Chapter 17: Deep Sleep

Jack went straight into his room and collapsed onto his chair. His cane dropped to the floor with a clatter. The high-backed wooden chair was near the dying embers of the hearth. His breathing was ragged, and a sharp, blinding throb was behind his eyes from the severed mental links.

As he was in the quiet room, a sudden thought was in his mind.

What the…? Did I just think of killing someone? He stared down at his shaking hands. Down at the gates, he had ordered Bones to form a wall and repel the attackers. He hadn’t commanded the skeletons to kill the bandits, because deep down, he didn’t want to kill anyone. He was a modern man, a corporate worker, not a murderer.

“But again,” Jack reasoned with himself, “those are definitely bad guys. The peaceful concepts and laws of my old world definitely won’t apply here in this wasteland. But still…”

His head was back against the chair. The headache was intense.

“And now that I think about it… from the very moment I transmigrated into this body, I haven’t put much thought into my own mind or my old life at all. I have been doing things like I am following some sort of script. Securing coal, raising skeletons, building greenhouses. It was all so automatic.”

Before his mind could dive any deeper into that strange realization, the magical and physical exhaustion of the day was over him. A overwhelming darkness covered his vision. He didn’t even have the strength to crawl into his bed. He fell into a very deep, dreamless sleep right there in the wooden chair.

Knock. Knock.

“Lord Jack?”

The voice was outside the door. Jack slowly opened his eyes. The room was dim, but a fresh, crackling fire was in the stone hearth, casting a warm orange glow over the walls. His body was stiff from sleeping in the chair, but his mind felt remarkably clear. The agonizing headache was entirely gone.

“Come in, Karen,” Jack said, his voice a bit raspy.

The door opened. Karen was there, and a wooden tray was in her hands. A bowl was on the tray, filled with thick, hot porridge, dried peas, and a small, slice of salted pork. The steam from the bowl was thick in the air, and the rich, savory smell was instantly comforting.

“You are finally awake, My Lord,” Karen said with a massive sigh of relief. She set the tray on his desk and brought the bowl over to him. “I was so worried. I came in to check your fire and found you completely unresponsive. I didn’t want to move you.”

Jack took the warm bowl. The heat of the bowl was pleasant against his cold fingers. “How long was I asleep?”

“Nearly two full days, Lord Jack,” Karen said, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “It is the third day of the siege.”

Jack took a slow bite of the hot porridge. The taste of the salt pork was incredible after weeks of thin turnip broth. .

“How is the work?” Jack asked between bites. “How are our people holding up?”

“The people are safe,” Karen answered, a small, proud smile on her face. “The Great Hall was warm all night. Giles and the men have been taking shifts watching the tree line. The bandits are still out there, but their campfires were very small. The real problem is the weather.”

“The weather?”

“A massive storm was over the valley while you slept,” Karen explained, her smile fading into worry. “The snow was relentless. It is three feet deep in the courtyard right now. The paths to the armory and the cellars are completely blocked. And the greenhouse…”

Jack stopped eating. “What about the greenhouse?”

“The heat inside is fine, and the little green shoots are still growing,” Karen said quickly. “But the snow was so heavy on the glass roof. Giles was worried that the glass might shatter under the weight of it if it isn’t cleared soon. But the men cannot go out to shovel. The bandits have their scavenged crossbows pointed at the courtyard.”

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Jack looked down at his bowl. He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully as the warmth of the food settled in his stomach.

“We must eliminate the bandits,” Jack said quietly, his voice carrying a pragmatic certainty. “Or at least their mages. We cannot let them sit outside our walls and hold us hostage all winter.”

“But how, My Lord?” Karen whispered. “They have dozens of men.”

“I will figure it out,” Jack said, handing her the empty bowl. “For now, we need to protect our food supply. Tell Giles not to worry about the snow on the glass. The mages will handle it.”

Karen gave a knowing nod, taking the tray. “I will let the men know, Lord Jack. Have a good evening.”

Once the door was shut, Jack walked over to the window. It was already night time.

Down below, the courtyard was a disaster. The snow was like a thick white blanket. A massive pile of wet slush was over the roof of the greenhouse. The wooden frames were strong, but the antique glass was fragile. If it cracked, the freezing wind would rush in, and their entire winter crop would die in minutes.

Jack hobbled over to the corner of his room. He pulled the bear-skin rug aside and opened the trapdoor.

He didn’t need to go all the way down. He was on the edge of the opening, closed his eyes, and reached his mind into the dark depths of the crypt.