A/N: I do not own Darkest Dungeon or anything affiliated with the brand. This is just 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, Depression, Self-Medication, Drug Dependency, Baggage, Temple Prostitution, Cannibalism, Toxic Relationships, Heal Fic, 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

They've returned with resounding success. Little loot but clear victories across the board…Reynauld proves himself once again as a cable leader. Sadly he stole twice from me, and thus his party is sent off without pay once more. Reynauld gulps and gets on his knees before me with a slight pant.

'Oh, Light is he enjoying getting tortured?!' His delighted screams echo filling the manor again. 'Whatever the means I need to get that Santitatruim up now!'

Ch 11: A Great Start

'Well, the Sanitarium is up again.' I grimace at the lightness of my purse along with the absence of sacrificed heirlooms. Reynauld is hard at work clearing the lots for new buildings. 'He missed his calling as a builder.' Though with his kleptomaniac trait locked in, I couldn't afford to treat him and upgrade armor for the next party sent out.

So his punishment is the same thing…again. I've allowed the Caretaker more liberties with his person. 'Light's Mercy, he's going to prestige into a Flagellant at this rate.'

'I'm so lucky I caught Tranchant's new negative quirk before assigning her to the outgoing party. Reynauld must have infected her because the kleptomaniac trait needs to be stamped out. Light's generosity that it wasn't locked. I could still afford treatment along with the Blacksmith's commissions.'

I look at the rag-tag party leaving the town, the new Shield Breaker braving the front. Dismas took one look at her and turned right around. I don't want to fight this battle, so I sent Castillon in his stead. Now Dismas is helping Reynauld with his daytime tasks. At night he's hunting for Marisco. Who took her binge a little too far and is now missing.

I look at the morning sky for guidance and prayer. "Let them live and return victorious."

They return alive, victorious…with meager spoils. 'That's what I get for clinging to the light.'

I inspect the prospective recruits, 'Have I been too soft? Two of the four that ventured into town hold the kleptomaniac quirk.' I immediately dismissed them. They are welcome to strike it out on their own, but they have no place with me.

The others…are also unsuitable for one reason or another. At least they have an entire party's worth of people to try to survive the Old Road…My Ring glints in dark joy.

'I don't know how to feel about the fact that I've effectively damned them…'

'Perhaps I can still save at least one…' I turn on my heel and approach the Vestal of the group heading out the gate. She sees me coming, spits on the ground, and hauntingly marches off.

'I suddenly feel a lot better about letting them go.'

The town gates slammed shut and locked itself behind them. The Hamlet is offended on my behalf. The Estate stirs in agreement, and the Lord's Ring draws on my Power for insidious plots. I leave them to their plans. I've done what I could.

'Time to make do with what I have.'

Dudley, Castillion, Courseume, and Marisco are armored up and sent to cull the Weald. Frenzied and lazy from yesterday's sacrifice. They should be able to take advantage of lowered guards.

Oh, I was wrong. So very very wrong.

"Be wary, For confidence is a slow and insidious killer."

I was right about them being frenzied.

The party was nearly dispatched by a group of brigands. Then weakened, bleeding, and exhausted they were beset by a pack of wild dogs. It was…unsettling to watch them be torn to shreds and eaten alive. I…am sad I was not able to save them. Even more so I am glad I indulge Dismas in his desire to not go along this time. Losing him…would have truly hurt.

'I've gotten complacent.'

"Caretaker?"

The Shadow appears as summoned.

"The men have been fed to the Estate. Gather more."

He disappears with a cackle into the Darkness. To carry out my work. Leaving me to a dying flame and encroaching shadows. I stand up to seek the company of Reynauld and Dismas…I need to renew my hope.

I gather the remnants of my men at the Barracks and tell them the somber news.

"It's alright, we will prosper. By the Light I am ready to go forth." the Vestal, Taillebois musters up the courage to put herself forward.

I am touched by her efforts to keep morale. "We will wait for reinforcements before starting the next run. I've been too ambitious in culling the monsters. We will stick to scouting missions until our strength has been fortified.

I'm also warning you, I invested too much in their equipment expecting their survival. A gamble I gravely lost. Provisions for missions will to scarce to nonexistent…I am sorry for that."

Shame covers me as I think of my failings from greed and being so powerful here. They depend on me as a leader, and I have failed again and again. I rise and nod at the silent group before returning to the manor. I need to study, not to increase my strength, but to gather knowledge on the threats that lurk in my lands. If we are to survive…I need everything I can get to help them.

This time when the Caretaker returns, I am not picky—welcoming Seguier the Houndmaster, Courteney the Antiquarian, and Falaise the Bounty Hunter. A choice to either stay or leave and a promise of purpose and death. They have chosen to serve me.

I am very grateful that they chose to stay.

