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, human sacrifice, Hey Did I Mention Dark?, Yandere, PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, 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/Mental Communication'

Memories/FlashBacks

Casting/Skills/Words of Great Power or Meaning

The Ancestor Speaks

The Others

Previously

"Thank you." I lay my hand to touch his shoulder and proceed to the bed. Even after dealing with the church and university during the day, I had to confront a crime family's Heir during the night. The rejections from all the major guilds were just salt at this point, and the only saving grace was the fact it was only business. Facing the weight of the day, I collapse into unconsciousness before I hit the bed.

Ch 5: The Old Road I

My mind is blurry, and it feels like a chisel is trying to split my skull. Sadly, dawn's light is peeking through the window, and the Light gets a bit testy if I don't give its daily worship. Only habit and determination get me out of bed for the daybreak prayers.

I stumble out of bed to get tangled in the thin blanket. I fall with a loud thump which makes the blinding migraine flare up. My limbs shake with effort, but I succeed in dragging myself to the window. The Overspent debuff from overusing my magic is taking its toll on enduring exhaustion, heightened stress, and unrelenting pain. Sadly, it's something I'm terribly familiar with.

'With how often I drag myself to the edge, I should think that I would be able to better handle that abyssal damned penalty. Good thing it's just me here.'

The opened window brings crisp air and sunlight. The cold soothes the migraine, and my Power reaches out to drink in the Light. I allow myself to breathe, before kneeling and reciting morning prayers in the old tongue. For some reason, the Light prefers that cant and strengthens its presence when called on. Rewarding its worshipers with enhanced effects or reduced costs from calling on it.

'Right now, what I need is to refill my mana stores as fast as possible. To get this cursed debuff dispelled.

I'm only halfway through the prayers when I notice a strange man in armor praying beside me. With a shriek in surprise, I wrest him with shadows to fling him away from me. It succeeds as he's thrown across the room and restrained by the dark. I call all the power I've just gathered to summon a bolt of light to smite him. Only the purr of contentment from my Shadows stays my Light.

I stare dumbfounded in confusion. Why would my Power …? Dispelling the Light, and desperately searching my attire. Outdoor clothes, not tampered with or mused by activities. So I did not allow a stranger in my bed. 'Who? How? I-'

Groaning, memories of yesterday rushed to the forefront. It certainly does not help my headache at all. 'Light blast it. I did not mean to make that impression, and I'm not even put together! Not his fault. Okay, mostly not his fault. I still need him. Be gentle. Don't punish him for your lack. He'll suffer enough later on.'

Gently I release him, and the Lord's Ring laughs at me. "Reynauld?" He just stands there and looks at me. "Forgive me. I had forgotten about you. Did I harm you?" He shakes his head warily and wisely keeps his distance.

I remember my mother's words, 'Admit your mistakes when the show of weakness will not harm you or yours. If you never admit them, then they will be repeated and lead to your ruin. Take care of your weapon, and it will take care of you. Make your men feel needed and appreciated, and they will stand with you to the very end. Never forget that kindness is a tool, leash, and bait alike.'

A blush is burning bright on my face, and it's not helping my embarrassment. "Right. We finish the morning prayers and prepare for our leave." I return to my prayers as the crusader joins me shortly but noticeably gives me some distance.

Thankfully I already packed last night, so clean-up was merely making ourselves presentable for the public. We left behind the ransacked chest, as with the key stolen… it was no longer trustworthy. I did glean some amusement as I paid the late owner's son. He kept looking towards the door in worry.

'An odd sight greets those passing through the city's entrance.' I monologue and watch life continue, 'Off to the side, a fully armored crusader with a chest hefted over one arm, and a hand on his sword stands vigil over a young woman. This is not particularly odd, but what is unusual is that the crusader is guarding someone in well-worn modest clothing of well make. In other words, good breeding but poor wealth.'

