Puss In Boots, a fairy tales fanfic

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is kind of a departure for me, but I figured it might be a nice change just for something "different". I recently acquired a big book of Grimm's Fairy Tales, and I figured I'd try my hand at retelling some of the more "obscure" ones for the modern audience, as so few people are acquainted with the non-Disneyfied ones. Still working on "The Sorceress Cycle"...this is just a side project.

I want to do four in all, and I'm starting with this. This is the most "popular" one of the four (a name that people actually recognize), but for those of you who are only familiar with this story from Shrek or the Dreamworks movie, this will hopefully be a treat. Enjoy.

"PUSS IN BOOTS"

Adapted from the fairy tale

On and on Philippe watched the assessors work, but even after thirty minutes they were still not done loading. By now, he was beyond sweating, and was fully into being quite afraid. He began to wonder if there would be anything left…

Did dad really run up that much debt?

Guy, his oldest brother, was desperately trying to talk up the value of a wagon that was currently being taken away by the men who the assessor had brought along. The argument was progressively getting more vocal, but the laborers did nothing but continue to hitch it up to the horses they had already seized. Mallory, the next eldest, was pacing about and cursing up a storm…and Philippe could hardly blame him. Probably the only reason he wasn't doing the same was because he still felt a bit of lingering grief…although it seemed the local lord was doing everything in his power to make him forget about that and worry more about his livelihood. Aside from them, the only other individual out there was the lawyer. Every so often, he would sigh and scratch out another item on a document. Except for numbers, Philippe couldn't read a word…but he had a pretty good idea that he didn't want the lawyer to cross out much more, especially since part of the items on that piece of paper had to take care of his fee as well.

Philippe never really appreciated what they had before now. Like most people of his state in life, only able to do the dullest of manual labor, and not much of that, he spent most of his days noticing what they didn't have or had to replace. Not finery or frivolous things, of course…but things like clothes, food, dishware, and, of course, everything they needed to keep the mill in order.

His father did have the advantage of owning the only windmill in town, and on some years, the livelihood had been rather good, all things considered. A miller could do slightly better than his farmer peers on good years with lots of grain. Unfortunately, many of the last few years had not been kind. Philippe was only ten when his mother passed on, leaving just him, his older brothers, and his father. It was a fact of life, especially considering where they lived, but that didn't mean it was easy…especially not on his father. He really didn't think he ever recovered from that.

Now, here he stood, six years later. Most young men at his point in life and from his background would be rather built-up and strong, skilled at the trade that had been passed along to them. And truth be told, Philippe did know a thing or two about milling as well as farming…yet none of that was by choice. When it came his turn to join his father in the milling profession, he already had two older and stronger brothers assisting him. It was rare that a family would have three boys and have them survive into adulthood. And since a mill wasn't a farm, where more hands were always welcome, he mostly just served to "get in the way", and never built his strength up as much as his older brothers. In fact, there had been many days he was told to simply go out and tend the meager vegetable garden or make himself useful in some other way through housework or running into town for some replacement tool or other necessity.

Hence, although he was as able as anyone would be who worked manual labor for a living, he wasn't quite as rough or strong as his brothers, and had a thin, weaker look about him. Most of the other hard laborers were more than a match for him, although among people who toiled less he was more than an equal. He was of average height despite his thinner frame, and, to be honest, he was quite handsome. His mother had been beautiful and his father wasn't too bad himself, and, unlike his brothers, he seemed to inherit the qualities of both. It wasn't uncommon for him to get a smile and a wave from younger girls whenever he went into town. Older ones, however, focused more on his shabby hand-me-downs which had been stretched out from three different people before reaching him, his patches on his knees, his shoes with at least three holes in each…and realized there was nothing to gain by courting him other than a pleasant face.

Since he was usually sent on errands such as fetching things from town or drawing water or tending the asses, he got to see a lot of the countryside. The other farmers, the herders, and even the dairy farmers. He learned a thing or two about their trade as he went along as well, overhearing some of their techniques and skills with time. Yet all of that really didn't avail him much. Such things were useless unless you had the means to use them…a fact he was discovering now.

Aside from that, there had really only been one other pastime for Philippe: Gaston.

The family cat was one in a long line of tomcats that had been brought into the house over the years. After all, it was foolish not to have one when you dealt with grain. Only about three years old, he was quite the skilled feline. Definitely the best rat and mouse catcher they had in a long while. Nevertheless, when times were hard, neither his father nor his brothers paid him much mind.

It was all the same to Gaston. Like any good and clever cat, he never seemed to want for anything. There were more than enough mice for him to feed himself, for he was quite good at his "trade", and he even entertained himself frequently with batting them around. He'd go out and wander from time to time, but would always come back. Most of the family never seemed to notice him, however, and would be fine if he simply disappeared. It was Philippe, who spent almost all of his time making himself useful outside of the mill, that ended up spending the most time with him. While the others ignored him, he would pet him and rub his belly at night when he came indoors, and allowed him on his bed in the winter. He saw no reason to neglect the cat, as good as he was.

He would have much rather preferred to work at the mill, though, but his chances to become as strong or skilled at the trade as his brothers vanished over the next six years. Four of them were bad, and the grain harvest was small. Not only did that mean that there was less work at the mill, but it meant the poorer farmers had to save whatever they could and therefore put their own families and beasts of burden into grinding the grain into flour. As the years had gone by, not only had the family had to tighten their belts (or ropes, which was more appropriate), but their father had run up a huge debt getting them through each winter.

It had been a week ago, a month before harvest season, that their father finally collapsed. The next day, he requested a will be made out, and called for a lawyer. Naturally, it wasn't a "real" lawyer—more akin to a minor official who had the authority to put forth legal documents. They couldn't afford more than that. Two days later, he died, and almost all that had been made during the meager season was spent to purchase a burial plot and wood to make the coffin. After that came the funeral, and now, today, came the matter of the inheritance.

Philippe wasn't feeling too good at the moment. He had never had any idea how many debts his father still owed, but he didn't like the bits and pieces that he overheard. And still the assessor took more. Even if there was anything left at this point, he was still in trouble. He was the youngest of three sons, so he received the smallest share by default. He feared there being anything left at all for him. It wasn't a matter of greed…but practicality. He had to be able to support himself somehow, after all.

At last, after fifteen more minutes, the assessor, who had already loaded up every last tool within the mill as well as a great deal of their personal possessions, road off using their own wagon to carry part of the load. The lawyer scratched off the last few items, continuing to do so when the sound of the wagon departed and Guy and Mallory both turned to him and waited. They too looked rather nervous. However, at last, he looked up at them.

"Alright young men…come with me."

If anyone needed any further confirmation about the "lawyer's" status, they needed look no further than his house. It wasn't any better furnished than Philippe's family's, just as the man was scarcely any better dressed than them. However, his wife still seemed to be able to afford tea, even if it was in an old kettle. And since he was kind enough to offer some, Philippe took it after he and his brothers had sat down around it…hoping beyond hope it wasn't the last "meal" he'd see for a while.

Once everyone had settled in and the tea was taken away, the lawyer, an old, grizzled man dressed in shabby, used clothes whose style vaguely resembled that of a noble's servant, but served to show his status in terms of literacy and legal authority, pulled out the paper and set it in front of him…showing a great many scratches through it. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, then looked up at the three young men and folded his hands.

"There's really no point in trying to make this easier, so I'll be blunt. Almost everything had to be sold to finish settling your father's debts. That includes the wagon and horses, as you saw, but also the house and all the furnishings. You have until tomorrow morning to clear out what personal belongings you have there."

There was unified miserable looks from the brothers at that, all of them looking rather unhappy. After all, that meant they now officially weren't even starting out with a roof over their heads. As far as "personal belongings" were concerned…Philippe had next to none. It was his brothers who always got to work in the mill who had been able to save up enough money to buy possessions of their own. Philippe was beginning to feel rather bad at this point already. However, after a moment to let this settle in, the lawyer continued.

"There isn't much left behind, but here it is," he stated, looking down to the will. "To the eldest…Guy…"

Guy looked up at that, and the others soon looked to the lawyer as well.

"Your father left you the mill itself."

Philippe didn't react, although he wanted to frown. He knew it only figured. The eldest would inherit the business, after all.

"To the next oldest…Mallory…"

The second brother slowly inhaled and exhaled.

"All remaining livestock…which means the three asses."

Philippe now felt his palms begin to sweat. The house was gone. The mill and the asses were spoken for. Almost everything he could think of was loaded onto the wagons and taken away. What exactly was left?

"Finally, to the youngest…Philippe…"

Swallowing a bit, the young man looked to the lawyer. However, the old man paused, blinked, and then looked over the document a bit longer. He even turned it over, seeming to try to find something else.

That definitely didn't look good.

A brown mouse slowly crept across the wooden floor. After all, many of its brethren had already met their end in here…but outside was far worse. There was usually a supply of grain within the human dwelling, and it was willing to risk its life to try and get to the pantry. Besides, it was still only ten feet away from the hole it had crawled in through…and its destination was ten more feet ahead. With that in mind, it continued to creep further.

Two more feet, and it stopped again. It was now at the threshold into the kitchen, and looked about. No sign of the "scourge" of the house. It didn't even so much as see a tail flickering from anywhere. Nevertheless, it was too quiet. The mouse paused, and looked back to its hole. It seemed so far away now…so remote… Yet it wanted food. It turned back around, intending to keep going farther…and froze.

A black and white tomcat was standing before it, looking down and smiling wide enough to see all of its teeth.

"Hello, friend," he said, grinning. "You read my mind. I was just starting to get a bit hungry."

The mouse, naturally, didn't respond. It snapped around and bolted for the hole.

The cat sighed, and slowly began to walk after it. "Oh no… Don't…please…wait…come back… How will I ever catch you if you run away so fast…?" he stated in a bored, sarcastic tone. He continued to watch the mouse and wait. Five feet from the hole…four feet…three feet… Smiling again…the cat took off…and in four easy bounds…landed right on top of the hole…smiling again at the mouse, which froze in its tracks.

"Hello, again. Leaving so soon? What about lunch?"

The mouse took off again, this time heading for the furnishings and moving in between the tables and chairs, no doubt to try and get the cat blocked. But he merely chuckled, and followed it right on its heels, easily twisting and moving in between chair legs, bounding over furniture instead of going under it, and tailing it all the way behind a cupboard, where the mouse made a beeline for another hole. It nearly reached it, and actually got far enough to dip its head inside…

Before the cat's jaws clamped on its tail, and tugged it back out.

"Uh oh…" he said between clenched jaws. "Naughty. Trying to go where I can't follow? Back to start with you."

Carrying the mouse back out, he gave it a causal toss in the air, and then batted it with a paw to send it flying right back to the very spot where they first "met". The mouse quickly took off again, and the cat merely snickered as he ran after it again.

After two more aborted escape attempts, the cat finally caught the mouse, tossed it up again, rolled on his back, and batted it to and fro with its paws like a juggler. For more fun, he even brought his two lower paws into the mix, and laughed to himself as he continued to play. Finally, he decided he was amused enough for now. Letting the mouse into the air one more time, he opened his jaws wide…and clamped down with a finishing bite. After going limp, it took only a few more bites for the mouse to vanish.

That done, he looked up and swished his tongue in his mouth a bit, frowning. "Even the mice in here are getting on the thin side. It must have been a really bad year…"

As he began to think about finding another and maybe not playing so much this time around, he suddenly heard the door click and then open. The cat quickly sat up and looked over to it.

It was Philippe…although he didn't exactly look in the best of moods. In fact, he looked in a rather sour one. The cat watched him a moment, at first thinking it was more grief and depression over losing the old man. Yet he realized that had eased over the past two days. This was something new…something more "angry".

Giving a smile, the cat rose up and bounded over to his "housemate"…for no cat truly thought of any human as an "owner". "Good afternoon, young master," he said as he moved over to him. "Was all of that legal business taken care of?"

Philippe looked up to the cat once…and, for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "…Yes," he finally stated in a none-too-friendly tone.

The cat didn't mind, and simply made his way toward the young man as he entered the house, moved over to the table, and sat down. "Upset because you got so little out of it, eh?" The cat shook his head and "tsked." "You humans…always worried so much about money and things. It astonishes us cats that you spend so much time worrying over all of that. You make all of this so-called 'wealth' for yourselves, and then scramble to see who has more and who doesn't. While I, on the other hand, am happy as can be lying in the sun and dining on the occasional mouse. Humans could learn a thing or two from us cats."

Philippe didn't answer…or even look at the cat as he sat there. He was brooding, looking at the table and seeming like he'd burn a hole in it with his eyes. The cat noticed this, and did something rare. He paused to think about what he had said. After a moment, he moved up to Philippe again and rubbed his back against his legs, curling around them.

"Oh, come on, Philippe…what could be so bad? Did you not get anything at all from your father?"

A moment later, the cat almost shrank back…for he felt Philippe's legs tense. For the first time since he had known the boy, he seemed like he wanted to kick him out of anger. However, in the end, the young man relented, giving a sigh, and relaxed again.

"No…he left me something," he said slowly.

The cat bounded into the nearest chair, and then leapt up again onto the table. Philippe looked at him a bit darkly in response.

"The house?" the cat asked.

"No," the young man answered. "Actually, this is our last night in here. It gets given to dad's debt collectors along with the land tomorrow, so they'll probably burn it."

The cat snickered. "You silly humans. You go to all of the trouble of building a perfectly good house, and then you go and burn it. Anyway…the mill? The livestock? The plot?"

"All of that's either gone or going to my brothers," Philippe answered.

The cat began to lick one of his paws. "Well, don't keep me in suspense…what, then?"

Again, the young man's eyes narrowed.

"…I'm looking at him."

The cat actually froze in the middle of licking, and stared at Philippe.

"You, Gaston," the boy finished. "All my father left me was you."

The cat continued to pause for a brief moment, still in the same position…before breaking into a smile as he put his paw down.

"Well now, I'm glad to see that your father had the sense to leave the most valuable possession to the youngest."

Philippe merely groaned and rose from the table, then headed over to the straw mattress beds on the other side of the room.

Gaston sighed and began to rise to go after him. "Alright, alright…obviously you're not in the mood for that right now."

"Not in the mood?" Philippe echoed as he went over to the mattress. "My inheritance is a cat! What I have to make my entire livelihood…what I have to live off of…is a cat! What am I supposed to do? Hire myself out as a ratcatcher?"

Gaston gave a shrug as he walked across the table toward him. "It's a way to go. You can have a lot of fun catching those things. Not the Norwegian ones, though. They bite back."

The young man groaned and practically threw himself on the mattress, then rolled over on his back. "I can't live off of owning a cat, Gaston. This is practically a joke. Exactly how many people do you know of who get by just from having cats? I mean…sheesh…if people could do that, everyone would be going after all the strays in the streets…"

The cat leapt off of the table, moved over to the mattress, and then jumped on and sat at the foot of it at an open space, giving a snicker. "I'd like to see one of those mangy furballs catch mice nearly as good as me."

Philippe looked down to him and groaned. "You see? That's just it! You don't have any problem with this because you're a cat. You can get by on mice no problem, and there's no shortage of them anytime soon. But what am I going to do?"

"Start growing your nails long, is my advice," Gaston answered. "Those little nubs will never be able to hook into one."

The young man groaned and leaned back. "…I wonder how many days I'll get by on the street before I have to resort to eating you for my last meal."

The cat sighed and shook his head, like a parent scolding a simple child. "Philippe, Philippe, Philippe…" he said as he began to crawl forward, until he was alongside the young man's head. "You humans and your heads full of problems… You make mountains out of molehills. You make everything seem like it's entirely hopeless. You think of us cats as being so small and weak, when it's you who never see how simple everything is."

The boy sighed as he closed his eyes. "I don't think you're small and weak…I think you're skilled at staying alive. But humans need to not only have a trade, they need to have the means to get started out. As it is, probably the best I can do is hire myself out as a laborer. And I already know I'm smaller and scrawnier than most laborers, which means I'd only get hired during a big harvest…and this city hasn't had a big harvest in four years. I could work the rest of my life and never be able to afford a mill of my own…"

"A mill? Pft," Gaston answered, flipping over on his back much like Philippe and looking at the ceiling before closing his eyes. "So long as you're dreaming of the future, why not dream big? Why do you want the same miserable life your father had? To leave your own kids to grasp at the crumbs left behind? Why not wish to be rich, or something?"

Philippe actually let out a half-chuckle. "I can wish for a lot of things, Gaston. Actually getting them is something else entirely."

"I'm sure your dad would have wanted something better for you."

The boy frowned. "Maybe he should have left me more than a cat, then…"

"Sir, you insult me," Gaston answered, opening his eyes again and looking at him. "Sure, I take the easy life, because that's all I need to worry about. Sleep in the sun…get some exercise and supper from the mice…and let you give me a nice belly rub from time to time. But don't you ever wonder how we cats make all of this look so easy? It's because we're far more clever than you give us credit for. I can get by just doing that. You should see what I can do when I put myself to good use."

The young man snorted.

Gaston sprung around and patted his cheek with a paw. "Oh, don't you 'pooh-pooh' me, my young master, or I'll show you these claws are good for more than killing mice." With a nimble leap, he landed on the chest of Philippe, causing him to react a bit, enough to open his eyes. The cat, however, lay down on top and looked right in his eyes.