I send Taillebois with the greenhorns on a short mission into the ruins. As is, I can't afford but the most meager of torches. To solve that shortcoming, I sell one of my few remaining trinkets. A desperate measure that reeks of weakness, but they now have food and light at the very least.

The insistent buzzing outside our gates is not helping the people's stress or my own. All I can pray for is the Light's Grace as I watch over them. I'm not fit for much else I'm afraid.

In the end, by the barest margin…they won. Afflicted, without supplies, and nearing Death's Door they completed their mission. Well, it appears I will need to restart my prayers in the mornings. The Dark takes, and the Light gives…I had forgotten that.

'I will not again.'

I have acquired the Grave Robber Guildersleeve, but the other two. The leper passed on route and was dumped off the side of the road. The hound master… heard my promise of death and ran.

'We do not need those weak of will.'

The scouting party this time is Dismas as the leader, Tranchant, Seguier, and our newest recruit. I finally had enough to place Reynauld into the Sanitarturium. With the stirrings of the Necromancer Apprentice, I will need my best man to deal with the young boss. There was enough left over to improve a few skills and upgrade their armor. Not much else. Another gamble, another chance. The Light guide them.

I asked the Light to guide them, and it has. They all returned safe and sound. Admittedly, there are many new concerning quirks, but my men deserve to be treated well. And so I made sure of it.

Dismas owed Courteney a favor, so they traded spots. Honestly, I think he was still nervous about what happened in the brothel. Considering his new quirk? He's probably wise to keep his head down and away from the Tavern Owner.

So the gold was spent on reserving church services for Seguier, Falaise, and Courteney. Guildersleeve keep giving longing glances to the bar, so I indulged her. The Tavern Owner looked geared up for a fight, but I'm not here for that. He took my coin, and we parted ways.

I respect the man's professionalism.

I also appreciate Dismas laying low.

There's enough gold left over for the next expedition. Now that Reynauld has been fixed, we will see how he leads.

'Perhaps there will be a worthwhile comrade amongst the fresh blood?'

When I went to receive the aspiring corpses, I was met with a Man-At-Arms. Who was at a distance from the wagon? Staring at it in disgust. When he saw me walk up he snapped into a salute.

I nod in greeting, then proceeded to the rocking wagon to see what was happening. The Man-At-Arms tried to stop me but failed. 'I wished he succeeded.'

The Hellion and Hound Master were in mid-coitus. The Hound barfing up some of my gold. Shadows grabbed the trio and threw them onto the street.

'I did not need that sight. The sheer disrespect.'

Mid-flight the Hellion grabbed her ax and rolled gracefully into a crouch. Springing towards me with a roar of rage. Ax held high, reflecting the sun's righteous light.

'It will not save her.'

Darkness wells beneath the hellion and slams her to the ground. Wrapping her in thick tendrils, that then clench. The adventurer turns into pulp, with the blood spray hitting the nearby buildings. And, to my satisfaction, coats her newest conquest.

The man is shaken, stunned, and horrified at how everything could go so wrong so fast. I wrap his hound in shadows, and he stumbles into a begging position. It would have been more effective if he still had pants.

'Lucky him, I'm soft towards such creatures. It gets to live. Not on your merit but for the kindness shown to me in the past.'

A curse and the dog gains Spasm of the Entrails. Puking and shitting out the coins it devoured. The hound master is shaken at the sight and then stares at me pleading.

"Every coin will be counted, cleaned, and then you may leave. Should even a single one be missing? You will suffer. Greatly."

The Caretaker appeared in my shadow when I gave my command to the damned soul. He will ensure that the task is taken care of. Then the man himself.

'The Weald will gain another mad beast.'

Approaching the Man-At-Arms, "If you wish to become my hero? Know this, I do not offer riches or glory. Though that may come in time. What I offer are purpose and death. A chance to cull the monsters that infest these lands and make a difference for those that follow you. The most difficult part of this is that you will be expected to serve with honor and virtue. In the end, you will likely die or gain great power and then die." I'm in no mood for sugarcoating or flowery words. Besides, excessive wordplay kills people on the battlefield.

"Aye, I don't doubt that Lass" He stared at the blood splatter and the cobbled town. Some of the buildings are in decent repair after my sacrifice of heirlooms. Many still are held by a prayer. "All the same. I came here for a reason, and I stand by it. Now I hear you have a brigand problem?"

My countenance lights up at the sheer hate that laced his voice at the thought of those vile men. One of the greatest sources of trouble. Already, I've found a recruit with a vendetta against them.

"I will take your Oaths in the Barracks." I stop and remember Dismas. "Understand though, while I will send you out against the monsters in the surrounding lands, you will not be fighting alone. Many of my men have sordid histories and may not be people you are fond of. People…people are sent here for a reason. You will be expected to fight the enemy and not your new brothers-in-arms. I will not allow dissent in my ranks. Am I clear?"

"Aye lass, I expected that too." He sighs but understands.

I don't move and only look at him.

"I give my word by my name and honor to work with your men. I'm used to working with unsavory sorts regardless."

He tries his best to search my soul and markedly comments, "The greatest evil is mankind after all."

If my eyes flare red at the poke? That's to my amusement and to his credit he doesn't look away. Pleased, I guide him to his new home and the oaths are given. He is introduced to his brothers-in-arms. They prepare for their mission at sunrise.

Omake: A Troubling Situation

I put down the missive with a groan. 'It's okay. There's no one here to witness the weakness.'

Shadows flicker around my desk, 'In any other case, I might have been angry with them.'

I pick up the damnable letter again, "Hail and Welcome Lord Adamos,

We of the farmlands of the Adamos Estate are grateful for your gracious inquiry into our lands. You're esteemed and bounteous family…"

I skim the paragraphs of flattery, searching for any lack of decorum or snide comments to strengthen my case. Any indication of a chink in the armor…and none. It's prewritten and suitable for any incoming Heir, which doesn't make it less effective.

"As things stand, and no doubt with your esteemed understanding, the farmlands are not claimed by the Adamos Heir. We are citizens of another Lord whom the honored Ancestor-"

'Abyssal Hells claim that bastard.'

I know it's useless. That doesn't stop the attempt to stretch my authority beyond my town. I dig into the land before expanding my concentration throughout the Hamlet. My spirit brushes the edges before getting rebuffed.

I have the right to contest and conquer. Though I have no current authority over the farmlands. The breadbasket has the barest obligation to me. I have no right nor ability to receive tribute from them. That has to be earned.

'Doesn't stop the Empire from taxing me on it.' I get up from the desk to stare out the window. It doesn't matter what. I just need to move. In the back of my mind, I register a slight breeze swirling with my emotions. I absently direct it in various shapes and directions.

'Some people fidget,' The wind dances as the temperature fluctuates, 'I play with powers that most could never dream of.' The shadows leap and dance as the fireplace and candles flare.

'I need to reclaim my estate piece by piece. Worse, I need to rely on the scraps of lowlifes sent me to do it.'

The urge to rampage, to act, is nothing but a distraction. One roughly shut down. It would do no good, and only be detrimental to my rule. Bound as I am, I have to rely on others to see my will done.

With disgust, I return to that infuriating letter. Justified, but bothersome nonetheless. Their census sits ominously beside it. Not a single one is over 30.

Not for the last few hundred years.

'After this long, it should be engrained in their culture now.'

The swine men take their taxes in grain and meat. Like many Lords, I doubt they care if the seasons or the Light are unforgiving and withhold the harvests.

The less grain they have the more meat must be paid.

'They can't afford to send me but the most meager of offerings.'

"A man's ration will go for 350 gold a piece."

'Exbordeant prices to discourage any attempts. By past treatise, they are forced to sell to the Hamlet upon request. The prices were never settled though.'

I toss the letter, it lands on top of the fishing village's correspondence. I take solace that the fish folk prefer gold and art as a tribute rather than food. That means the populace is motivated to sell their excess stock. It helps that during winter or greater storms, they seek shelter in my town. So their fates are tied to ours.

Certainly not a bad thing, 'I always did have a taste for fish.'

There's no purpose to reach out to the Ruins or the Weald. I have already decided on purging the land, and all that infest it. Reynauld was quite enthused with that idea. Which is good. He'll bring more like-minded murderers.

'The Church is relentless in its hunt for cultists and monsters. Bandits might be a lesser priority, but they are certainly not off-limits. Perhaps I should expand that faction of heroes?'

Plans and plots do not detract from the fact that for all its quaint name, the Hamlet is a proper town with a population shy of 3,000. That need to be fed, watered, and entertained. The vast majority are untrained laborers, and dependent on imports for processed goods.

'The only thing going for us is the pleasure district that the Tarven Owner precedes over and religious tourism. Both Dark and Light.'

I don't hate the cultists, not truly. Not with all of my family devoted to the Dark god. They are our lessers, but kinship is there. No, my issue is the trouble they stir and how they think it's their divine mission to test me. 'Patience as well as strength.'

'The Darkest Dungeon.' The Lord's Ring weighs heavy. 'The throne of the Dark god. A Seat of Power for it's champion.'

A mad cackle, 'There's no way I can win.'

A wide grin matches the one that lurks in the corner. 'When did he get there?' That doesn't matter.

'I can't win. That doesn't mean I won't fight to the bitter end.'

There's work to be done.

A/N: Welp we're now into the game. It's been a ride, and thanks for sticking with me.

Of course. I agonize over making an omake. Then when I finally give up, the day I'm about to post, it springs on me. I swear this story has a mischievous spirit to it. And I love every moment of it.

So an info dump and world-building. Also spoilers. Ciao, lovely people.