'Or perhaps not too unusual? It's not uncommon for poorer nobles to auction off their children and the rich suitor to hire bodyguards. The Church is well-known for its efficiency, and expense. It is a power move to hire them to simply deliver a woman.'

I eye the thief that spotted me, then the crusader, and turn tail. A smile graces my face to hide my pain, 'The sight of the riff-raff trying to mark me and then turning right around in a hurry is amusing. And to think all it takes is the sight of an armored symbol of the church. Tch ow, I always hate the side effects of overusing my power.'

With a spitting migraine, I think I can forgive myself for startling at a dog's barking. A hound rushes forward and bumps its head into my hand, begging for pets. This draws a genuine laugh and smile as I indulge the blessed creature. It happily pants, causing my stress and most of my migraine to fade away.

I look up to see one of my Guardian's trusted men escorting Dismas. My heart swells at seeing them both, and my Power purrs at having both heroes where they belong. At my side.

The Hound Master coughs and holds out the receipt for Dismas's accommodations. I go over the bill, 'Hmm? He didn't try to add a convenience charge for the escort or any other way to pad his own pockets. He either has virtue or more likely is deeply afraid of the Head Commissioner.'

Humming happily, I check on my first hero, Dismas. Who is looking a lot better in actual gear and good health. He and Reynauld are sizing each other. 'Men. mine.'

With them properly by my side, I can attend to the patient Hound Master. His beast bumps into my hand, begging for more pets. A request I gladly consent to, but not before handing its master not only the Prison's due but a generous tip on top of it.

"Wait…my Lady this too much-" He protests.

I look up as I get just the right spot behind the dog's ears. Its leg is thumping as fast as its tail. It may be inappropriate, but I've lost my patience with people or politics. If the sweet beast bringing me stress relief only wants a few simple pets. Then the blessed creature will get its pets.

"I insist. You went out of your way on my behalf, and that should be rewarded. Besides,"

I give the delightful creature another scritch, causing it to howl happily. Reducing my stress and pain to as low as they can go. Cursed as I am with this Light blasted debuff. The dog nuzzles into my side, and my smile relaxes into something genuine.

"I believe that both you and your friend here deserve a good meal. So long as it gets a good treat, the extra is yours as you wish. Deal?"

"Yes, my Lady." His eyes soften, and his entire posture is gentle towards me. Happy that his familiar is appreciated and loved. Off to the side, Reynauld sets down the chest and is now nose to nose with Dismas. I let my men continue their introductions and posturing. 'They will settle themselves. I don't know when I'll enjoy the company of a friendly dog again.'

The Hound Master steps to the opposite side of my heroes to guard me as we wait for the Stage Coach. The dog leans into my pets, but his ears remain perked. Its master is also leaning towards me, though at a respectful distance. His posture is loose yet protective. My guard relaxes a bit as I can safely give and receive affection. The indulgence and stress relief allows me to gather my thoughts.

'Expensive, but he'll spread the word to the other hound masters on what to expect from me. A few coins, some kindness, and his goodwill is earned. If his willingness to guard me with no extra benefit is to be understood. I look forward to the future harvest of men he will send my way. …It helps that the hound he is bonded to is a good-natured creature. A Light blessing at that.'

I reminisce on how it managed to reduce my pain and make the journey ahead much more tolerable. The bickering beside us grows louder. 'At least the healing grants me more patience to wrangle my men. They're mine and will need to work together. Dark and Light help me.'

A deep sense of unease washes over the land. Heavy clouds block the sun, and a bone-chilling wind sweeps over us. All this to herald the cursed stagecoach emerging from the dark forest.

Guards swarm the entrance, commoners huddle to the walls, and the hound returns to its master, snarling at the shadow-wrought coach. My heroes both step in front of me. Placing aside their argument, and brought their weapons at ready. They give each other a side-eye for a second, before focusing on the oncoming threat.

Sadly, I recognize the Estate's magic. I hold my head high, watching the Damned man wrest the black horses towards us. A pale bald head with mousey brown hair on the sides of his head and a full beard. A mad man's smile, full of grimy yellow teeth, and his dark purple attire flapping in the wind. Pulling up to us, his smile grows even wider taking me in, "I've come to collect the Honored Heir Adamos."

"As you say, It's time for the Lord's Blood to return to its Land." I motion Reynauld to collect the trunk and make my way to the coach. The old man hops off his coach with surprising grace and speed and opens the door. Holding out a hand to help me in.

I take his hand, "And who would you be?"

He performs a gracious bow, "Just refer to me as The Caretaker. Ah, it will be nice to look upon a fair face as I do my duty. Female Lords, such a rare and valuable thing."

His thumb brushes the Lord's Ring, and it burns him in a warning. The ring shines with cruel amusement as the Caretaker doesn't dare let me go until I am fully inside.

The man turns to my heroes. They respond with hackles raised, united against our driver. He scoffs at them and returns to his perch. Dismissing them as nothing worth his attention.

Reynauld is trailing at the back, getting everything loaded and bound. Dismas comes inside the coach and hesitates, "Would you…" he stumbles over his words and continues, "Would you please sit there? In the middle?"

A small thing to indulge, I move away from the window to the opposite side of the coach. Sitting against the wall closest to the driver. He stills and then goes to where I was previously sitting, gripping his pistol and scouting out the window.

When Reynauld places a foot inside the cabin, the coach lurches forward at supernatural speed. We react quickly. Dismas lunges to grab him and pull him back. My Power seizes the crusader, hauls him inside, and slams the protesting door shut. Mad cackling can be heard from the driver's seat.

The men collapse in a heap and scramble away from the other. Jostling with the wagon and cursing as they keep losing balance. My migraine sharply reminds me of its presence, as yes, I did overuse my Power, and no, I couldn't afford to buy any tonics or herbs to deal with the penalty that came with it.

I don't dare help. It's a regrettable idea to use any more Power than necessary until I've fully recovered, and I don't have the physical strength to lift either of them. Though some amusement pierces through the haze of pain, 'They're already acting like brothers.'

Once everyone gets situated at their opposite ends, I speak up. They go from glaring at each other to facing me. "If you are expected to fight and die beside one another, I do believe that introductions are in order."

I motion from Reynauld to Dismas, "Reynauld, this is the Highwayman Dismas and my first hero." Reynauld startles back and starts to scrutinize his companion.

"Dismas, this is the Crusader Reynauld. I was able to claim him the day after you." It's Dismas's turn to speculate.

"It's important that you get comfortable with each other. While you're welcome to bicker and jest with one another, the Estate will eat you alive if you do not put aside your differences to fight together. I have been able to secure a line of men from the Prisons, the Holy Church, and the University.

Reynauld, survive, and I'll have you lead those that come from the Church. Dismas survive, and if you can corral those accepted from the Prisons. I will listen to your input on how to manage them. Your seniority allows you benefits and responsibilities that come with it… for what's it worth. I only have claimed you both for at most three days. We will see if a leader comes from the scholars sent to us."

'It's important to communicate and be clear with what I expect of them. Misinformation can be devastating, and assumptions will only lead to unnecessary weakness. They know who the other is and that I'm holding them in equal standing so that there is minimal backstabbing and hierarchy play. They know where we are getting more aid and where the other comes from. What am I forgetting?'

"Let me make this very clear. We all have undesirable pasts, and most of your future brothers-in-arms will share similar or worse backgrounds. You will work together, or you will all fall. There are no if, and, or buts. I don't care if they're pagans or zealots. Saints or damned. Lawmen or criminals. Even Forsaken ." I look at the most significant threat of disunity and press with the weight of my Power through our bond that I'm deadly serious on this. Reynauld turns away. The spike of pain is worth emphasizing my message.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes."

"As the glorious Day."

I nod and bring out my hidden satchel. I pass out a holy scripture to Reynauld and a small guidebook of various knots to Dismas. 'Crusaders are required to learn how to read and write as representations of the church's power, but I don't know the extent of Dismas's education. That book is mostly pictures and examples. So, whatever the truth, it should help stave off boredom and be something he can use.'

I look out the window, the landscape passing in a blur far beyond the speed of a normal coach. 'It should take at least two months of hard riding to reach the Estate, yet at this speed-' The outside grows completely black before changing into a new horizon. 'That was unexpected, the speed remains constant, but we're also going through the Dark Paths? That's High Dark Magic, and even the more experienced Arcanists and Occultists would be wary of using them even once. Never mind with such frequency and ease. This Caretaker person is far more dangerous and skilled than I first assumed.' The outside goes dark again, and the scenery changes again.

The Lord's Ring tugs at my mind and shines. 'It's time.'

I pull out the first Letter. My ring glows, and my Power rises with it. The Adamos Sigil shines over where the wax where ethereal red chains sprout from it and surrounding the letter. Touching the sigil with the Lord's Ring causes the protection to shatter and allows me to unseal it.

A voice echoes as I open it. The Estate's Power lurches and digs into my mind and soul as the words echo. My Power is too weakened and feeble to fully fend it off. And, at last, the Estate Claims me.

To the outside, shadows spring from the Lord's Ring and wrap around me, alarming my heroes. Rose-red light flickers fighting back, but ultimately it is consumed by the Darkness. It takes less than 30 seconds for the Darkness of the Estate to root itself, and now, at last, I'm a part of It.

The Caretaker's cackles ring loud and long throughout the room. The lantern above flickers into pitch black for a few moments before returning to full brilliance but with a red tinge to the light. I can feel the Caretaker, Claimed by the Estate. Still my servant but more as well.

There are others, getting closer and closer each second. Dripping dark ropes of webs spring and tie us together. With the deepest pulsating mesh located only what I can believe to be the Heart of the Estate. I can't turn away from the opened letter, insistent on being read.

"Ruin has come to our family.

You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor.

I lived all my years in that ancient rumor-shadowed manor, fattened by decadence and luxury. And yet, I began to tire of…conventional extravagance. Singular unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable Power.

With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long-buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on…swarthy workmen and…sturdy shovels. At last, in the salt-soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations, we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth, but we were in a realm of death and madness! In the end, I alone fled, laughing and wailing, through those blackened arcades of antiquity, until consciousness failed me.

You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial. It is a festering abomination! I beg you, return home, claim your birthright, and deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows." The cocking of a gun and the subsequent shot echoes eerily throughout my very soul. Followed by a sickening thump and squelch. "...of the Darkest Dungeon."

'And now I know where the endgame lies. Where the heart of corruption lurks.' My other eyes look towards the estate where the pulsing mesh of webs stirs.

A hand holds my shoulders, and my- no our Power reacts instinctively, 'How Dare someone lay a hand again-' Black shadows, deeper, darker, more insidious, rush out onto the arm holding me. Ready and lusting after blood and pain-

'No that's mine. No-' My light flickers, weakens. The shadows cover the person, one of my heroes. I try to reign in the Darkness once more.

My will falters, and now he's choking. He's suffering not because I choose to but as a result of my weakness. The last try, 'I just got him, not so soon. Stop-'

'I won't be alone again. Enough! That One is Mine! ' MY Power surges within the shadows, red light breaking apart the tentacled leeching shadow. Enshrouding my hero in a halo of red Light. I push further, and blood spills from my lips. Enticing the Darkness with my blood, so that my Light has an easier time restoring my Hero.

I cough again. I can't keep this up. Dismas is coughing, holding his throat, and scrambling away from me. Reynauld learned his lesson this morning. I push onward to fully heal him, some drops hit the floor, and the shadows rush to consume the blood. Success, mostly. This encounter still stressed him, and his clothes do look very ruffled.

I pull back all Power in the room and finish coughing into my hand. At best, I'm at half health right now and very likely afflicted with a stress ailment. Should anything further happen, I'll be a liability at best.

Reynauld is steadying Dismas, 'At least they will have another thing to bond over. So much for a relaxing ride… though it was a faint a foolish hope of something not going wrong.'

I grimace at the wriggling of delight from the blood and pain the Darkness consumed. Even if I had to distract it with my own to purchase enough time and will to spare Dismas from a grisly fate. The Darkness curls and squirms in appeasement and anticipation for more than an… appetizer?

'Oh, Blessed Light's Mercy. The Estate is genuinely trying to harvest me early before I can settle into my territory. We don't have much time. And there's another letter I'm bound to read before being allowed entrance into the Hamlet.'

"Boys." I bark out. "This is far from over. Prepare you-" A coughing fit interrupts me as I fumble for the second letter that will grant the authority to enter the gates and establish a Claim to the Land. They get the gist and bring out their weapons in preparation.

"You have time until I finish this letter." I gesture to the now bloodstained letter, already absorbing the blood dropped on it. The lantern above sways dangerously, and the outside goes pitch black and changes the landscape outside to dark and cold woods. "Use that time wisely." I focus on myself and my soul. Steeling myself, I break the second sigil.

"You will arrive along the old road."

It winds with a troubling, serpent-like suggestion through the corrupted countryside-" The stagecoach makes a sudden lurch to the side, emphasizing the words echoing from the letter. I double my efforts to finish the letter.

"-leading only, I fear, to ever more tenebrous places. There is a sickness in the ancient, pitted cobbles of the old road, and on its writhing path, you will face viciousness, violence, and perhaps, other damnably transcendent terrors." We're passing through a cemetery as a ghost rises from the grave, pointing left towards the driver. The coach makes another lurch, and the wheels groan in protest.

"So, steel yourself, and remember, there can be no bravery without madness. The old road will take you to hell, but, in that gaping abyss, we will find our redemption."

The word redemption echoes a hollow plea. The Dark rises, blinding the cackling driver, the horses mad with crying, and the stagecoach crash onto its side. Everyone inside slams into one of the walls, the men barely keep a grip on their weapons, and the broken lantern rolls to my free hand.

My heroes and I rise, groaning from the abrupt stop. I grab the lantern and lead the way out. Driver and horses are missing, and the coach is broken beyond repair. We will have to make the rest of the way on foot.

In the distance, I see the crumbling ruins of my family's old castle and the lights of a Hamlet close by. The Dusk is fading quickly at our backs, and without the Light of the Sun to hold the Dark at bay… It will be free to hunt and Harvest us. My heroes stand at my side, facing the increasingly dark road ahead of us.

A/N: Well, shit, that was…wow. I was very concerned there. I was rolling will check during the estate claiming scene with a saving throw of 15. Considering her will is compromised at the time, and her Power is overused to the point of being effectively crippled. Plus, she just multi-classed into Warlock. The Estate got to test her for a bit and now wants to have fun.

At first, I roll a 10. Shit, this is bad. A 5, now the hero is about to get killed. I then roll to see if it's Dismas (odds) or Reynauld (evens), and it's a 3. I perform the last check and holy smokes. Lenore gets a 19 on getting her Power back under control. We haven't even started to fight, and Dismas already nearly died.

Dnd has good ideas, so I'll be pulling from it, but at most, it will be a suggestion, not the rule. You'll probably notice other media that I pull ideas from. Again, please support the original releases.

The saying, "Take care of your weapon, and it will take care of you." Came from one of my late grandfathers. He was a soldier, and one of his favorite sayings was, "Take care of your gun, and it will take care of you." I hope he's enjoying heaven now.

In effect, the Old Road is going to be in 2 parts. Sometimes the story wants to write itself and this is a good pause point. Hopefully that the horror inherent in this world is clear. Feedback is welcome, and thanks for your time.