"You were right to say that the world is full of mice…but the world is also full of grain. And gold. And property. And opportunity. And it's a lot easier to get ahold of than you can possibly imagine."

Philippe still frowned. "…Says the animal who's never had a piece of copper to his name. What would you know about making money?"

"Would you believe as much as catching mice and rats?" Gaston answered with a toothy grin.

The young man kept frowning and nearly looked away, but before he could, Gaston reached out a paw and gestured his head to look back at him.

"I'm serious here, Philippe. You think you got the raw deal out of this arrangement, but I'm telling you that you got the best one. Now I promise you…" He reared up into a sitting position and raised a paw in the air. "…As God is my witness, I can make your fortune for you faster and better than any mill or team of jackasses ever could."

The boy merely looked at him in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "You honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Have I ever let you down before?"

"The only thing I've ever told you to do is catch mice!"

The cat grinned again. "And if you think that's such a small matter…let's see you catch one."

Philippe couldn't think of a good retort to that. Instead, he merely groaned…scarcely able to believe he was arguing so long with the cat about this. He turned away before Gaston could stop him, forcing the cat to leap back off onto the mattress.

"My plan is foolproof, Philippe," he said with a shrug. "I've been keeping my eyes and ears open for a while. It's been stewing in my head for a bit, and I guarantee you there's no way it can fail. The best part is it requires only a minimal amount of investment on your part. I really only need one thing from you."

A bit eager to get Gaston to be quiet, Philippe sighed. "And what is that?"

"You have any money?"

"Not much. Five deniers. That's enough to feed us for a couple days, but…"

"Nevermind that. Alright, I lied. I'll need three things from you. First…you think the debt collectors will mind if you take a sack with you? Not a bad one, mind you…one that's almost new."

Philippe sighed again. "I suppose not."

"And how about enough lentils to fill up the bottom of it?"

He paused again. "…I guess not, but we don't even have a pot to boil them in. Is that what you want me to buy?"

"No, I want you to buy me some boots."

Philippe, who had closed his eyes at this point, suddenly opened them up again, and turned incredulously to Gaston. "…What?"

"Nice ones, too. Something fit for a nobleman," the cat answered with a smile. "Nothing cheap or for a worker. Stylish…with a touch of flair."

Philippe immediately sat up and looked down at the cat as if his last two meals had crawled out of his ears. "Are you crazy? Just because you can eat mice doesn't mean I can live off of that! That money is the only real possession I have!"

"Correction…I'm the only real possession you have, and I swear I'm worth more to you than five deniers."

"You're mad!" Philippe retorted. "I won't even be able to feed myself tomorrow!"

"I'll handle that," the cat responded with a smile. "Trust me, you provide me with those things, and you won't have to worry about a thing from now on. We got a deal?"

"No!" the young man retorted. "You've spent three years in this house just catching mice, then all of the sudden you tell me you know all about making money, that you can give me a fortune, and all if I spend what little money I have to give you a pair of boots? This is crazy!"

"Precisely, young master!" The cat grinned. "And exactly how far has 'playing it sane' gotten you? Last I looked…it's gotten you five deniers and a cat."

Philippe began to fume. However, as he did, Gaston moved forward and climbed into his lap. He looked up at him afterward…and his look made Philippe pause. For the first time he could recall, that cat looked neither casual nor arrogant nor mocking…but serious.

"Philippe…" he began more quietly. "We've known each other for three years. And in that time, I've never once given you reason to distrust me or be unhappy with me. You've told me before how you think I'm the most clever cat you've ever known…but I promise you that you haven't seen the half of it. If you listen to me and trust me just for this…you'll never regret it. I assure you of that. Besides, let's say I'm wrong. If I am…then what did you lose? Five days more before you slipped into poverty or begging?" He smiled a bit again. "Come on…give me a chance. I'm your inheritance, after all…what your dad left you to make a living with. You owe it to me and yourself."

The young man stared back, saying nothing. Yet the cat, never blinking, continued to stare hopefully at him. There was silence between the two. Inside the boy's mind, this was madness. There was no reason to believe any of this would ever amount to anything. And yet, as he stared on…he did realize he had very little to lose. Mad as this sounded, so was giving a young man a cat as an inheritance to begin with. Although he expected no success, the cat was his only companion now. And like he said…he had always been dependable, and Philippe had always thought of him as being the most clever creature he had ever encountered…

In the end, he slowly exhaled.

"You're never going to regret this, Philippe."

"…I already regret it."

"You'll hate yourself for regretting it later."

Gaston had at least been right about the sack and lentils. No one would really miss those, a bill collector or otherwise. His brothers certainly hadn't cared when he got up the next morning after their last night in the house and took them with him. Then again, he had gotten the "rawest deal", so perhaps they were humoring him. He was even able to pack a few more sheets and blankets for something to sleep on, and a quantity of rope. Taking only that and his "inheritance," the boy set out for town.

It took the better part of the morning to arrive, for it was several miles off and Philippe didn't find anyone willing to have him hitch a ride, but they made it. It was fairly large. One of the main roads of the kingdom ran right through the middle, and that brought a great deal of traffic in, both from lower class types as well as higher class. The town actually brought in a fair enough amount of commerce to make many of the local shop-owners rather well off, and occasionally wealthier individuals would stop at the inn or eat at the local tavern. Yet none of that was a concern to Philippe at the moment.

Reluctant, miserable, wondering how he had been talked into this, and with Gaston having given up walking and deciding to ride on his shoulders instead, he approached the front door of the local shoemaker and pushed it open, setting off the small bell over the door as he did so.

"You have no idea how lucky we are to live in this town," Gaston stated as they passed through the threshold. "You know how hard it would be to find a shoemaker of this quality normally in any run-of-the-mill village?"

Philippe said nothing as he entered, although he could see how many shoes were for sale in the place, and how many of them were of superior quality and make to any footwear that he or his family had ever worn. But that was simply due to lack of money to afford good ones. At any rate, the noise of the bell alerted the shoemaker. There was a counter/workbench to the rear, and it had a rear entrance covered with a curtain. Soon, it was brushed aside, and a white-haired, bearded, and balding man walked in, a pair of spectacles on his nose. He paused for a moment on seeing Gaston on Philippe's shoulders, but then looked to the young man.

"Good morning, young master. What can I do for you?"

Philippe was silent for a few seconds…until he felt Gaston sinking his claws into his shoulder, which made him finally say it. "…I need a pair of boots made."

The shoemaker paused. He gave Philippe a look over, and his jaw squared a bit. "I'll have to ask for payment in advance, young man. I'll make alterations if you don't like the finished boots, though."

Philippe reached into his pocket, frowning all the way, and soon pulled out his meager pouch. Opening it up, he began to get out the coins. As he was about to pass them over…suddenly he felt Gaston lean up a bit.

"Excuse me, sir…but how many pairs of boots could we get for the amount the young man has at the moment? Nice ones. Classy ones."

Philippe frowned a bit at the cat interjecting, but he seemed to get the shoemaker's attention. Rolling his eyes, Philippe had no choice but to hold out his five deniers. The shoemaker looked at them, and adjusted his spectacles a bit.

"…For this?" he answered. "One pair…barely."

This, however, only made Gaston smile. "One pair for the young man?"

"Yes," the shoemaker answered with a nod. "Although I'm probably losing out on it."

"Well, it's a good thing that pair isn't for the young man then," the cat answered. "It's for me, actually. And since I'm so much smaller, I'm sure there'll be change, yes?"

The shoemaker paused, his voice catching in his throat. He had just walked right into that. On hearing how Gaston had baited the man into this deal, Philippe couldn't help but be a bit surprised at the cat's cleverness. For a brief moment…a teeny, tiny part of him wondered if the cat had been telling the truth about getting him his wealth…

The shoemaker finally gave in. "…I suppose that's right."

"Good!" Gaston answered with a smile. "In that case, if it's not too much trouble, I could go for some accessories… How about a nice hat to go with it? With some plumage? And a belt too."

Philippe's feelings about Gaston's cleverness evaporated as easily as his change did on hearing that.

The shoemaker, however, had made his bed and had to sleep in it. "Very well…"

"Oh, and please get started right away," the cat added. "We're in a terrible hurry, as it were, and it took too long to get into town as it is."

Philippe had to admit…he was rather impressed.

The shoemaker did indeed know his craft well, giving Gaston a pair of excellent boots…stylish, neat, elegant…everything one would expect a nobleman to wear. The belt matched perfectly as well, with a great buckle across it. Finally, the hat he wore was debonair and grand, even with a matching feather that made the cat look both bold and sophisticated. Philippe was a bit in awe. Gaston had abandoned walking on all fours, and instead walked upright now…and looked both suave and sophisticated, like he was a whole different cat from some realm of nobility.

After leaving the store, and Gaston showing off his ease with being bipedal as well as four-legged, and soon attracting a great deal of stares both from the locals as well as Philippe, he couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. "I guess I look good, don't I?"

In spite of the fact that he had spent the last bit of money to his name on Gaston's finery, and wondering how this would work, Philippe couldn't help but smile and nod. I might as well be in good humor. It seems that money did a bit more than I thought. "I hardly recognize you in that ensemble. You look like you're in the service of the king, practically."

The cat looked at Philippe…and, a bit to the boy's surprise, had a very calm and "knowing" look in his eyes when he did so.

"I'm about to tell you something very important, Phillipe, that I want you to remember… With the right outer appearance, even the dirtiest vagabond can seem a magnificent gentleman."

The seriousness with which Gaston said this, even as he had his normal smile…actually made the young man pause for a bit. However, it lasted only a moment. Clapping his paws, Gaston looked up.

"Alright, Philippe…you've just made the best investment of your life. On that note, it's time to get to work. Hand me the sack."

Having gone along this far, the boy readily removed it and handed it over. It was rather big for the cat, but he managed to sling it over one shoulder. Once that was done, he looked back up to Philippe.

"Now then, you go find yourself a common area to loiter about in, preferably one with a pit for making fire. Some place to set up for the night. Gather some kindling for our meal while you're at it."

Philippe's face fell a bit. "We don't have anything."

"I'll be handling the meals from now on, so don't you worry about that. I'll be back this evening."

"Where are you going?"

"To get us some supper, of course," Gaston answered with a smile. "And to run an errand while I'm at it."

Philippe raised an eyebrow. "…What kind of errand?"

"Step one of my brilliant plan," the cat answered casually. "That's all you need to know."

The boy sighed in response. As for the cat, keeping the sack, he turned and moved to head off down the road. He didn't get far before he paused, and then looked back.

"Oh, one other thing," he told him. "While you're hanging about town, if you see any of those rich noble types come by…do yourself a favor. Start listening to them. See if you can learn a few words. Check out how they walk. Pick up on the manners they use. Manners are important. Very important."

This only made Philippe look confused. "…Why?"

"Ah, ah…trust your 'inheritance,'" the cat answered with a smile…and then turned and ran off down the road.

The going had been easier than Gaston had hoped. He was able to hitch a ride on several wagons and horses as he started heading east, down the main road. In time, the village had been left behind and was replaced with fields. Those too soon faded, and beyond that, the country turned wilder. A forest grew all around him, and the air overhead became opaque as the road itself was overgrown with thick branches. Yet before it got too bad, he managed to catch a glimpse of one other thing…

Gaston knew he was lucky in more than one regard. Not only did the town have an excellent shoemaker, but it was the nearest township to the local ruler, King Andre. He owned both the town as well as all of the surrounding townships for many miles. Quite a wealthy sort, too. Gaston had often been out and about from the house of the miller, and every month around the same time, he would see the royal carriage. It was always accompanied by a splendid retinue, and the carriage itself was made of fine wood overlain with gold filigree, and pulled by four magnificent horses. Naturally, he had never seen the king face to face, but he dared say he got closer than most. After all, those with him really didn't care whether or not a common cat came near. And in doing so, he had picked up a valuable tidbit of information.

The king owned many herds and livestock, but he rarely ate of it. He kept them for milk, wool, and eggs, and avoided eating them if he could. His preference was for game. He almost always had his huntsmen going out for an appetizing dish every day. But skilled as they were, they relied on horses of large, ungainly size…and therefore couldn't venture too deep into the forest where the better game was. After all, they had to be able to get out and back as soon as possible.

A cat, even one in boots, on the other hand…

Once deep enough in the forest, whistling a bit to himself, Gaston turned to the woods and ventured inside. He made sure to go in nice and deep, past areas which had been damaged by storms and winds, and under deep thickets…all the places the hunters would never tread and, if they did, would not be able to find any game they managed to hit.

Once he found what he believed to be a "good spot," the cat got to work. Smiling and humming a pleasant tune, he took some of the rope that Philippe had claimed from his old house and tied it around the neck of the bag, then tied the other end to his foot. He adjusted the bag enough to let out some of the lentils. That done, he admired his work for a moment before extending his claws and ascending the nearest tree, until he positioned himself on a branch directly over the sack. Taking up the slack of the rope until it was taut, he let out a yawn, leaned back on the branch, tipped his hat a bit over his eyes, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long at all. The creatures of the forest had learned to fear wolves, foxes, and men…but not cats. The sack of lentils hung open, inviting and wide enough to let whatever came along crawl right inside. And something did come along after a time…a nice fat rabbit. It ventured out of the underbrush, wiggled its nose a bit, and spotted the lentils. It risked going a bit closer. Its ears flicked around the area, and its black eyes gazed about…but saw no danger. Finally, deciding it was safe, the rabbit moved to the lentils and began to nibble. After eating the few on the outside, and seeing more within, it went in further…

It wasn't long before it was joined. Two more rabbits, both also fat, came along, attracted to the smell as well as the sight of another rabbit eating. One after another, they vanished into the sack as well, until all three were eating the lentils inside.

The cat seemed oblivious to all of this at first, idle and basking as he was…but the moment the third began to eat, a smile went over his face. At once, the cat threw himself off the side of the tree branch. The cord pulled taut, and then snapped up. The rabbits, realizing the danger, tried to run for it, but they were too late. The neck of the sack was closed, and soon the weight of the cat pulled them upright. A moment later, and the cat landed right next to the bag. With an easy swipe of his claws, he cut himself down and landed next to the sack.

Gaston started by reaching into the bag. A moment later, he pulled out one of the fat rabbits. He quickly bound it with some rope and tied up the sack with the other. After that was done, he looked around a bit until he spotted a tree hollow. Taking the tied rabbit, he ran over to it, climbed inside, and hung it within.

"Don't go anywhere," he said with a smile to the rabbit as it ineffectually tried to escape. "I've got one more stop to make, and then I'll be back for you."

With that, he leapt back down to the ground, snatched up the sack, slung it over his shoulder, and began to move again.

By the time Gaston left the forest, he was feeling rather winded and tired. Two rabbits would be a hard load to move if they were young and thin. But as these ones were older and fat, the cat had a rather hard time moving along with them. He was lucky that a wagon came by that was headed where he was going, and he was able to hitch a ride again. Soon, they had left the forest, and more country and fields, much nicer and richer ones, with more workers tending to them, passed by. Beyond that, he began to see planted trees and hedge rows for some distance. At long last, after that, he saw his destination.

King Andre's castle.

It was even more impressive up close, high with multiple towers and steeples and spread over a vast tract of land. Lovely banners floated in the wind, hung from every parapet. The castle itself was uphill, but a deep gorge ran in front of it as a natural moat, and an elegant stone bridge with high arches had been built across it. Wonderful trees full of spring flowers had been planted in the gardens all around, where noblemen and women went about conversing with one another and enjoying their daily amusements. Finely dressed and armed guards stood on every wall, and, as Gaston neared, the number of carts and wagons going by it testified to the wealth of the estate. It was quite a magnificent sight indeed.

While still at a distance, Gaston dismounted, even though it would mean a bit of a walk uphill before he could reach the castle. He took a moment to collect himself, making sure he knew the "plan" perfectly. When that was done, he took in one last deep breath, and smiled at the elegant, noble estate.

"Showtime."

The cat pulled the bag over his shoulder, and began to advance down the road.

Not too much farther, Gaston began to pant and heave a bit under his load…although it was clear it wasn't due simply to him being tired from the trip. He seemed to be straining more on purpose. As he continued to near the castle, it wasn't long before passing wagons spotted him, and their denizens gave pause…seeing a cat in a hat and boots carrying a massive load over his back. Closer yet, and the guards and sentries spotted him as well, and gave the same strange looks.

At last, he came to the end of the bridge, right before a pair of armored guards looking at him. The cat stopped, but panted for a bit, looking to be trying to catch his breath and having come a long way on foot. Finally, after a bit, he drew himself up and, with a seeming great gesture to attempt to be proper and dignified, he looked to the guards.

"If you will pardon me, sirs…I wish to gain an audience with the king."

Both guards paused and gave the cat a strange look. They both seemed highly confused, not only at the cat's appearance, but also at his request. Under normal conditions, they might have driven him off and mocked him on sight. However, the situation, confusing as it was, gave them pause…and so the cat decided to explain himself further.

"I bring a gift for him, and I'm afraid I was told to present it to him face-to-face."

This, of course, only made the guards more hesitant and puzzled. They looked to each other in response, both trying to see what the other one would decide. However, Gaston was well familiar with how things were handled among nobility. If anyone wanted to bring a tribute to the king, no matter how meager, they would take it. And dressed as he was, he knew that they would be so out of sorts that they would let him present it directly. Hence, he patiently waited, making sure everything in his mind was clear…

As it turned out, the guards had to call for their captain, who was no less confused than they were. There was considerable debate in whispers for a while, some of which grew rather loud. But, at last, the guards turned to the cat and gave a nod.

"Proceed directly straight, and do not go down any side wings, but directly to the throne, Monsieur Cat."

"Thank you, my good sirs," Gaston answered, giving them all a gallant bow, before picking up his sack again and proceeding.

Naturally, it was even more fantastic and elegant inside. Gaston passed through numerous fine hallways, past all manner of lovely décor, and by many guards, lords, and ladies…all of whom regarded him with the same surprise. However, that surprise gradually faded and turned to a bit of awe as they beheld not only his attire, but the dignified way in which the cat held himself as he moved along. He looked rather gallant and dashing, and was soon catching both the eye and attention of everyone he passed by.

At long last, Gaston made it to a large set of gold and white double doors. The doormen had already been told of the cat's coming…but stared a bit blankly at him when they finally saw him. Nevertheless, they didn't hold long, but reached out, grasped the handles, and opened them up. The cat proceeded into the innermost area.

The royal guard was here, as were a few other advisors and noblemen, all standing to one side for the "visitor"…and now looking at him in some confusion. But Gaston paid no mind to any of them. His attention was forward, on the throne itself. There, seated in a gilded, cushioned chair, dressed in finery, his hair graying and a bit overweight, was none other than King Andre. He seemed a bit gruff, but had a jovial and warm look about him in spite of his nobility. He still conducted himself as a proper king, however, refusing to give Gaston the same gawking stares everyone else had until this point, but treating him more "officially."

Gaston also took note of a smaller throne at the man's right hand, upon which sat a girl dressed in the same finery with a crown smaller than Andre's on her own head. She was lovely and fair to behold, even by "cat" standards. She seemed fascinated by Gaston, looking at him in open-mouthed awe and even with a slight bit of a smile. The cat smiled a bit on the inside to see that, seeing a human recognize his greatness. Perhaps this would work out even better than he planned…

At any rate, now that he was here, he stopped at an appropriate distance, put the sack to one side, and then removed his hat and swept it around and in front of him as he gave an even more gallant and dignified bow to the king than before at the gate.

"Greetings, exalted one," the cat humbly addressed the king. "Thank you for doing a humble servant a great kindness in allowing me into your presence. I am deeply honored, as is my master whom I serve."

The king blinked twice in response to this, for it seemed even he wasn't expecting such a greeting. "…You are most welcome, Monsieur Cat," he finally said after a moment. "I must say, I have never witnessed a beast with such manners, or one of your kind wearing such finery…"

"My master insisted, my liege," the cat responded, keeping his head low. "He is a gracious and kind noble, and possessing such wealth that even the lowly animals in his estate that are within his service are made to dress thusly. I come on his behalf. He recently came fully into his estate, at last coming of age, and as soon as he heard of the name of King Andre and learned of his kingdom, his greatness, and his fairness and justice…well, in spite of having just arrived, he bid me at once to bring this gift to you as a token of his goodwill and an extension of his desire for friendship."

The king paused only a moment, and then looked to the nearest footman, silently bidding him to come forward. The servant bowed, and then approached Gaston. On reaching the sack, he opened it, reached inside, and soon pulled out the two fat rabbits. The king leaned up a bit in response, looking over the creatures. He actually gave a faint smile after a moment, seeming pleased with this.

"I do say, Monsieur Cat, I don't think I've seen rabbits that large and healthy in some time."

"Most of the game in my master's estate is of this size, my liege," the cat responded. "And he learned of your fondness for game and hoped this would be an appropriate gift. May I tell him that this gift is acceptable to your greatness?"

The king gave a nod. "It is very acceptable. I am grateful to your master, but who should I address my thanks to?"

"The Marquis of Carabas, my lord," the cat answered. "And I shall make sure he receives your thanks. At the moment, he is still settling into his estate and getting his affairs in order, but he didn't want to let another day go by without seeking to curry favor with you."

The king nodded again in reply, but looked a bit confused. "I don't believe I have heard of this nobleman before now…"

"His father, God rest his soul, was not the most friendly of lords, your grace. He kept mostly to himself and his own affairs. His son, my master, on the other hand, is far more gracious. And now…" He bowed a bit lower. "Please forgive me for being so rude and seeming so ungrateful, my lord, but I beg leave of you that I may return to my master's estate, lest he think I was long in delivering his gift and partook of it myself."

The king gave a nod. "You are dismissed. Be certain that the Marquis of Carabas knows of my gratitude."

"I most certainly will, exalted one. He will be most pleased."

Gaston gave Phillippe a smile. "Well?"

The young man chewed the rabbit a few more times, and then swallowed. He held a moment, and then finally exhaled. He gave an acquiescing nod. "I have to admit, it's really good."

"So bang goes your theory that I can't feed you, at least," the cat said casually.

Philippe frowned a moment and rolled his eyes, but was forced to nod. "Yes, I guess you're right."

It had been several hours since Gaston had departed. By now, the sun had lowered, and the sky was beginning to turn dark again. Using what few meager things they had, Philippe had staked out a location on the edge of town with the rest of the beggars, although he had managed to get one closer to the city. After all, he wasn't quite as filthy and diseased-looking as the rest of them…at least, not yet. He had feared he would be before long, and wondered if Gaston's "master plan" involved him begging for alms. As the hours passed, he had begun to wonder if the cat would have anything on his return, or even if he would come back at all since he couldn't really give him anything else. Yet it seemed such fears were unfounded.

Part of their "campground" involved a hastily-made spit, on which they had roasted Gaston's fruit of his labor…the largest and tastiest-looking rabbit Philippe could ever recall seeing. It had a fine pelt on it, too, which he had made sure to skin from it. He could probably sell it in town for a few deniers. At any rate, as he ate another bite, he made sure to pass some on to Gaston, who had carefully removed his hat, belt, and boots before digging in so his fine gifts wouldn't get ruined.

"I had no idea you could catch rabbits," Philippe said as he bit in again.

"Oh, I can do a great deal more than you think, young master," the cat responded as he ate some himself. "Didn't I tell you lounging around the house and catching mice is something cats only do when they aren't trying at anything? Now you make sure to buy me more lentils with that, you got it? Maybe something a bit more fine. You know, to attract better game."

"Well, it looks like you can keep me from starving, at least. I'll admit that," the young man answered, taking another bite. As he swallowed it down, he stared at the rabbit a moment, and then back up to him. "I also didn't know we had rabbits this good in this land. Most of the ones I see are scrawny and young."

"You just need to know where to look," the cat answered casually. "Now you did the other things I told you, right?"

Philippe paused, but then nodded. "I don't really see how it helps anything, but yeah."

"Keep it up. I might start testing you," Gaston answered. "Now eat up and get some sleep."

The boy couldn't help but give the cat a look. "I don't get it… What exactly did you need boots for? I mean, if you're planning on catching food for us, doesn't that just make it harder? And don't you want me to try hiring myself out or moving elsewhere where there's work if I don't have to worry about food anymore?"

"Oh, tut-tut," the cat answered. "You aren't getting me to reveal my master plan so easily. Besides, the plan is still in its inception. You just keep doing what I tell you and everything will be fine."

The young man hesitated. He really didn't see where he was going with all of this. However…he had come through today, even if Philippe had no idea how boots and a hat had accomplished this. With that in mind, he kept eating. This was his only meal today, after all.

The silver spoon raised to the king's lips, and he soon put the first mouthful of stew into his mouth. His daughter did so at the same time. After only a moment, the king smiled as he pulled the spoon out again.

"If I had any fewer manners, I would be tempted to dive into this stew like a wolf," he said with a light chuckle. "That is, without a doubt, the best rabbit stew I have had in years. I didn't think there were such fine specimens within a hundred miles." He looked up at his daughter soon afterward. "Do you find it agreeable, Adele?"

The princess smiled and nodded. "Very much so, father. And the thought of how it came to us…in such an odd fashion…it honestly makes me smile."

It was much later that evening now, and time for supper. As always, the king and his daughter dined in an elegant hall with tiled floors, high arches, and lovely silverware and cutlery. Both guards and servants stood to one side, having just served them the main dish for that evening. The king had ordered it to be rabbit stew, made from the same fresh rabbits the servant of the Marquis of Carabas had brought them, eager to see if they were as good as they looked. Much to his pleasure, they were even better. He was fond of rabbit, like all game, but they were always so tough and without much meat on them. Normally, he would have to have four of them caught to make a thin stew for himself and the princess. Two of them seemed to suffice now, however…with plenty to spare.

The king nodded in response. "He was most certainly the oddest servant I have ever seen…but that only goes to show what kind of great man his master must be. I've never heard of any lord so wealthy that he would give even his cats such finery."

"And he was so gracious and polite," the princess added. "I don't think I've seen noblemen with such manners."

"The Marquis has definitely caught my interest, if that was his intention," the king stated as he went for another bite. "I'm not sure when we'll see that cat servant of his again, but I'm already making sure to tell the watchmen to permit him next time he comes. Who knows? Perhaps next time he'll have enough time to tell me more about him…"

The next day, bright and early, Philippe went out and sold the hide for a few deniers, just enough to buy more "bait." He was far more agreeable this time, knowing that Gaston could at least keep him fed. After that, he grudgingly went out to do as he was told and observe the wealthier individuals who passed through town. And as for Gaston, he returned to the forest, wandered in once again until he was deep inside, and began to look around. He had done rabbit yesterday. Today, he wanted something a bit different. Picking a new area, but this one still well inside the forest, he set up his trap again in a new spot. This time, it was quail that came around…and five of them in all. Soon, he had one of them hidden once again for later and took the other four, tied up the sack, and made his way back to the castle.

Naturally, the guards were a little surprised to see the cat back again so soon. However, orders were orders, and the cat was immediately admitted. This time, however, he requested a bit of water first. One of the servants came out and presented him with some.

As he drank, the servant looked to his sack. "More large rabbits, Monsieur Cat?"

"Oh no. The Marquis of Carabas wouldn't want his highness growing bored from the same dish two days in a row," the cat answered as he finished refreshing himself. "He ordered me to bring him the finest quail he could find."

The servant was amazed. "Quail, you say? His majesty will be most pleased with such a gift. All of the places where the quail nest in his own forest are inaccessible, and the ones that aren't have long since been hunted dry. I don't think he's had any in close to five years now. You should tell the Marquis he'll gain favor of the king quickly if he continues to bring such gifts."

"It should not be difficult," Gaston answered. "The Marquis' estate is so large, he has little problem finding any form of game he wishes."

"Really? Is it that large?"

"Oh, indeed. He would never admit it, however. My master was always a humble man, especially after he gave offense to another king who came to visit to comfort him over his father's death. He was so upset over the size of his property that he stormed off, taking whatever gifts he had brought with him."

The servant looked rather overwhelmed. "I've never heard of a Marquis with so much land he actually offended a king…"

"Well, now you have," the cat answered with a smile as he slung the sack over his shoulders and advanced.

In minutes, he stood before the king again, and the latest gift was presented. The king was as surprised as everyone to see the cat return so soon, and the princess and courtiers with him. They were even more surprised to see the gift he brought.

"So I may tell the Marquis of Carabas that you are pleased with this gift as well, your grace?" the cat asked, still giving a gallant bow.

"You may indeed. Even when my huntsmen could still find quail, I never saw such excellent specimens," the king answered with a pleased smile as a servant carried them off. "I'm very surprised to see your master decided to bring another gift so soon."

"My master is quite a humble man, your highness," Gaston explained. "He was afraid the two rabbits were a mere pittance compared to your wealth and prestige. Even after I explained how appreciative you were for the gesture, he was fearful at sending such a small gift. He almost immediately requested that I send this one as well. In fact, he even begged your pardon for giving such a meager present yesterday."

Here, the king actually broke out into a chuckle. "The Marquis sells himself short. My daughter and I hadn't had such a lovely stew since before I can remember. And if these quail are even half as good as they appear, I'm certain we are in for another treat this evening. Please, tell me more of your master."

"Well…" The cat paused, looking skyward. "My master is kind and generous, but I, being but a lowly cat, earn his distrust from time to time. After all, conveying gifts such as these…he's fearful that I will take a bite or so out of them for myself, and then, should I present your majesty with already eaten meat…" He snickered a bit. "Well then, the next gift that he would give to your highness would be a catskin purse. He's quite a humble man, your majesty. That's why he didn't come here flaunting his wealth or status. Instead, he sent me to try and build rapport first."

"He's certainly making a good first impression," the king responded. "I won't detain you, but please give my regards. Tell him that I am happy to make his acquaintance in addition to thanks for the gift."

The cat bowed a bit lower. "But of course, your majesty."

As the sun dipped again, and the cooking fire died, Philippe rolled back and patted his belly a bit. "I don't think I've ever had such a good quail. If I could get you to catch more than one of these a day, we might be able to make a living as hunters."

"Oh, we'll do better than that," Gaston answered as he picked his teeth with the point of a rib from the bird. "We better. This is well and good for now, but it will be quite horrendous when it rains…or when winter gets here."

"Then maybe instead of wasting all my time looking at people, I should be trying to find a job," Philippe answered.

"And ruin my brilliant plan?" the cat retorted, almost sounding insulted. "On that note, how are you progressing? Learned any new things?"

The young man frowned. "Sure. Wealthy people always like having two forks instead of one, at least, and save one of them for one course and the other for the next. But since I've only ever had one course in my entire life…"

"What else?"

He sighed. "I don't know… If you ride a horse, there's 'trotting', 'cantering', and 'galloping.' They carry mirrors to admire themselves. They kiss the hands of ladies and bow to them by sweeping their arms in front of them and sticking out a leg… Who cares?"

"Do not neglect that," the cat responded. "I'd hate to think all of my hard work is for nothing."

Philippe could reason that hunting was indeed hard work, but he had a hard time believing how the cat's provisions of food would be impacted by him observing wealthy people. At any rate, he didn't dispute it. At least, not yet. That might come later when shelter became more of a problem.

The feathers from the quail didn't fetch as nice of a price as the fur of the rabbit, but it was enough to get them more bait, and out the cat went again. It took a bit more effort to catch a pair of geese this time, one young and one fine, tender, and mature. But the feathers could be sold for enough for the next day's expenses, and perhaps they could have shared some of their goose with others for a denier apiece. Gaston was growing in skill, after all, and could get by with a little less each day.

Once more, he came up to the gate and requested some water before he entered. The same servant as before came…but another one was with him.

As the cat refreshed himself, he was asked another question, this time by the new servant.

"Did the Marquis of Carabas really have such property that he offended a king?"

"Yes, and it ended up not going well with him," Gaston calmly replied.

"How so?" the first servant asked.

"The king was so jealous he sent ten Spanish assassins in the night to kill him so he could seize his land by force," the cat answered. "The poor souls…"

The servants were curious at that. "What do you mean?"

"There's none more skilled or deft of blade than my master. Slew them all with a single move apiece. They never stood a ghost of a chance. And after that, he hired a thousand Landsneckt mercenaries from Germany to deal with that king."

The two were stunned. "A thousand?! He must have bankrupted his house to do that!"

The cat merely waved his paw. "Please…it was nothing to my lord. In a lean year, he could have afforded it. Anyway, I am wanted within."

The servants were left dumbfounded, as were the guards who had overheard, and Gaston smiled a bit as he heard them murmur among each other as he left…

Just as before, he placed his latest gift before the throne and, naturally, the king was even more delighted than before. All traces of his earlier sternness had practically vanished at this point. He let out a laugh. "Three days in a row, Monsieur Cat? And a different dish each time? I suppose I hardly need to tell you how exquisite the quail were. And this goose looks better than the bird that was served at Christmas."

The cat, always keeping his head bowed, gave a casual shrug. "What can I tell you, my lord? I am but a humble servant. If it is my master's wish to continue to provide you with gifts, then all I can do is obey."

"Does your master still believe he needs to curry favor with me?"

"Perhaps so, my liege. After all, he has known you only indirectly, and only for a matter of three days. Or perhaps it is something more. Perhaps now that he has heard my reports of you, the splendor of your palace, the magnificent of your lands and guards, he feels obligated to show proper tribute."

For the first time…the princess interjected, and sounded hopeful.

"Monsieur Cat, could the Marquis of Carabas possibly meet us in person? I am interested in seeing him face-to-face."

"Well, I will certainly pass on your wishes, my lady," the cat responded. "And, if you will not mind me doing so, I shall also pass on word of what a charming and lovely young lady is making this request of him."

The princess smiled a bit, blushing at the flattery.

"But I am sorry to say that I am not sure my master will accept," Gaston continued. "As I have said before, he is quite a humble man. He would be fearful that you, my liege, would suspect him of trying to sway you with a few meager and petty offerings, and thereby get in his good graces. He confided in me just last night that he was fearful. 'Suppose the great and noble King Andre,' he said to me, 'believes that I am playing him for a fool? That I am a mere spy or in the pocket of his enemies? That I do not truly acknowledge what a great man he is, and how I am nothing before him or his wonderful kingdom?' And then, of course, he commissioned me to bring this goose at once."

This only made the king chuckle again. "Does your master think me a cruel tyrant or the worst kind of sinner that I would so easily harm a man who has treated me now three times, when I have not even had the decency to know of his existence?"

"I am sad to report that people have dealt double with my kind master in the past, and taken advantage of his generosity," the cat responded with a heavy sigh. "Not that I would ever accuse you of such a thing, my lord. And neither would the Marquis. Otherwise he would not be giving you these humble offerings. Only that he has a lingering fear. However, I will convey your good will and hospitality to him without fail."

"And my wishes for his good health and success now that he has come into his estate," the king answered.

"And please tell him that Lady Adele wishes the same," the princess added with a smile.

As Phillipe pulled out the last of the feathers and stored them in a bag for later selling, and Gaston was again donning his hat and boots to go and ask others to share in the goose feast that he had provided for them for a small fee, he couldn't help but sigh. "Are you ready to tell me your plan yet?"

"Not even remotely close, Philippe," the cat answered with a smile. "Just keep doing what you're doing, the same as always. Everything is working out perfectly."

He frowned slightly, but then continued to prepare the bird. "…Since you're obviously going to keep your secrets, I won't pester you about them any more unless we're in need. After all, since you're the one who provides me with food, I really can't say no one way or another. Although the taste of meat is beginning to stick to the roof of my mouth. I think I'll just sell whatever you bring tomorrow for some bread."

"And a saucer of milk couldn't hurt either," the cat piped up.

The young man paused a moment, but then shrugged. "…So long as you're giving me food, why not? Though I'm still wondering why you're bothering with those clothes. Certainly it can't make things any easier. I've seen you on all fours your whole life."

"Perhaps," the cat answered. "But you have to know your audience. Now start cooking that goose, and don't worry anymore. You're in very good hands. Well…paws."

And so the story repeated itself for the next month.

Every morning, Philippe would sell either the game from the night before or whatever goods he was able to obtain from it, such as a pelt or feathers, and some of it would always be used to buy more lentils and other nutritious items, which Gaston would, in turn, use to catch more game and present the bulk of it to King Andre and Princess Adele. It would be a new treat almost every time, and always, he would say the same thing…that it was a gift from the Marquis of Carabas. Not only that, but the cat would regale the servants and the soldiers with stories of the non-existent Marquis' wealth, power, prestige, and state. He always had an answer for the king as well, and each description would be more grandiose than the last.

Philippe, on his part, completely unaware of what was going on behind his back, continued to do as Gaston instructed. He learned a great deal about carrying himself, talking, and acting like a nobleman, including their propriety and manners, although, for the life of him, he had no idea what good it would do. True to his word, he said no more to the cat of what he did every day. He was able to keep them fed, and in spite of one or two rainy days, which the cat liked no better than he did, he stayed alive. However, he still had no home to call his own, no real possessions, and no livelihood.

Meanwhile, the king grew more intrigued with the Marquis of Carabas with each new gift that was brought to him. By now, the king was all but accustomed to dining on whatever game the cat brought, and had even ceased sending his huntsmen out more than once a day. Each gift was a treat, and he was excited to learn what new surprise the cat would bring him each day. And as his intrigue about the Marquis of Carabas grew, he began to dispatch envoys of his to learn more of him. However, they always picked up on the rumors that the cat himself had started in the king's very palace, and they, in turn, only magnified them more until the Marquis of Carabas was practically a mythic figure.

The cat was welcomed frequently, and was all but an honored guest. The princess had commanded that the cat be given water and milk each time he came, and even had a station for him to rest himself. She too always inquired of the cat about the Marquis, and her excitement grew when he revealed, one day, that he was not only a handsome and dashing young man, but had also not yet taken a wife. With time, he began to "pass messages" to and from the false Marquis, always relaying through Gaston how honored he was to have his gifts so easily received, how it was his pleasure to provide them, and how he always asked how both the king and the princess were doing. Yet he would always excuse himself. Perhaps he was hiring new managers for his laborers. Perhaps he was overseeing repairs to the estate he had inherited. But he would always send more gifts and, though the cat, beg their apologies if he had offended them in any way.

Despite never having met the fictional Marquis of Carabas, after a month had passed, the king's estimation had grown considerably of him. Never before had he been treated by any of his own nobles or subjects so excellently. The Marquis was practically his private huntsman, providing game for his favorite meal of the day, every day. Yet in spite of all of the grand stories that he heard, the Marquis was always humble, always apologetic, always praising the king and his daughter, and never once expecting anything in return. That made him the king's favorite kind of noble. And on being regaled by more stories of how suave and debonair he was, the princess only grew more and more eager to meet him.

At last, after having given his latest gift, the king spoke aloud.

"Monsieur Cat, I have never been treated so honorably or respectfully in all my life than I have by the Marquis of Carabas. I implore you to give him this message. Please tell him that King Andre considers him a dear friend and has been many times over pleased with him. I wish greatly to entertain him at my castle as a most welcome guest. It is the least I can do to repay him for all of the gifts he has presented. Aside from that, my lovely daughter has eagerly wished to meet with him as well. Please tell him that the only true offense he could possibly do to me and my beloved is to reject this invitation."

The cat bowed even lower. "My most gracious royal highness, the Marquis of Carabas does not consider himself worthy of such high honors…but he would never do anything to insult you or the precious jewel that is the crown princess. In truth, for some time now, he has been of a mind to come and present himself to you in person to do you homage. I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that on presenting your latest wishes to him, he will be more than pleased to make all haste to meet you in person. Shall I tell him that you expect him before you tomorrow?"

"Oh, not tomorrow, Monsieur Cat," the king responded. "On that day every month, I and my daughter go for a tour of the countryside and our lands. The next day, however, we will be more than happy to receive him."

Gaston smiled very widely at that…but not for the reason anyone expected.

"Then I shall inform my gracious master that the king wishes to meet with him the day after tomorrow. I am certain he will be more than happy to provide you both with far greater gifts than the paltry offerings he has managed so far."

The princess had lit up in eagerness and delight by this point. The king seemed very jovial as well. "I look forward to it. And I will have the choicest cattle prepared. For such fine game, it is an even trade. You are dismissed, good sir."

Bowing one last time, the cat rose and began to depart the same as he always did, with his sack in tow. On leaving the royal hall, he replaced his hat on his head, tipped it to all of the servants, soldiers, and even the noblemen and women who had come to enjoy his visits. He crossed the gate, left over the moat, and began to descend the hill.

As soon as he was out of earshot and eyeshot, he removed the sack from his back and simply tossed it into a ditch on the side of the road. He would not need it ever again.

"Step one is complete," he said aloud to himself. "Now for step two."

As Philippe turned the homemade spit over the fire, he couldn't help but look irritable. "I just don't understand why you threw the sack away. We don't have any extra money to buy another one."

"We don't need another one either," Gaston answered. He seemed more exceedingly pleased with himself than usual, leaning back, crossing his legs, propping his head up on his paws, and seeming that all was well.

"How are we going to eat?"

"Young master," the cat answered with a smile. "This is the last time we'll have to settle for eating wild game out of doors for the rest of our lives."

Philippe frowned. "More of your 'master plan', and I still don't know what it is…only that I've been studying habits I don't require for two fortnights."

This only made Gaston grin. "And you're such a wonderful student too. Listen to you. 'Studying habits I don't require for two fortnights'? You're every bit the stuffed shirt as the rest of those peacocks when you want to be."

The boy growled a bit and shook his head. "Ugh…so you've succeeded in scrambling my brain. What good does that do me?"

"A lot," Gaston answered. "I think that will work very well tomorrow…a nice muddled mind. Make sure you keep it up when I take you where we're going."

"And what exactly are we doing tomorrow?" the young man asked. "You're not gathering more game. I guessed that much."

"And you guessed correctly. We're going for a nice long walk. There is a patch of open country about six miles from here. Nothing but empty fields. No farming and no grazing. Only a stream from the mountains running down through it. Nice and cool and clean."

Philippe sighed. "An outing? How is that going to help anything?"

"Now, my young master," Gaston said with a toothy grin. "You've been going on faith with me for a while now. When we're so close to the completion of my master plan, are you going to try throwing a plank into a wagon wheel with too many questions?"

The young man grimaced.

"Besides, you could use some rosier cheeks. You've been mostly loitering around town for a month now. A nice walk is just the thing for you, with fresh air and lovely countryside."

Philippe sighed, and looked back to the spit. "Alright, fine. At this point, I've trusted you for so long I've got nothing else to go on."

"That's the spirit," the cat answered. "Now, let's enjoy our last meal out in the open, and look forward to a bright tomorrow."

Bright and early, the cat set them on their way. Despite it getting later in the year toward summer, it was a rather chilly morning. Philippe, who was still wearing the same clothes he had worn since the day he left the house, with neither a needle nor a thread nor a patch to mend them so much as once, was rather cool, and grateful for when the sun came up and began to warm up the entire countryside. Nevertheless, in spite of his statements from yesterday, Gaston didn't hold him still, but led him onward rapidly, not really pausing to drink in the sights or sounds of anywhere as they went along the road. After all, he had a schedule to keep.

He was pleased with how Philippe moved now. It seemed his advice hadn't been without effect. Much like the cat, he seemed to carry himself a bit better…not simply slouch and shuffle along like any country bumpkin. And not working for a month had removed a great deal of the calluses from his hands, although he still had enough muscle that his body was toned and with good figure. The meat may have helped with that. Best of all…the young man looked very tired. That had been his intention as well, waking him up early and then walking him hard right up until now, close to noon.

Of course, Philippe could only put up with so much of this. And it looked like he was ready to give out as they reached a grove of trees that were growing on either sides of the bank of the clean, clear river nearby. It was quite beautiful to behold, and quite cool, having come down from the mountains. The rest of the countryside stretched open and wild in meadows and untended fields left to lay fallow for the year.

Having gone from freezing to sweating, the young man rubbed his brow as he panted. "Where are we going in such a hurry? If we came out to get fresh air, I'm panting so hard I'm really not getting much…"

Gaston barely seemed to notice, looking out to the horizon. From their position, a bit upland, one could see quite a distance over numerous hills. To human eyes, there was little to see. But to the keen eyes of a cat, he could see several miles away and make out a road. He frequently looked to this. Every once in a while he would see a dot along it, but he ignored those. He was looking for a bit more.

"If you must know, we had to be here in a hurry," the cat answered as he looked behind them again.

The young man blinked. "A hurry? For what?"

"We're meeting someone," the cat simply answered as he continued to look outward. "And if he's good and punctual, he'll be here on time."

Philippe began to slow. "Could you just let me in on a bit of what this entire plan is? Are you getting me a new job or something?"

"You might say that," the cat said.

"But—"

Abruptly, the cat held up a paw to Philippe, confusing him…but also silencing him for a moment. The cat finally saw it. More shapes on the road far in the horizon. But it wasn't just a single dot this time. It was an entire entourage…and coming right the same way they were going.

Gaston flashed his teeth as he grinned. "Showtime."

The young man blinked. "What?"

The cat didn't explain, but simply stopped in his tracks, causing the boy to stop as well. Turning to him, he cleared his throat a bit. "Alright, my young master…I think you're in need of a wash."

Philippe looked a bit puzzled at this. "A wash?"

"Well, you're quite sweaty, you haven't bathed in a while, save in that filthy well water back in town, and the day is quite hot. I think you could use a nice, cool dip."

The young man looked to the flowing stream, and then back to Gaston. "…That water is from the mountains. It's a bit cold…"

The cat shrugged. "Well, I'm sweltering out here. Aren't you?"

The young man blinked. "…No, not really."

"And why not? Don't you have enough meat on your bones after all I've fed you?"

"One meal a day, and I don't have a fur coat…"

"A fur coat that I groom continuously. And, as always, humans would be better off if they were more like cats. On that note, get in the water."

Philippe hesitated, grimacing as he looked around. "…Couldn't we at least go a bit into the country first? I mean, this is right by the road. I don't care for the idea of people coming by and gawking at my stringy, nude body…"

"Don't be ridiculous. You've got a nice figure," the cat answered with a smile. "Now go on, get in the water. Look…" He pointed out to a large tree near the water. "Just get right behind that and undress. Hand me your clothes, and I'll make sure to find a nice place for them to stay dry while you do your business. Make sure you give yourself a nice scrubbing too."

Giving a sigh, Philippe held out only a moment longer, looking reluctantly at the water, and began to move behind the tree. Gaston, for his part, stole a glance out to the hills. Already, the dots were vanishing behind the first. He looked back at Philippe. "Quickly now. The sooner you're in the water, the sooner you can get out."

"Alright, alright…" He groaned as he moved to the tree. After stepping behind it, he called out, "you can't see me, can you?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before."

"That's not what I meant! You can't see me from the road, right?"

"No, of course not. Now hurry it up. You aren't getting clean just standing around."

There was some grumbling and muttering, before the shoes came out, tossed from behind the tree. Gaston quickly reached out and snatched them up. The stockings followed next, and the cat took them up as well. By now, he was making a face. Month-old footwear and stockings were never pleasant things.

"And the rest. You aren't going to just dip your toes in, are you?"

More grumbling followed. Gaston looked out to the road, seeing the dots, now easily a carriage in their midst to his sharp eyes, crossing the next hill. However, the vest and shirt came off next, and the cat flattened out the latter of the two and put everything else in it. Soon the trousers came, and they joined the others.

"As much as I'm going to regret saying this…your undergarments as well," Gaston called.

"…That water is going to be freezing."

"All the more reason you should have as many nice, dry, warm clothes as possible waiting for you."

There were a few seconds of pausing, as the carriage vanished on the other side of the next hill…but, finally, the undergarments came out too. The cat made sure to catch them in the pile rather than touch them. Once all were inside, he quickly began to tie the things into a bundle, well out of eyesight of Philippe.

"Alright! Hop in!" the cat called.

A little more muttering, before the grass and rushes moved. As the cat finished tying the bundle, he suddenly heard a startled cry from Philippe. "Ugh! It's cold as ice!"

"It gives color to your cheeks!" the cat answered as he slung the bundle over his back, and began to head back to the road. "Get in and start washing yourself nice and good!"

The sound of Phillipe sliding further into the water, followed by more yelps and sloshing, came out as the cat reached the road and started to cross over to the other side. "What if that person I'm supposed to meet comes by?"

"I'll let you know!" the cat answered, still walking away.

"…Where are you? You sound like you're not even near the river…"

"I'm at the road keeping watch! Now start bathing! Get your head under the water and rinse it all out! Make yourself spotless!"

More sloshing, and what sounded like a slip as the young man cried out and fell completely into the water, likely slipping on a stone. As for Gaston, he looked around a bit on the other side of the river, until he saw a patch of thorny, overgrown brush. It would do very nicely. Rearing back and forth twice in a rocking motion, he tossed the bundle of clothes into the air…and made it land right in the midst of the thorns, instantly vanishing from view. The cat cupped his paw to his mouth, kissed it, and then blew it. Much like the sack, those clothes were at the end of their service.

"Alright! I think I'm clean enough!"

"That's ridiculous!" the cat shouted back. "You've been in for only a minute!"

"Did you miss the part where I told you it's freezing in this water?"

"Get further under the water! You'll feel better!"

"…You hate water and you're giving me advice about it?"

"Just do it!"

He looked ahead once again. The carriage was crossing the third and final hill. He could make out the riders with him as well by now, but even a human looking that way would see them coming. However, the stream was downhill from the road, and between the rushes and the trees; Philippe was quite concealed. The cat smiled in approval now, watching the retinue slowly cross the hill over the next few moments.

Finally, Philippe called out again. "Alright…I'm pretty sure I'm good and washed now…" he said, trying to conceal some trembling in his voice. "And I'm definitely freezing. I hope you put my clothes in the sun…"

"Oh, you can count on it," the cat calmly replied.

"Well, can you bring them to me?"

"You could use a bit longer in there."

"What?! No, I'm serious! Give me my clothes! My skin is starting to pale!"

"Not just yet…"

"No, now! I told you I'd break up your 'master plan' if you ever got me into something I didn't feel good about, and this is it!"

"Just a couple more minutes," the cat answered as he saw the retinue vanish behind the last hill. They were only about a mile away now. "The person you're meeting is almost here."

This was enough to give Philippe some pause. As for Gaston, satisfied that he had enough time, he turned and began to go near the river again. As he neared, he went around the rushes and saw the young man. He indeed looked rather pale and was shivering now, and purposely standing up out of the water in a shallow part to try and keep from being in it more than necessary. He was looking at the cat. After a moment, he frowned.

"Well, who am I meeting, anyway?"

"King Andre and Princess Adele," Gaston answered.

Philippe went completely rigid. His eyes enlarged as his jaw slackened.

"…Excuse me?"

"They're out for their monthly ride," the cat responded. "They're coming up the hill right now."

The young man's eyes widened a bit more. "…Are you seriously saying the king and the princess are coming right this way…right now?!" His voice grew louder with each word.

"Well, and their retinue. A dozen or so couriers and the coachmen and all that," Gaston answered with a shrug.

Philippe turned whiter than before as all remaining color seemed to drain from his face. He shivered more than ever, and his knees grew so weak he began to sink into the water. He looked as if robbers had just stuck a knife in his back. He began to breathe harder and more rapidly as he stammered. Finally, he swallowed and looked about.

"My clothes…now," he stated, his voice a bit weak sounding, but definitely commanding.

"Sorry, too late for that," the cat answered simply.

Philippe snapped his head back up and looked at him. "…I'm not in a joking mood," he said as sternly as he could…despite the fact that he was wracked with fear.

"Neither am I."

"…Give me my clothes right now."

"Sorry, I can't," Gaston simply responded.

"Why not?" Philippe asked, his voice straining a bit from his emotion.

"Threw them away," the cat answered with a shrug. "They were old and worn out anyway." He turned his head back and looked ahead. He couldn't see anything yet, but he knew it was any time now.

"You did what?!" the young man shot back, his voice more terrified than angry. "Why on Earth did you do that?!"

"Like I said…they were filthy. You're better off without them," the cat answered. "Ah…I think I can just start seeing the standard coming over the hill."

The young man began to tremble all over. His rage at the cat was considerable…but he was more worried about what he was going to do. He looked around helplessly, but there weren't even any large leaves lying around. Finally, he looked back to the cat. "Wait a second…you knew the king and the princess would be coming by here…and you got rid of my clothes on purpose?!"

"Pretty much, yes," Gaston answered as he kept looking. "Ah, and there's the first plumes of the hats of the guards."

"I can't believe you! This is how you help me out?!" Philippe stammered, still stricken with ever-growing panic. "There's nothing to wear out here! You know what the king would do to some peasant who shows himself buck naked in the middle of nowhere in front of his only daughter?! I'll be hanged!"

"Oh, keep your shirt on…no wait, nevermind that," the cat answered, not even looking at him. "Anyway, if you want to keep yourself from getting the stocks for indecent exposure, I suggest you slip back into the water and hide near the rushes."

"You're mad!" the boy answered. "My feet are going numb from this water!"

"Have it your way. Present your manhood before his royal highness."

Philippe paused on hearing that. Finally, giving a number of swears he had never used before under his breath, he slipped back into the water up to his neck. He was soon trembling more from cold than ever, although his growing fear was probably just as strong.

"Alright…" Gaston went on, turning slightly toward him. "Stay down there…keep yourself hidden…and stay quiet no matter what you may hear me say to the king."

In spite of being terrified and freezing, Philippe raised his head at that. "Wait…what did you just say?"

"Stay down, keep hidden, and stay quiet."

"No…you said you were going to talk to the king. How do you know the king? And why are you stopping him in the first place? Let him go by! The faster he leaves, the faster I can get out!"

The cat let out a sigh, once again acting as if he was dealing with a simple child. "Philippe…"

"No! I don't know what's going on, but I'm not letting you drag me into this crazy mess! I've—"

Gaston turned and looked at him. And just as when all this had started, his look was so sharp and fierce that Philippe, in spite of all of his anxiety and discomfort…was rendered silent. For once, the cat did not look mirthful or carefree, but firm.

"Philippe…I have been working long and hard for the past month to get you to this point, and now that my work is nearly complete, you need to just be quiet and do what I say. This isn't a matter of trusting me or distrusting me anymore. If you follow my lead, I promise it will go well for you. But if you ruin it at this point, both you and I will be in a great deal of trouble. I got you through the last month fine and I'm about to get you through a lot better than fine…but only if you do what I tell you and trust me. Now…stay down…keep hidden…and stay quiet."

The young man didn't respond. He hadn't seen Gaston this firm in a while…but the words, and how he said them, were enough to make the young man give pause, in spite of all of his fear and cold. He wasn't sure if he nodded or acquiesced, but soon, it didn't matter. By now, he could start to hear the beat of horse hooves. The retinue was nearly on him. The only thing he could do now was go along with the cat's plan. And Gaston didn't linger any longer, but quickly ran out.

Being so small, it was nothing for the feline to put a good distance between himself and Philippe while still saying hidden. However, he also began to come up to the road, and as he did, and heard the retinue continue to approach, he quickly "got in character," remembering the plan and preparing himself. Once that was done, he sat low in the grass, looking forward. The group was visible now, four riders in front, the splendid carriage drawn by the white horses, topped with the coachmen, and behind them four more riders. Their standards fluttered in the breeze, looking quite elegant and regal. With Philippe behaving, the cat allowed himself the luxury of relaxing a bit, and gave one last grin.

The riders began to reach his location, and he quickly shook his head and swept it away. Time for the big moment. Taking one last deep breath, he broke out of the grass, bellowing at the top of his small lungs.

"Help! Help! Your majesty!"

The horses gave a whinny as they were quickly pulled to a halt, the riders scarcely able to keep from stomping on the cat. As for Gaston himself…he looked like a mess. His normally smooth fur was agitated and ruined from going through the grass, his clothing was a bit upset, and yet he was still unmistakable as the cat that everyone knew. He also looked completely distraught, and was panting and panicked. He waved his paws frantically in front of him.

"My lord! Your grace! I beseech you! Please, help!"

The riders were only upset and confused for a moment, before they recognized the individual…the same cat who had visited the castle so many times before. However, propriety made them come forward and keep the cat from advancing, even as he looked on the brink of breaking down and sobbing. However, it wasn't long before his voice reached the ears of the king within his carriage. His head soon went to the window, and even between his own moaning and pleas, Gaston heard him call to the nearest servant.

"Footman…is there a cat out there dressed in a fine hat and pair of boots?"

"Yes, sir."

A moment later, the head of the king came out of the window, looking to the riders and calling out, "It's quite all right. Let him through. Do not impede him."

The riders did as they were commanded, pulling their mounts off to one side. Even as they did this, unseen by anyone there, Philippe strained his neck to look out and see what was going on. By now, his teeth were beginning to chatter, but he could do nothing except wait. Gaston moved past the riders and toward the carriage. When he looked inside, he saw that he had not only gained the attention of the king, but the princess as well, both of whom were looking anxiously outside.

Gaston, for his part, looked like an emotional wreck, but somehow, he managed to remove his hat and place himself on his knees. "Oh…oh thank you, good and kind sir… It's a miracle that you happened by. The last two wagons I tried to halt would not even slow down, and I was beginning to despair… I am not worthy of such kindness…"

"No, no…think nothing of it, Monsieur Cat." The king immediately stopped him. "There's no need for all of that."

"You poor creature," the princess commented, her face filling with pity and concern. "Whatever has happened?"

"Yes, whatever is the matter?" the king asked as well, his own face quite concerned. "I did not expect to see you again until tomorrow."

The cat, sniffling, as if he was on the brink of bursting into tears, looked up slightly and shook his head. "It's my fault, my lord and lady. It's all my fault. I am a wretched, mangy servant not fit to catch the rats in my master's dungeons for the evil I have done my master…"

Philippe, overhearing this, couldn't help but notice that not only was the cat readily admitted into the presence of the king, but he was addressing him so warmly and kindly that it would be hard to tell that he wasn't friends with him… This only befuddled the young man as he shivered in the water. How exactly did the cat know him?

"I gave the message to my lord, and, at once, he loaded up his carriage and a wagon filled with gifts for you and the lady. He assembled his best riders and made preparations to leave. But I…foolish, miserable servant as I am…I told him to leave in advance, so that he might have time to see your majesty's majestic kingdom for himself. And he agreed to spend the first day touring your countryside. However, the carriage grew hot, and he decided to bathe for a short while in this stream. And while he did so…"

The cat, who had been growing progressively more distraught, nearly broke down in tears at this point. He had to catch his breath and compose himself. As for Philippe, he only tried to realize what the cat was talking about. He couldn't possibly mean…

Finally, the cat looked up, struggling not to bawl. "A group of vicious, cutthroat robbers arose and set upon our whole retinue! They beat and murdered the riders and stole every last thing! They would have surely done the same to me had I not been so small and lithe! It was all I could do to get back to my master and tell him to remain hidden in the water! He didn't even have a sword to defend himself with, you see…and they swarmed up by the dozens! They even seized my master's clothing before running off!

"And now…now…" The cat sniffled. "Now I have failed my master in every conceivable way! It was my fault that he took this road in the first place! My fault that I wasn't able to defend his possessions! My fault that…after planning such a grand appearance…one to formally introduce himself to the king and the lovely princess…that he is left with nothing…not even his clothes! My poor master, even now, is huddling in the water, too ashamed to come before your grace with nothing!"

Philippe's eyes began to raise a bit higher. He is talking about me! he thought. What the devil has that cat gotten me into? And why is the king listening to him?!

The king and princess alike both reacted. The latter cupped a hand to her mouth, blushing a bit. "Do you mean to say that the Marquis of Carabas is right here? Bathing in this very stream?"

"How dreadful…how horrible," the king said, his own face growing dark, shaking his head. Immediately, he looked out the door of the carriage and to the men in the rear. "You there!" he called out, gaining their attention. "The fastest one of you is to return to the castle at once and return with a fresh set of the finest clothes! It's to be for a young man, a bit upon the thin side, about the size of the princess." He turned down to the cat at that. "That was your description of the Marquis, yes?"

The cat sniffled and nodded, starting to compose himself.

Philippe, on the other hand, looked about to pass out as he heard all of this, not able to believe his ears.

"Go quickly!" the king ordered. At once, the rider turned his horse around and spurred it on, and soon he was returning to the castle in a fast gallop.

Gaston wiped more tears from his eyes. "If it pleases you sir, I beg of you…do not hold this against my master. The fault is all mine. I will take whatever punishment you believe I deserve, even if it is a severe flogging…"

"Of course not. I would never do such a thing," the king responded. "You can hardly be blamed for this, especially after being such a faithful and attentive servant for so long. If anything, the fault is mine." He frowned a bit as he looked out into the woods. "I thought for certain I had ensured no highwaymen would ever take up residence in these woods. To hear that they have treated my soon-to-be guest and benefactor so shamefully boils my blood." He looked back down at the feline. "I must apologize to you, Monsieur Cat. Your master has given me such a great first impression, but I have not done the same."

"No, my liege…you must not blame yourself for the actions of ungodly men," Gaston answered, finally recovering and looking up. "You're practically an angel in the sight of my good master. And when he finally endeavored to meet you face to face, nothing gave him greater pleasure. So please…do not trouble yourself any further."

With that, he began to draw himself up again. "Now, if I may have your leave, your majesty, I will return to the river to inform the Marquis that his good friend has come to his aid by the providence of God. I'm sure he will be most overjoyed…"

Philippe tried to cast any number of curses, swears, and expressions of rage at Gaston as he could think of, but by now he was shaking uncontrollably and barely able to make a sound.

The cat, in turn, safely concealed from the royal retinue and hiding behind a tree, crossed his booted legs and arms and looked at him. "…Before you manage to make a single word audible, Philippe," he said quietly, "need I remind you that we are well within hearing range of those men, so if you would like to ruin this, then all you need to do is talk loudly."

The young man stammered a bit more, before tightening his jaw and glaring at Gaston. "Y-Y-You…are…the…d-d-devil…incarnate…"

"Now that's not a very nice thing to say after you saw what good graces I got you into," the cat answered. "And now you know what I've been doing for the past month."

"M-M-Making…m-m-me…a…f-f-fraud? I'll…l-l-lose…m-m-my…head…f-f-for…t-t-this…"

"Your head will be just fine," the cat responded with a wave of his paw. "Besides, it really is too late now to back down. They're looking at you. And until you get away from them again, you're going to just have to be the Marquis of Carabas."

Philippe groaned and sank into the water a bit more despite the cold. "I…c-c-can't…b-b-believe…y-y-you…d-d-did…t-t-this… t-t-to…m-m-me…"

Gaston snorted. "Yes…I got you into the king's good graces and favor. How could I treat you so horribly? Whatever did you do to me to deserve this?"

"I'm…n-n-not…a…n-n-noble! I…d-d-don't…know…t-t-the…f-f-first…t-t-thing…about …it!"

"So you already forgot all those things you've been watching for a month?"

The boy's eyes widened in shock. "T-T-That…w-w-was…w-w-why?!"

"Listen, Philippe," Gaston said, cutting him off. "Since you're getting too loud… I'm afraid we are at what we call 'the point of no return'. You can either choose to go along with my plan and trust me to take care of everything…or you can tell the truth and maybe only spend the rest of your natural life in a prison cell, because they'll never believe a cat thought up this whole thing. What's it going to be?"

The young man fumed…but, at this point, was too cold and stressed to resist. He really couldn't protest any longer, for the cat had a point. He had been gotten into a fine mess, but if he didn't stay the course he'd suffer for it. He'd just have to do what he said.

"I'm…g-g-going…t-t-to…d-d-die…"

"Not if you stick to what I say. Just leave everything to me and follow my lead…"

About an hour later, the rider returned, having pushed the horse hard all the way to the castle and then back again. The clothing and a drying cloth were passed to Gaston, who, in turn, brought it to Philippe and set about getting him out, drying him off, and dressing him. A good thing, too, because the young man only knew how to dress in some of the attire. Nevertheless, with Gaston's help, in short order, he was dry and fully clad.

"Alright, let's back up…get a good look at you," the cat said. After doing so, he smiled. "Wonderful. Those lessons have paid off."

"I'm still freezing…" Philippe responded as he shuddered.

"That's perfect. Any mess ups you make we can chalk up to you being cold and distraught. After all, you were just robbed blind and left for dead. Now…what's your name?"

He sighed. "…The Marquis of…of…Cabbage?"

"Carabas," the cat corrected with a frown. "Ugh, you're killing me here, Philippe. You've got to at least get your name right. Alright…you're rich…you're wealthy…you have a huge estate that's the envy of everyone…and everyone loves you and thinks you're great. You've been sending presents to the king all month and now he's taken a shine to you."

The young man merely groaned and rolled his eyes. "This is just wonderful…"

"Come on, Philippe. It's not that much to remember."

"I think all the blood in me has rushed to my head, so even doing the slightest thing is going to make me want to pass out. I can't remember anything like this."

"You'll do fine. I'll cover for you. Trust me, you'll get the hang of this in an instant. Just keep telling yourself you're the Marquis of Carabas and everything will just fall into place. Now…you ready?"

"No."

The cat frowned and held out a paw, extending his claws. "…You better start focusing or I'm going to have to change the story to 'they beat you before you managed to get in the river.' Now what's your name?"

"The Marquis of Carabas."

"Good. Let's go."

Gaston moved out first, holding himself upright, proper, and dignified. As he came out, he saw all eyes were on them. After all, everyone was eager to see the infamous Marquis of Carabas at long last. The cat, once out, folded his paws behind him and waited. And waited. And waited. At last, he put a paw to his mouth, coughed, and then looked behind the tree again, motioning outward. A moment later, Philippe, telling himself he had no choice, and trying to take the cat's advice, stepped out and did his best imitation of a true nobleman.

The young man was now dressed in some of the finest clothing in the kingdom, in colors of white, gold, and royal purple. Thanks to his constant practice, he held himself like a nobleman as well, from his posture, with his feet to his back, to the way he had set the hat provided for him on his head. He tried the best not to look nervous, although he was shivering both from cold as well as extreme anxiety. His hands kept balling into fists and relaxing again. He moistened his lips, and looked out…seeing all of the riders staring at him…armed with all manner of deadly weapons…the coachmen on the carriage…and, most of all, the king looking out from the window, giving him a smile.

Swallowing again, Philippe began to advance. For all his anxiety, he failed to give himself much credit. The bathing had not been in vain and had left him clean, and he had forgotten his own handsome features. Between the way he carried himself and the finery he was now dressed in…there were very few in the world who wouldn't have believed him to be a nobleman.

The walk to the carriage seemed to take forever, as all the while he endured the looks of the king and everyone else. He couldn't believe he was actually standing before the king…or that the cat had somehow made him so well disposed that King Andre could only smile warmly at him. For some reason, beyond his belief, he was getting the impression that everyone instinctively believed he was this "Marquis of Carabas." At any rate, unable to argue, he reached the carriage. Once there, he paused only a moment, before reaching up, removing his hat, and making his best attempt at a bow that he could manage given his disposition and current state.

The king smiled and nodded back. "Please, sir…arise at once. In spite of everything that has happened to you this day…forgive me for smiling. I've longed to meet with you for so long that even in these less-than-ideal circumstances, I'm happy to finally see you face-to-face."

Philippe shook all over like a leaf. He struggled to raise his head, or to say something…anything…but wasn't able to do much more than tremble. However, Gaston was at his side, and immediately moved in.

"I'm certain my master shares your sentiments exactly, your grace, but…as you can see, he is not in the best state at the moment. He only recently got out of that freezing river, he's still shaken up from the robbery, and, worst of all, he hoped that he could have made a far more splendid appearance. I fear he might be a bit ashamed."

"Oh, you've nothing to fear, good sir," the king reassured him. "I feel like we're practically intimate friends already."

Philippe wobbled a bit more at that, but the cat quickly came to his side and began to help him up. By digging his claws into Phillipe's arm as he grabbed it, the pain was enough to get him to snap out of his stupor and rise quickly once again. At that point, the footman dismounted from the carriage and moved over to the door.

"Anyway, let's not stand around any longer. I'm sure you wish to rest yourself. By all means, there is more than enough room in my carriage for both you and your faithful servant."

The footman reached out, took the handle, and opened up the door. Philippe was just about to recover enough to be confused as to why nobles always had servants open doors for them…when he froze at what he saw.

A lovely young woman dressed elegantly with a crown somewhat smaller than King Andre's was seated on one side of the carriage. Her hands were folded in her lap as she greeted the young man with a smile. In fact, on seeing him looking at her, she blushed deeply and bowed her head slightly for a moment.

"Greetings, Lord Carabas," she addressed him. "I am Princess Adele. I'm sure that your faithful servant has mentioned me to you before, as well as my inquiries."

Philippe stood in stunned silence, his mouth slightly ajar. For a moment, the king, the scheme, and everything else were completely forgotten. He merely stared at the vision of loveliness seated within the carriage.

"…You're beautiful," he finally stated.

A slight breach of propriety, but the princess didn't seem to mind. She only blushed more deeply and bowed her head. Immediately, the young man shook his head. "I…I mean…you're…um…you've quite lovely, my lady."

She smiled more as she looked back up to him. "To be honest, Lord Carabas…your servant described you as a handsome individual…but I think he didn't begin to tell me the half of it. I don't believe I've ever seen a noble as ruddy as you before. You have a glow about you that I've never seen before in any noble. You must have exercised a great deal as a child."

Philippe could only stare back, his mouth slightly open. After a moment, he gave a vacant nod to what had been said, not really sure what she had said. Luckily, the king seemed oblivious to this. "Well now…by all means, young sir…come inside. After all your servant has said of your manners and humility, I have no objections to you sitting next to the princess, if you like."

The young man snapped to the king in surprise…but a quick jab by the claws of the cat soon snapped him out of it. "The Marquis of Carabas would be most honored, my liege, and graciously accepts your invitation." He looked to the young man. "…Isn't that your wish, my lord?"

Philippe was still almost rigid, but managed a nod. Tentatively, he began to advance to enter the royal carriage. Even as he did so, however, the cat moved to help him up, and whispered in his ear when he did.

"Still think I'm mad?"

The young man said nothing, only swallowed back all the anxiety he had inside of him, which was quite a lot, as he sat down next to the fair princess. At the last moment, he remembered how he had seen nobles sitting, and soon quickly adjusted himself. Once that was done, the cat readily climbed in alongside him and sat down nearby. The footman, soon after, shut the door, and climbed back on board. This too served to help "awaken" Philippe a bit…considering the fact that he was now shut in with two rich and powerful individuals. Nevertheless, he did his best to stay calm.

That was soon ruined, however, when the princess reached over and touched the back of his hand with the back of hers. Immediately, a chill rippled through his spine at the touch, making him shudder more than ever. The princess soon formed a look of concern. "Dear me…" She looked up and over to the king. "Father, Lord Carabas feels like he's half frozen. I fear he spent entirely too long in that stream."

The king's look turned to concern. "Truly? In that case, we should return you to your manor at once."

Philippe suddenly spasmed at that, and gave a bit of a cough that sounded more like a gag. It was so bad, the princess reached out and put a hand on his back, thinking he had swallowed something, and patted his back to try and get him to cough it up. That, naturally, only made things worse for him. However, Gaston interjected.

"Actually, my lord…I regret to say that my master's manor is quite far from here, and due to what has happened this morning, I do not believe we'll be able to return there before dark. If it wouldn't be too much trouble…and if he is not overstepping his bounds…I believe the Marquis humbly requests to stay the night at your castle." He looked at Philippe. "Isn't that so, your grace?"

The young man paused only a moment, before immediately nodding.

The king smiled in response. "Why, that wouldn't be any trouble at all. It's the least I can do considering the trouble you went through to come here. After all, you intended on making the visit anyway. I was already having a room prepared on the hopes that you would stay the night."

Philippe began to breathe a bit easier now, and started to calm once again. The princess, for her part, smiled on hearing that he would be staying.

"And then, bright and early tomorrow, after we have had our breakfast…my daughter and I will be happy to take you directly back to your own estate," the king continued. "I've been looking forward to seeing your vast fortune for myself."

Philippe's eyes suddenly turned as wide as saucers, and the ghost of a smile that had begun to form on his face suddenly faded. Yet that wasn't the worst part.

"Oh, that would be simply wonderful, exalted one!" Gaston spoke up. "We'll have a grand feast prepared for you that evening in your honor. You'll have the best rooms in the manor, and I'm sure you'll bring the warmest spark to the estate since my master first claimed it fully as his own."

Philippe, at this point, was starting to look apoplectic as he slowly turned to the cat. His arms went rigid, and, if one looked carefully, for a moment it looked as if they were rising with the intent of throttling the life out of the feline…

Before he could say or do anything, however, the king turned to the coach and called out. "Driver, we're heading back to the castle for today. But we'll have an early start tomorrow for the Marquis of Carabas' estate."

The driver cracked the reins, and the horses began to bear the carriage on again, taking it to the nearest turnaround in the path. The riders fell in at the front and behind. And Philippe, worried all over again, but his anger leaving him…leaned back in his seat and exhaled…all the while feeling like a baby chick surrounded by foxes that would devour him at the first opportunity.

"Lord Carabas."

The young man snapped to the king again, like he had been stuck on a hot plate.

"Now that we finally have a chance to meet face to face, we also finally have a chance to talk with one another. I must tell you, I've never seen such excellent game before the kind that you sent me. Is hunting one of your favorite pastimes?"

Philippe blinked. He swallowed a bit, and turned to the cat. However, Gaston merely indicated forward for him to go on. With that in mind, the young man swallowed again, and then looked back to King Andre.

"Um, well…to tell the truth…er…" He paused for a moment, desperately trying to think of something, and coming up dry…nothing more than his own boring life. "I…I…well…spend a lot of time at the…I mean, my mill…to…um…make sure it runs properly."

To his surprise, the king seemed agreeable to that. "Oh, is that so? So you're the sort of noble who likes to see the daily affairs in person? Ensures that his land is being well tended?"

Philippe blinked again. However, since King Andre seemed agreeable with it…he went with it. He nodded. "Um…yes…yes sir…I mean, yes, your grace. I…I've seen…quite a few things in my time. Not only the mill, but the wheat and barley harvests, the herding, the ranching…"

The princess smiled a bit at this. "You sound like a very responsible landowner, my lord. And it seems your land is thanking you for it, from what we hear of your estate."

"Yes, indeed," the king responded. "Day in and day out, I see lords and ladies come and go from my castle. They have amassed all of this wealth and power, and yet they know absolutely nothing of where it comes from. When you reach a certain point in life, you scarcely know what goes on outside your own borders…you just sit back and live off the fat of the land. I'm ashamed to admit I myself am guilty of that. I don't think I've been for a tour outside of my lands anywhere west of here in well over twenty years." He smiled a bit. "In that case, I have no one to blame but myself for not knowing of you sooner, my young friend."

"Tell me, Lord Carabas," the princess asked, "spending so much time in your country, do you see many travelers come through?"

He looked to her. "…Travelers?" he echoed. He paused afterward. "…Yes, yes I do. From north, west, east, and south."

The girl smiled more. "That sounds wonderful. I don't see many people aside from the nobles myself. Do they have any tales to tell of their homelands?"

The young man blinked and hesitated. He quickly tried to think of something, but only came up with some old story his mother once told him.

"Well…there was this one man passing through that, um…had a very smart raven for a pet. He had a thin jug of water to make sure the raven wouldn't drink anything out of it. But one day when it was hot, he spotted the raven filling it with one stone after another. After an hour, he looked, and saw the raven had filled up the jug so that the water would reach its beak, and then it refreshed itself. And, um…I looked at that, and it showed me what a valuable thing it is to be…hard working and persistent, that rewards come in time."

The princess let out a small laugh. "Lord Carabas, that's very astute of you."

"Yes indeed," the king added. "I would have just seen that as an intriguing sight, but for you to actually learn something about human nature from it? You must be quite an intelligent young man."

Philippe blinked in response. Was he serious? Almost everyone in the village knew that fable. The young man had imagined anyone of the nobility to be far more knowledgeable than him in almost every area. In a sense, he might have been right…but living in a palace all the time, surrounding yourself only with other nobles and hired help, especially in this part of the country…it tended to leave one lacking in "folk tales." And since more "noble" literature and poetry was focused on "realistic" things, he had their undivided attention at the moment.

"That's fascinating, seeing a raven so smart," the princess further commented. "What other stories do the travelers in your land tell?"

The young man, easing up a bit, while Gaston simply leaned back, crossing his legs and putting his paws behind his head, cleared his throat and spoke a bit more boldly. "Well, there was this other tale of a man who…who was a gambler, he told me. He wagered that he had a tortoise that could beat a rabbit in a footrace…"

As the ride went on, and Philippe continued to ease up and adopt his learned mannerisms, not to mention continued to go along with the cat, both the king and the princess were fascinated with him. More so than that, he marveled at his own ability to entertain them…and frequently smiled as he looked at the princess. He had never seen such a beautiful young woman in his life. This morning he never would have been able to even look on her, however. He would have considered himself filthy, poor, and unworthy even to say a word. Now, due to the circumstances, he was regaling her. Princess Adele was hanging on his every word. And when he slipped and began to speak in terms of a miller's son, in terms of how much they could lift and move around, she was even more flattered and amazed, because neither she nor the king had ever heard of a noble able to move so much or work so hard. While he was merely average compared to his fellow peasants, he had amazing prowess to them. By the end of the ride, when they had returned to the castle, he was so enamored with the princess and temporarily at ease that he first asked the king if he could help the princess from the carriage, and then bowed and kissed her hand as she came forth.

Philippe soon saw his unknown reputation proceeded him. The servants all bowed as low to him as they would their lord and master. They paid him high compliments and when, goaded by the cat, he would humbly request anything, they'd fetch it in an instant. He was overwhelmed by the luxury of the palace. The simple glass in which he was given some wine, something he had never even tasted before, was enough to feed him for two months easily. He probably would have swooned all together, if not for the fact that the princess kept catching his eye. As a result, in spite of his terrible situation and being so out of sorts, he managed to smile and still keep up the guise of a gentleman. When she requested that she join him in a side chamber (which nearly made him collapse except for the fact that they would be watched by both guards and servants), she showed him a beautiful harp-like instrument that he had never heard of, and played the most wonderful song he had ever heard for him, so much so that he nearly forgot all of the chaos that had brought him to this point, and simply looked on her lovely face with ever-growing affection.

At last, they were taken to the guest room when it was done being furnished. Servants were put at his disposal, but he dismissed them, saying that his cat would be sufficient. They were even given a key, so Philippe put it to good use. After both he and the cat were put in to rest a while before supper, he quickly closed the door and locked it.

Just being in the room—which felt more like a cell made of nothing but deceit and lies— was the most elegant room he had ever seen in his life, with more lovely furniture and accessories than he could have ever dreamed of buying. The bed was gigantic. He hardly knew why he would need all of it, or the four posts with curtains. He let out a heavy sigh, beholding all of it, but Gaston simply ran over to the bed, leapt on top, and leaned back.

"You could get used to this, couldn't you, Philippe?" he spoke quietly with a grin, making sure his voice couldn't be heard outside the room. "This is the life."

He merely raised his head and frowned as he removed his hat, walking away from the door. "Yeah…this is the life…and, by my count, I have only a day and a half of it left," he answered sourly.

The cat rolled over on his belly and smiled. "Then you owe it to yourself to make that day and a half a great one, right? I wouldn't skimp on any of the wine or meals."

"I'll stick with water, thanks," Philippe answered as he moved over to the bed and sat down on it. "That one glass made me feel so dizzy…"

"Eh, you just need to learn to hold your liquor."

"I don't think I can learn in a day and a half. Was this your plan all along, Gaston? You couldn't provide for me forever, so you bought me about two days worth of living like a landowner?"

"Of course not. I plan on you living a long and healthy life."

The young man grimaced. "…You said we're riding to my estate tomorrow, Gaston…and according to all those stories I can only presume you spread about me, I'm outrageously wealthy."

"So I did."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "…Exactly how can I get out of this one, Gaston? I don't think you can catch me a manor. And I can't very well claim robbers stole that too."

"First off," the cat answered, pointing a claw at him, "you will not be getting yourself out of anything. I will. Second, you just need to relax and keep being the Marquis of Carabas. That's your only concern." He paused, and then smiled a bit. "Well, that…and your courtship."

Philippe's fear and irritation vanished for a moment. "Wh…what do you mean?"

"You're quite taken by the princess, aren't you?" the cat said with a roguish grin. "And, from the looks of it, she's more than a little taken with you too."

"Wha…no!"

"Oh? So you don't like her?"

The young man paused. "Well…no. Of course I like her. She's…" He swallowed a bit, looking away and beginning to grow more nervous than ever. "…She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. And you should hear her play. She thinks all my jokes are funny, even the weak ones, and…and she has such a nice personality and a delicate touch…"

Suddenly, he snapped up and shook his head.

"But what difference does any of that make? I've got nothing to offer her or her father for her hand in marriage!"

"You've got the young lady's eye, and that's an excellent start, in my opinion," the cat responded. "And what do you mean by nothing? You're the Marquis of Carabas! You're a rich and powerful landowner!"

The young man groaned. "I am not! I'm some peasant in a set of nice clothes!"

Gaston shook his head. "Haven't you learned anything yet? Haven't you taken my first lesson to heart? I've been nothing but a mousecatcher my whole life. A pair of boots, a belt, and a hat later…and I'm the faithful and dignified servant of a great young nobleman. You don't seem to understand how far just having the right appearance can get you in life. It's enough to get you halfway through any situation you can think of."

"And how do I get through the other half?" Philippe asked critically.

"Savoir faire," the cat answered with his toothy grin. After saying that, he began to hop up. "Now then, we've got work to do before tonight, so let's get busy."

He blinked. "Doing what?"

The cat went to the floor. "Teaching you how to dance, of course."

His eyes enlarged. "What?"

"Don't worry. I've kept my eyes open for a while. All you need to do is three good dance steps. After that, you can claim you're too tired for any more."

The young man only began to sweat. "I can't do that! I don't know anything about dancing! I never even headed to those jigs at the festivals!"

"Never a better time to start, right?" Gaston casually answered.

He frowned. "If this isn't part of your 'master plan', then forget it. I'm sitting this one out."

"Oh really?" the cat said. With that, he crossed his arms and propped a paw on his chin. "…Then, when the lovely young Lady Adele wishes to dance with the handsome, dashing young nobleman who is staying the night in her house…I am to tell her you're too tired?"

Philippe froze on hearing that. He held momentarily, looking back at the cat, who merely smiled and waited patiently. At last, he sighed…and began his lessons.

The night went very well. The king noted that the Marquis of Carabas seemed to be a bit loose in his manners, lacking proper form and poise, but he supposed that was just due to his background. He was very gracious with everything he was offered, giving numerous thanks and praise. And as for Adele, she was glowing at dinner. He hadn't seen her look so happy in a long time, and he also noticed the Marquis was much the same.

After dinner, when the king suggested some dancing, the young man rose before Adele, bowed to her, and requested a dance. Although he had to change the song and tempo once or twice, and he was rough at it, he caught on very quickly. The king didn't fault him. After all, considering his upbringing, this might have been the first time he had a partner. The Marquis excused himself after only three dances, but after hearing two more songs and having the princess implore him, he rose again and danced one more time with her.

As he sat and watched this, seeing the two look into each other's eyes and dancing so slowly and close to one another, one of the court officials, the advisor, came up to his side and leaned in close, so that he could whisper in his ear.

"My liege, do you not think a person with such wealth and prestige as the Marquis of Carabas would not make an excellent suitor for Lady Adele?"

"I am tempted to agree with you. I have never seen her so happy and enamored since her mother died. Perhaps it wasn't just idle dreaming when she told me of her fantasies regarding the Marquis. And he is a handsome youth. A bit unusual compared to what I'm used to, but there is nothing wrong with that. Perhaps that is why he stands out so."

"So you believe he would make a good match?"

"I am not yet certain," the king immediately replied.

The advisor looked puzzled at this. "My lord, he has sent you gifts every day for the past month, he conducts himself as a young and dashing gentleman, and he's already seemed to win the heart of your daughter…"

"Unfortunately, one does not approve of a husband for his only child based on appearance alone," King Andre responded. "He has made a wonderful show, I'll grant him that. And I would be lying if I said I'm not fond of him and his peculiar manners. Yet I must look to Lady Adele's welfare and to the future of my dynasty. I have no sons or heirs, so I will likely bequeath everything to him when I pass on. I want to know if I am 'adding on' or 'taking away.' Now, if the tales that his unusual servant have told me are true, then there is nothing to be concerned about. However, I know both servants and young lords tend to exaggerate. And I was never tolerant of braggarts. I do not want to arrive at his estate tomorrow and find something humble and lacking. If that is the case, then how do I know he was not exaggerating everything? His fealty to me? His humility? His affection for my daughter?"

"Ah, very good sir," the advisor responded. "That is probably for the best, and I'm sure the matter will be settled tomorrow evening."

Although Philippe had a wonderful evening, he wouldn't have slept at all under normal conditions. Much as he found himself in love with the princess, the fact of the matter remained that in less than one full day's time he would have to entertain them at a non-existent estate when he had not one cent or square yard of property to his name. However, the events of the day had exhausted him, and what was left of his energy he spent dancing with the princess. The bed was softer, warmer, and more comfortable than anything he had ever slept in for his entire life. So he had barely settled down into it, planning on fretting and worrying all night long, when he fell right to sleep.

After enjoying the most comfortable rest of his life, he was awoken early by Gaston. A fresh set of clothing had been set out for him. The reality of the situation coming to him, he very slowly and nervously got dressed, before the cat brought him down to have breakfast with the king and princess. To try and save him some coming wrath, he thanked them earnestly for their hospitality. That done…he began to try and explain himself, but the cat stopped him each time with another seizing of the claws. It didn't help that both the king and princess were in a wonderful mood, both eager to finally see the property and estate of the Marquis of Carabas.

It took pretty much all of Philippe's fortitude to not act even worse than yesterday as he returned to the carriage. He wondered, if he acted a bit more pathetic if the king would take pity on him… However, what soon upset him even more was when the cat came up to him and whispered in his ear.

"Just tell him to head west along the main road, and keep up the act. Step two is complete, and there's only one step left."

"What are you talking about?" was what Philippe wanted to say, but before he could get a chance, the cat looked up and swept his hat in front of him to the king.

"If you please, sir…no messenger has been sent to my lord's manor, and therefore there have been no preparations to receive my lord and lady. Therefore, I humbly request your fastest horse, so I might ride ahead and tell them of your coming. I do not want you to arrive so late and find nothing at all prepared for our esteemed guests."

The king smiled and nodded. "No, by all means. So long as your master would have no offense."

"Oh, the Marquis of Carabas would have it so," Gaston answered, turning to Philippe with a smile. "Is that not your wish, my lord?"

Having little other choice than to trust the cat and pray he came through for him, the young man suppressed a swallow and nodded.

King Andre looked out to the riders assembling in the retinue. "Please give Monsieur Cat my fastest horse." He looked again to the feline. "However, please forgive my rudeness, but are you truly capable of riding an adult horse?"

The cat bowed humbly. "But of course, my lord. My master would be displeased with me if it were not so. And worry not for the speed. I am quite capable of handling myself. However, one other thing… Please, do take your time in arriving at my master's manor. I want to make sure all the preparations are made, but I'm certain that my lord wishes to see your country as well as have you enjoy his own."

Again, he looked to Philippe for confirmation. Suppressing a sigh, the young man nodded. "…Yes, your grace. I would very much like to enjoy today's ride."

The king chuckled. "Seeing as yesterday's ride was aborted prematurely, then very well, we shall."

"Thank you my lord," the cat responded, and then bowed to Philippe as well. "And I shall not fail to ensure that everything meets your expectations, my master."

It was all the young man could do to nod in reply.

Gaston wasted no time. As soon as he was on the back of the horse, he took off at a full gallop. The sun had just cleared the horizon when he took off from the castle, but it hardly went two more lengths into the air when he had already left the last of the fields behind, and by the time it reached a third length, he had reached the westernmost border. Beyond that lay a thick forest which served as a natural barrier for the road leading to all further lands. However, this one was far darker and more ominous than the other regions. In fact, several of the villagers had erected crude signs telling men to go no further, but since they couldn't read or write they were vague and hard to tell the purpose of now. The horse itself had to be spurred on, which was no easy feat considering it was a regular-sized cat on a full-grown horse. He almost wished he had requested spurs for his boots…

Nevertheless, he couldn't afford to ride easy. Step three might be the most challenging part, and the one that was pressed for the most time. If he had fingers, he would cross them at this point. If the stories he had heard were false, then Philippe was doomed, and he, himself, would likely be made into violin strings.

The forest stretched a considerable distance, and only grew darker and more foreboding as time went on. Much of the path was a bit rough, and overgrown with low-hanging branches. His horse was soon heaving and panting as he galloped. The cat knew little about formal riding, but he knew enough to know he should probably water the creature.

Luckily for him, a bit farther ahead, he spotted something on the side of the road, an old well and, with it, a grizzled old man who was pausing to refresh himself as he hauled a load of firewood. The cat soon slowed his horse into a trot, and brought him over to the well. Soon after that, he pulled the reins.

"Whoa there, boy!" he called out to the stallion, pulling him to a stop in front of the well.

The old man looked up at this, and showed no little astonishment. After all, he was seeing a cat riding a horse, and wearing boots and a hat of all things. He actually coughed a bit, and looked at his own drink to see if something odd was in it. As for the cat, however, he stood up in his own human-sized saddle, and looked at the old man.

"Hello, my good sir. Would you mind watering my horse? We've been riding hard from the east, and I am most interested in getting to the next kingdom as soon as possible."

The old man stared a moment, looking over both him and the horse, and finally nodded. "Very well, young cat. I must say, I have never seen as strange a sight as yours, but considering the country that lies beyond, I will not question it. Although I do not know what you may be…spirit, fairy, devil, or something else entirely…you must be something odd to dress so strange and come riding on a horse, to say nothing of going into the next country."

"I assure you, good sir," Gaston replied, "I am nothing more than a humble cat in the service of his master, and I am a stranger to these parts."

"In that case…" the man answered as he began to lower the bucket into the well. "You should turn your horse around and head back where you came, young cat. You do not want to venture anywhere near the next country."

The cat suppressed a smile. Sounding promising so far… "Really now?" Gaston answered as he feigned ignorance. "Is the country foul, or is there a famine?"

"On the contrary. The land beyond here is vast and rich. Some of the best land within three hundred miles. For years, it was the dominion of a king and his family, and his kingdom was the greatest anyone within these parts, low born or high born, has ever seen, or will ever see again, I wager."

"It sounds wonderful."

"Not anymore…not since twenty years ago," the old man answered as he began to draw the bucket back up again. "Something terrible happened. A great ogre from the hills came down and stormed the castle."

"An ogre?"

"Aye. Eight feet tall, almost all muscle, and ugly as sin itself."

"Even so, surely this king could afford a great deal of soldiers to deal with the threat of an ogre."

"But he wasn't a normal ogre by any means, young cat," the old man continued as he pulled the bucket all the way out, and set it down for the horse to drink. "He was a sorcerer as well. On coming up to the castle, he turned himself into a bear over twelve feet tall and scattered the soldiers like they were straw in the wind. He beat down the gates, entered, and then turned into a monstrous lion the likes of which I doubt even Hell contains. He devoured the entire royal family and set himself up as the new lord. The land is still rich and wealthy, and always yields a good harvest, but it avails neither the poor unfortunate souls living there nor anyone else a thing, for the ogre has the appetite of an army. He devours it all and leaves the people behind to fight over the scraps."

"That does sound dreadful," the cat responded…secretly ecstatic that he had found what he was searching for. "Did the servants flee the manor when it happened? Or was it not nearly large enough for them to flee without escaping notice?"

"Oh no…the estate in the center of that kingdom is larger than that of a king, but it did little good. He placed enchanted collars on all of the people within the manor, and they wait on him hand and foot, night and day. Even if they are exhausted, he continues to force them to toil, until they either collapse or he kills them through overwork. None of them can flee, and none of those in the country can escape him either. He sometimes goes out as a monstrous, ravenous wolf and devours any who tries."

"Oh my…and no one has come to the aid of this kingdom?"

"With the royal family gone, there is no one to call for aid. And even if they could, it would do no good. A hundred knights would be nothing to the ogre sorcerer."

The cat merely grinned in response, his teeth flashing.

"Perhaps not stupidly charging forward, but there's always a little something to be said for cleverness. Well, kind sir, thank you for that information and the water. And now, I shall be on my way."

Getting back into the saddle, he pulled the horse's head away, and quickly turned him forward to the road ahead. He readied to spur him on.

"Wait a minute, you darn cat," the man snapped. "Didn't you hear what I told you?"

"Yes, and thank you," Gaston answered as he spurred on his horse, and sent him riding to the west once again, leaving the old man to fume and mutter at how foolish the cat was in spite of his appearance.

Sure enough, it was only another mile or so before the forest broke, and the cat was once again in a rather large field. It was filled with wheat…but stretched as far and wide as the eye could see, over and down and up above all of the rolling hills. As he rode along down the road, he continued to look around, but only saw more of the same for many miles. The cat was quite impressed. And the wheat grew strong and healthy. He couldn't help but wonder a bit. Did that ogre really manage to eat all of this? He thought for certain this field could feed everyone in a fortnight's journey in all directions.

It took a while, but at last he began to see people up ahead…workers in the field. Although they had several wagons, and dozens, even hundreds, of them were working on the harvest, it would easily take some time to harvest it all, and only if they worked both in day and night shifts. They had already loaded a great deal into their wagons and yet still had plenty to spare. They stuck to their work…obviously people accustomed to toiling for a tyrant. However, in spite of all of that, many of them paused to see the unusual sight of a cat in boots riding a horse.

He continued to ride a bit further, keeping an eye out for someone who looked like a foreman or, better yet, a group of them. Eventually, he came up to a group that looked promising. Someone who seemed to be in charge was tallying each bundle of wheat that was loaded onto the new carts, and seemed to be directing the others. Much like his fellow workers, however, he paused as he saw the cat approach, especially when Gaston rode the horse over to him. As he neared, he pulled on the reins, causing the horse to gradually slow down. After a bit longer, he finally came up to the foreman and the surrounding workers. At this point, all of them came to a halt. They were no doubt accustomed to seeing a shapeshifter, and so, a cat riding a horse only aroused more of their attention.

As for Gaston, on stopping, he quickly leapt up and landed on the top of the saddle, using it as a podium. He had changed his demeanor now. Rather than calm and carefree, his eyes were creased, his gaze stern, and there was a fierce look about him. Coupled with his boots and other accessories, they made him look almost regal…enough to make the surrounding people wonder if he was a taskmaster set over the foreman. He, in turn, looked down at the foreman…and pointed a sharp claw at him so suddenly, the man startled a bit.

"You there!" he called roughly. "Are these the wheat fields of the ogre sorcerer who rules these lands?"

The foreman hesitated, but then gave a nod. "Yes, sir…um…Sir Cat."

He gave a stiff nod. "Good." He turned his head up soon afterward. "Now all of you, listen up and listen well!" he barked. "For if I have to repeat myself, your blood is on your own hands! In a short while, a carriage will be coming through here! If they ask to whom these fields belong, you are to tell them: 'These are the fields of the Marquis of Carabas'! If so much as one of you fails to do so, I will slice you all into mincemeat and bake your remains into a pie!"

In spite of how boldly he said this and with such confidence, one of the workers nearby broke into a smile and snickered. The others didn't change much.

Gaston, snapping his head like a whip, twisted and stared at the man so sharply, and with his eyes rapidly narrowing into slits, that all mirth fled the man's face in a moment.

"…Do you think that is funny, sir?"

The worker paused for a moment, regaining himself, and speaking with renewed confidence. "I'm sorry, but…am I to really take the threat of a cat seriously?"

The cat's pupils, if possible, turned narrower yet. A low growl rumbled in his throat…enough to give everyone pause.

"Let me ask you something…have you ever seen a cat give an order before?"

The laborer paused at the question, but then shook his head. "No."

The cat suddenly leapt off of the saddle and to the ground, making the worker recoil a bit, as did the others around him. It was more out of surprise than anything…but the tone of the cat was icy and dark.

"What about a cat wearing boots, a belt, and a hat? Even one of those things?"

The laborer, a bit unnerved at this, shook his head.

Gaston began to advance, looking right at him without blinking.

"Or riding a horse?"

Growing more uncomfortable, the man shook his head yet again.

"For a man who lives under the dominion of a shapeshifter, you're not very wise," the cat continued. "If I'm the first cat you've ever seen riding a horse, riding fancy clothes, and giving you all orders…and you know that you are under a master who can become anything he wishes…what's to say I'm not a still greater sorcerer than even he? What's to say I don't put up with insults? What's to say…" he held up his paw, "…that with a single flick, I can have four sharp, double-edged swords in place of claws and end your life with a single swipe? Or that fire can't come from my burning eyes?"

Each word was punctuated with a deadly edge. and the cat was able to make himself sound quiet serious. By now, the laborers were very uncomfortable. All of them seemed anxious to be away from this individual now.

"Now…"the cat finally stated. "Do you still question me on obeying a simple command? Or would you rather me demonstrate some of this power?"

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry!" the laborer cried, putting up his hands.

The cat instantly snapped to the others, causing them to move back. "What about the rest of you? What will you do when the carriage passes?"

The foreman put up his own hands defensively. "We'll tell them this field belongs to the Marquis of Carabas."

"Good," the cat retorted, turning back to his horse and walking back. "And remember…if I hear so much as one of you didn't do was told…I'll return for all of you."

Without another word, the cat leapt up, attaching his claws to the side of the saddle, pulled himself up into it, and with a snap of the reins, set the horse in motion again, running down the lane once more.

Just as the cat expected, that wasn't the last field he ran into. He finally left the vast wheat fields only to see an equally large field filled with barley. There were workers within that one as well. He went up to them and gave the same order along with the same threat. After that came a vineyard filled with grapes, far as the eye could see. The laborers there were told the same thing. At long last, he came upon a vast field where an equally vast flock, many hundreds of sheep, was being tended to by shepherds. They, too, were told the same thing.

After this field, there was nothing left except a lovely forest, long and thick, surrounding a hill far in the distance. The forest was so rustic and sylvan that one would have sworn it had been cultivated by hand rather than allowed to grow wild and free. A well-tended path went through it, leading up and through for some distance…until it came to the rocky hill many miles in the distance. The cat could just see the road going up to it, and what was at the top but nothing less than the most luxurious manor he had ever seen before in his life. It was even bigger than King Andre's. Even the cat, who had little care for the things that humans clung to, found himself almost humbled.

Yet on seeing it, he flashed his claws again and retracted them, then gave his paw a once over with his tongue.

"He's going in for the kill…" he purred as he spurred the horse onward.

As it turned out, the king did indeed take the advice of Philippe and Gaston, and made sure to take his time and to talk with the young man further, although he wasn't nearly as talkative today. Even with the princess at his side and smiling, he couldn't help but feel progressively more uncomfortable, knowing his doom could very well be drawing closer with each passing moment. He felt his heart pick up its pace as they entered the forest on the perimeter of the territory. The very darkness and gloom that encroached around them made him feel like the world was crushing in on him. Each tree branch that scraped the top of the elegant carriage felt like some great, invisible persecutor reaching for him…

As they left the forest, it became impossible to hide any longer. The princess, looking at him with great concern, leaned inward.

"Lord Carabas, are you feeling alright? You look dreadful."

The young man, who had been looking out the window with ever growing tension, and not even noticing the fact that they had emerged from the forest and entered the country again, looked back inside. He swallowed a bit. "Just…just…um…feeling a bit nervous."

"About not being prepared to receive us?" King Andre answered. He chuckled a bit. "You should have as much faith in your servant as I do. That was my fastest stallion. I'm certain he'll be there long before we are, especially at our leisurely pace. There'll be more than enough time for preparation."

The princess reached out and patted his hand. "Don't worry so, my lord. I'm certain he'll take care of everything."

Philippe swallowed a bit. "…I certainly hope so, my lady," He half muttered.

"Come now," the king said encouragingly. "It's a lovely day outside. The sun is shining and the day is clear." He looked out the window. "The view stretches for miles in every direction. You couldn't have prayed for better weather." He continued to peer out for a moment, and then looked a bit more intrigued. "I do say…I don't think I've seen such large wheat fields in a long time. My child, have a look at this."

The princess looked at Philippe a moment longer, and then looked out the window herself. She soon lit up. "I've never seen such healthy and full crops in any of our outings father. It all looks so lovely…like a sea of rolling gold."

The king leaned his head slightly closer to the window and looked out. "…Goodness alive, they stretch on for miles. Adele, are they stretching out on that side as well?"

The young woman looked outside. "Why, yes they do, father. It really does resemble a sea now."

"They're even larger than my own, and I don't mean to boast but that is saying something," the king responded. He soon turned to Philippe. "Lord Carabas, whose fields are these?"

Philippe looked less than enthused about the wheat and was practically leaning on the side of the carriage as his eyes stared out the window. "Oh, I don't know…" he half-muttered, not really paying attention to the question.

King Andre and Princess Adele both blinked at that, noticing his strange behavior. However, it didn't last for very long. The king merely smiled again. "Well, no matter." He looked out the window again and called up again. "Driver, do you spot anyone working these fields?"

"There are a large group of laborers harvesting just a short distance ahead, my lord," the voice responded.

"Very good. Could we halt the carriage before them when we reach them?"

Philippe barely paid any attention to any of this, in spite of the growing concern of the princess. The king, however, was more patient. They continued to drive on a bit farther, and finally the driver gave the call. All of the riders in the retinue began to slow, and the carriage itself was drawn to a halt. When that happened, the laborers were on the princess' side of the carriage. Philippe wasn't even looking at them. As for the king, however, he slid over to the other side of the carriage when they paused, and looked out the window.

"Hello there!" he called out to them. This caused several to pause in their work and look at him. "Excuse me, sirs, but could I trouble one of you to tell me to whom these fields of wheat belong?"

The one who looked like the foreman soon turned fully to him. "These are the fields of the Marquis of Carabas, my lord."

A loud thunk was heard in the carriage, and both the princess and the king looked back inside, just in time to see Philippe retreat into the carriage, grasping at his head. Apparently, he had sat up bolt upright so quickly that he had banged his head on the interior. He now turned and looked out in shock, his eyes looking like they would drop out of his head.

"Wha…wha…what did he just say?!" he spoke in a strained, hushed tone.

"He said that these were the wheat fields of the Marquis of Carabas, my lord," the princess answered.

"But…but…but I'm the Marquis of Carabas!" the young man squeaked in response.

Both the king and the princess looked at him a bit blankly and confused at that. After a moment, not knowing how else to respond, the princess gave a nod. "Um…yes, yes you are, my lord."

The king held for a moment, but then smiled and chuckled. "My young friend, don't tell me you're so wealthy you don't even know your own land." Giving another short laugh, he looked to the door and called out, "Thank you, driver. We can go now."

The princess, still a bit concerned for Philippe, reached out her hand and placed it on his again in a comforting gesture. "Are you feeling alright, my lord? You almost look like you're surprised that those fields are yours."

"I am!" he answered as he looked to her…before, at long last, his brain recovered enough from the shock to work again. He gave it a shake. "I mean…I…well…I…I had forgotten how, um…large they were."

…How in God's name did that cat manage to do that?! he gasped inwardly.

While Philippe was still trying to recover from his initial shock, Gaston had finally arrived at the castle. It was a grand and wonderful place…or, at least, it had been while it was still owned by men. Stakes with the remains of peasants and past enemies mounted on them were all around the front. The various boxes for flowers had been uprooted, and the parapets, which once held delightful banners, had been replaced with black ones bearing smashed skulls. There was no drawbridge here as at King Andre's castle, but that was somewhat unnecessary, as there was a high and formidable outer wall. The gates, heavy, oaken, and wrought with iron, were tightly fastened. There were no guards on the walls, however. Only a watchman. Gaston supposed it made sense. After all, could the ogre sorcerer really trust the guards of the people he was oppressing to keep him safe?

Besides, if he really could turn into a monstrous bear…

The cat tried not to think about that. Confident and suave as he was…this would be his greatest challenge, and he had to pray that the ogre was as dense as the legends said in spite of his magical power.

Dismounting his horse at a distance from the castle, he had some trouble tying it to an unused stake. The animal sensed the danger, and wanted to be gone. There was no sound coming from the castle, but only ravens expecting more food—like the last people who had been staked outside—and the howling of the wind. It didn't do much for the cat's nerves…but he couldn't stop now. Not only was it his head on the line, but Philippe's as well. This would either end in resounding success or colossal failure.

With that in mind, he adjusted his hat, smoothed the fur rising on his back, and then began to walk to the front gate. Once there, he picked up a stone and threw it at the door to give it a knock. It echoed hauntingly in the quiet.

A moment later, a viewing panel opened. A servant, miserable, gaunt, and wearing a circle of iron around his neck like a common dungeon prisoner, popped into the window and looked around. For a moment, he was confused, for he saw nothing. But then, his eyes glanced below, and he spotted the cat. Soon after, he pulled back in, shut the porthole, and then opened a door large enough for one man in the gate. The cat soon saw that although he was finely dressed, he looked quite downcast, and his clothes hadn't been washed in some time.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked in a none-too-welcoming tone…but also one filled with despair and hopelessness.

The cat merely smiled in response. "I've come to see the ogre who rules over these lands. Is he within?"

The servant was silent. He stared at the cat for a moment. Finally, without a word, he began to back up and shut the door. Yet Gaston wouldn't let him. Quickly, he advanced, and put his boots to good use by thrusting a foot in the door.

"No, wait…I'm in earnest!" he insisted.

"Begone with you," the servant stated, still trying to shut the door. "Regardless of what purpose you come by your odd dress, you're clearly a fool."

"All I wish to do is speak with the ogre!" the cat answered. "Where's the harm in that?"

The servant stopped pushing, but continued to block the door and look grimly down at him. "I'll admit, when I first saw you, you caught my eye, for I've never seen a cat dressed in such a way, carrying himself like you, and most certainly not making such odd requests. However, your features and demeanor will avail you nothing before the ogre. If he is displeased with you, he will devour you on the spot. And if you meet his favor, your only reward will be one of these." He reached up and tapped the iron around his neck.

"…A collar?" the cat answered. "I am a cat, sir, and accustomed to such things."

The servant frowned a bit. "This is no ordinary collar. It binds you to his service, and it has no seam or lock. It will only come off the day he dies, but an ogre lives ten times as long as a man. We will all be dead long before his reign is over. And so will you, and only if you are lucky. So be gone."

"Aw, come on," the cat said with a smile. "Why would he bother with a small mouthful such as me? I have a way with putting people into a good mood. And that would be better for everyone here, wouldn't it? At the bare minimum, I can buy you a few moments of the tyrant not having his gaze on you, and wouldn't you like that? It's been my life's dream to see an ogre face-to-face…and I'm sorry, but in spite of your warning I can't just let this opportunity pass me by."

The servant looked at him a bit longer, but, on seeing the cat wouldn't turn, he sighed.

"Very well. Your life is in your own hands if you will not be dissuaded." He pulled open the door. "Come in, but I suggest praying first."

Soon, Gaston was being led inside to the main castle. Unlike the exterior, the courtyard was quite lovely and well maintained…albeit by rather miserable-looking servants and laborers, all of whom looked to be in the pit of despair and wore the same iron collars. Apparently, whoever this ogre was, in spite of being a brute he had excellent taste. This place would make a most lovely garden, between its well-cared-for flowers and trees and its thick carpet of grass, down to its cobblestone paths for carriages and horses to come in through. It was a pity that the ogre was hoarding it to himself.

Being let inside through a pair of elegant doors, he found the interior was even more lovely. He hadn't seen such nice décor and furniture even within the king's own castle, and the place was so extensive that even the cat would have gotten lost in it the first time through. Fortunately, the servant continued to accompany him, leading him through one grand room after another. Each one was spotless and pristine, often having more enslaved servants cleaning them, and filled with finery and expensive, luxurious items…but also unused. The true sign of a miser.

At long last, he came to what he believed was the "grand hall," with another set of doors, so large and formidable that they extended to the ceiling. The servant walked before him to these, and gave a knock.

Soon after, he heard a large voice boom so loud from the inside that it rocked the hall beyond. It sounded less like a man, and more like some ferocious beast.

"How dare you disturb me in the middle of my afternoon meal?! Who is the dead man who ruins my feast?!"

The servant finally changed his expression now, immediately cringing, trembling, and becoming pale in the face. He swallowed. "…Please forgive me, your majesty. It wasn't my fault."

"How was it not your fault, you pathetic little man?!" the voice boomed so loud that dust rained from the ceiling.

"My lord…you ordered me to bring anyone who requested to see you before you—"

"Not during meals, you incompetent fool!" the ogre blasted in response, actually making the timbers of the door creak. "Send the maggot inside at once! And after I have devoured him, I will see whether or not I wish to have you for dessert!"

The servant was paler than ever now, only a shell of his former self. He looked down at Gaston…and the cat himself was more than a bit tense now. He struggled not to tremble as well or have his fur raise. The servant grimaced at him.

"You should have taken my advice. Now you'll meet whatever fate he has in store for you," he grimly stated, as he began to open the door.

Too late to turn back now… the cat thought, inhaling deeply. He smoothed himself out and looked inside.

The cat had never seen such a sight. The room was large enough for a grand ballroom, and likely was…between the crystal chandelier and the fireplace large enough to fit large sections of tree trunks. However, most of it was empty save for a tremendous banquet table, piled high with food. Roast venison, turkey, ham, cauldrons of soup, mounds of bread, the finest cooked vegetables, puddings, dressing, and tankards of ale with bottles of wine. There was enough here to feed three hundred…and yet as the cooks and servants nervously looked to it and served it up, it was soon clear it was only for one guest.

An eight foot tall beast of a creature was seated in a massive armchair. It had once been a grand throne, it seemed, but was now the only chair large enough to fit him. A thick, cushioned footstool was nearby, and he rested his bare feet on it. Servant girls who had been forced to dress scantily nervously stayed nearby, with two fanning him and other ones nervously giving him a massage. All of them looked very unhappy to be around him, but really didn't have a choice in the matter. He smoked a pipe the size of a rain gutter as he glared toward the front entrance of the room.

He was hideous beyond belief. His look was vaguely that of a man, but he looked mossy and rotten, like something drug from a swamp. His hair was disgusting and greasy, his teeth jutted out oddly from his cavernous mouth, and his hands were as gnarled as old tree roots. His feet looked coated with moss and toadstools, and Gaston could smell them from here. He pitied the women who had to get anywhere near those…yet he couldn't help but suppress a gulp of his own as the ogre reached over, seized the entire leg of a boar from the table, tossed the entire leg into his mouth, and ate it…bones and all.

Gaston was in a bit of awe at all of this…but not as much as the ogre. He opened his mouth, and the cat almost felt the air around him be pulled as he inhaled, no doubt planning to bombard him with a roar…when he paused. The ogre's look turned from anger to confusion, seeing a cat wearing a hat, a belt, and boots in his chamber. No doubt, he had never been expecting that in the least.

That means that's my chance.

Immediately, the cat went to work. As he walked into the room, he suddenly froze. His eyes went wide and his pupils shrank. His mouth hung open, and he stared. After a moment, his front paws fell to his side and he stared with a dumbfounded look. He gasped a few times, as if trying to say something, but unable to do it. Finally, after a few gags, he got it out…in an awed whisper that was nevertheless able to be heard by the ogre.

"It's…it's him," he stammered. "It's him…it's really him… I'm actually here…standing in his dining room…looking at him…"

The ogre blinked once, and then formed a look of confusion. "Eh?" he answered…even that slight noise blowing back the cat's fur and knocking him backward a bit. He immediately looked around himself a bit, looking for who the cat was talking about. Inwardly, this made the cat grin. A tyrant and a fool… Now only one thing left to check on to make sure this would go perfectly…

He removed his hat and grasped it in front of himself with a mixture of awe and reverence, and he slowly began to walk forward. With each step, he seemed more overwhelmed and awed. "At long last…through the most impossible of circumstances…I stand before his greatness in the actual flesh…the greatest of all ogre sorcerers in the entire world… The stuff of legends and myths… It's actually him… Am I dreaming?"

The ogre looked back to him, and looked more puzzled. The other servants paused in their work, and likewise gave the cat strange looks. "What? Are you talking about me, cat?"

The cat risked a weak smile and a chuckle as he continued to approach. "Why, of course, my great and powerful lord! My shining star! My pillar of power and prestige! I mean…who else could be worthy of such acclaim! Such notoriety! Such a reputation! And I must say…the stories woefully underplayed your greatness! Why…I've never seen such a handsome and majestic ruler! I feel so awed! So in reverence!"

Hearing this constant stream of flattery only served to confuse the servants more, but luckily for them it no longer mattered. The ogre, at this point, on learning who the cat was talking about…began to break into a smile. While he was able to surround himself in luxury and prestige, and could make anyone do or say anything he wanted…he hadn't heard "willing" praise in his life, and never dreamed of it being so lavish. He let out a chuckle.

"Well now…you're certainly a mannerly cat, aren't you?" He laughed. "It feels good to know that someone is finally giving me the honor I'm due."

"Oh, your eminence and glory…I am but one of thousands, I assure you," the cat stated as he finally drew near enough to kneel. "You are the talk of the entire countryside! The figure of legend! The greatest of conquerors! And it is because of that reason that so many are fearful to come into the presence of your greatness and terror. But my great and exalted one…after hearing tales of your power and might for my entire life, I could not contain myself any longer to go without seeing you. I told myself how I was privileged to live in the time of the greatest of beings to walk the Earth, and that I owed it to myself to try and see him in the flesh, or I would forever hate myself for not doing so. I see now how foolish people are to not see you themselves…for one look at your face is enough to make even the lowliest man feel complete."

By now, the ogre was grinning and chuckling a bit, drinking in the praise like a winebibber does spirits. This was all the confirmation the cat needed. He was dealing with not only a tyrant and a fool…but also a vain and arrogant individual. The work was practically done for him already.

"Well now, tiny cat…I'm glad I was able to give more fulfillment to your short life. You've made me happier than I've been in a long time to hear the praise that's due me. Do others really speak of me so well?"

"Oh, but of course! How could anyone not do so?" the cat answered. "And, if it pleases you, oh great and magnificent one, I would be more than happy to share all I have heard over a bottle of wine."

The ogre chuckled. "Heh…by all means." Snapping to the nearest servant, his smile vanished and he barked at him, "A chair for the cat, right now. Have it here in 30 seconds or it's your head." He looked back to Gaston with a smile. "I'll have a large bottle brought out. I don't want to miss a single detail."

"These fields and all of the barley in them belong to the Marquis of Carabas."

The king, by now, was quite surprised. The wheat fields alone would have been enough to make the young man in the carriage quite wealthy. But with all of these fields of barley, every bit as large and majestic as the wheat fields, then the Marquis' wealth was now approaching that of his own. He had to be honest…before now he believed that the cat had been speaking in hyperbole when he told of how the Marquis had once insulted another king simply due to his vast estate. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Philippe, for his part, had again sunk backward into his seat and blinked to hear what had just been said. The princess looked at him, and offered a soft smile. "My lord, surely you knew of this part of your estate."

He blinked twice. "No…I mean, yes…I mean…I…"

"Didn't you say that you always went out into the country to see how your laborers were doing?" the princess asked, looking genuinely confused.

The young man went rigid at this. At last…a hole had been discovered in his story. Although it was only a small one, he soon began to feel himself break a sweat… This was the beginning of the end.

Yet even as he began to fret, the king let out a long laugh.

"Oh, of course…how could I be so absent minded… This is exactly what your faithful servant warned us about, Adele."

The princess looked to King Andre…but so did Philippe. "…Excuse me?"

"I should have known all along," the king continued with a smile. "He told me of great your humility was and how humble you are, how afraid you are to give offense to men of power or to flaunt your prestige. So you've been playing the fool ever since we came into this country, haven't you? You've been so afraid that you'll come across as a braggart and pompous that you refuse to even admit to your own estate."

"I…do…?" the young man hesitantly answered. As he blinked, however, the princess only lost all confusion on her face, and replaced it with a smile.

"Lord Carabas, you're the most interesting noble I've ever met. I've seen suitors…I mean, other nobles come to the palace before, but they always only talk about how great their realms are and how much they possess, trying to astonish and attract me and my father. Yet you allow your estate to speak for itself without boasting. I've never seen such a humble man."

"I, for one, think it's a wonderful trait," the king answered. "Far too many people, especially lords of your status, lack humility. But please, my young friend, do not fear any longer. You are receiving me and the princess as your guests, and we are at your disposal at this time, not the other way around. Aside from that, after all of your gifts and the wonderful time we had yesterday, you almost feel like a son to me. I assure you, you are not causing me offense or envy in the slightest."

After saying this, he looked back out the window. "Driver, do you have the Marquis' manor in sight yet?"

"No, my liege. We must still be many miles off."

"Is that so? Well, at any rate, let us be on our way."

After an hour, Gaston had the ogre fully ensnared. He was alone with him now in the main hall, and had a tiny glass that would only fit in the thumb and forefinger of a full grown man from which he sipped wine, while seated in a wooden chair and regaling the tyrant with his stories. As for the ogre himself, he drank from a wine glass the size of a stein and continuously topped himself off from a massive bottle. He was rather merry now despite being great and terrible. He couldn't get enough of the cat.

"…And then there's that one traveler I ran into who claimed you drank an entire river dry in one sitting, and the other that said he saw you pull up forests, roots and all, as if they were nothing more than young carrots. And then…then there was the nobleman who said he saw you once throw a great millstone into the air, and it didn't come down for four days!"

The ogre merely laughed and beamed with pride at all of this, not denying any of it. All of it, of course, was lies, and the ogre himself knew it. Yet he wasn't about to let the cat stop heaping praise on top of him. The vain monster enjoyed it too much. And the more he heard, the more he wanted.

After taking another sip, the cat exhaled and shook his head at him. "Before this day, I always thought of you as some sort of colossus…a monument and legend among men. But now…now that I see you in person…I realize they were all wrong. You're no colossus."

The ogre froze here, his smile fading. His eyes looked down to the cat in some irritation. However, the cat merely smiled wider in response.

"You're more like a god."

Instantly, the smile returned to the lips of the sorcerer, and he let out a booming laugh as he drained his own glass. Again, the whole room rocked, and from this distance Gaston thought he could almost feel the marrow in his bones tremble. However, when it was done, the ogre beamed at the cat.

"This kingdom could do with more creatures such as yourself who have such good manners and an appreciation for power. Especially ones who speak in such lovely words."

"Without a doubt, this meeting has been the highlight of my life," the cat said. "From now on, all other days, events, and meetings will be irrelevant compared to it." He paused momentarily after saying this, and then began to bow his head a bit.

The ogre raised an eyebrow. "Is something the matter, tiny cat?"

Gaston shook his head. "Oh no, your magnificence. Nothing is the matter. It's just, well…um…" He paused a bit.

"Go on. Speak your mind."

"Well, great and noble and esteemed sir…I was wondering if you would be kind enough to grant your servant and devoted admirer a request… You see…" He looked up at him. "I have spent my whole life regaled by stories of your greatness, and constantly seeking more so that I might better appreciate your power. