great disrepair. I notice a few symbols of the heirlooms I've uncovered while cleaning the manor. With a practiced motion, I had little understanding of, I press against the picture of the new stagecoach. It asks me if I'm willing to sacrifice some heirlooms to improve the coach.

As much as I would like to increase the quality of my men's quarters we need to increase the blood flow of adventurers into my town first. Sacrificing deeds and crests to improve the Coach, so that it can carry three adventurers at a time. And that's all I can do…

That's all I can do…for now.

A/N: Right large chapter, let's break it down. Cleaning house in more ways than one. Lenore needed to meet the business which makes up the lifeblood of her Land. Considering the state she found it in, she has questions and concerns. Rightfully so, after pulling a near all-nighter and communing with the Hamlet to figure out what was going on. She isn't in a position to replace and fight all of the Community Heads, so she just takes care of the worst ones…In a way, the other Heads would understand that she is not weak and is very willing to make examples of those who are detrimental to her goals. Very Adamos of her, Caretaker approves.

She doesn't see what she did as wrong. It's simply another horror on top of many, but they were screwing over the Hamlet and thus her. What with Head Healer almost starting another Umbrella and the Holy Mother running a human trafficking business far beyond what's normal for the church. Considering her history with trafficking (Ch 4) and trying to restore her family's reputation…they needed to go and quickly.

The rest are just normal sorts of corruption; embezzlement, bribery, abuse of employees, destroying any competition, taking advantage of the greenhorns, etc... That's just business as usual in this world. They tried to take advantage of her. They knew they fucked up. The tavern owner has been here long enough to know that the Adamos family doesn't care what you do as long as you're not trying to screw them over. Survivalist-chan doesn't like numbers or paperwork at all, and not even a few extra coins are worth the headache of not being straightforward.

A trip around town and with her thoughts seemed prudent, considering I'm completing a run in-game as I write the story. Also, a chance to explore her character without forcing it is always welcome.

The house…well the Caretaker. We see the state of the Hamlet when we arrive, where he is supposed to be taking care of it. Yet he doesn't. In my headcanon, Caretaker has a pride issue and obsession with his field of study. If he believes something is beneath his notice or worth, he simply won't bother with it. Only acting when it appeals to his pride or curiosity. Thing is, he is actually powerful enough to get away with it.

You know in certain games where there is this one recurring merchant that can and will absolutely decimate you if you attack them? That is harder to beat than the actual boss, if not impossible in the first place. Yes, I'm looking at you Charon from Hades! Miser has a higher kill ratio than Big Daddy despite, holding back and letting you go after a warm-up. Great game, by the way, I highly recommend it. But yeah, The Caretaker is that character, and that's why it's his responsibility to deal with the trade and duties that rely on the outside world. No one wants to fuck with him after he makes his own examples.

He is low-key enjoying freaking out his newest Lord. His pride and ego preen as not only his casual display of Great Magics but that his new Lady is learned and competent enough to understand the implications. So he's showing off in front of her.

In essence, he is the Estate's first and foremost and is on loan to Lenore by said Estate. She has little authority to punish him, and he is so much more powerful than her that he can strike back. She does not want that battle, and the Caretaker knows it. Though he won't push the boundaries himself, because, while he does not answer to her, he does answer to someone who wants her here.

It also allows me to showcase Lenore and how she approaches problems, exploring her powers some more. Magic is broken, Lords are OP as a rule, and Heaven I would love to have a cheat while cleaning. Plus we just need some wholesome in this story. Labrador Dark Orb and Retriever Light Orb are simply adorable.

Yes, I keep emphasizing that women are special in this story, and there is a reason for that. This will be explained when I have a good spot in the story for it or in the side series I'm building to explain lore. I don't want to make it clunky.

Speaking of clunky, do you want me to post the Game Windows in the story, its special side series, or in the lore side series? Let me know. That's all, ciao.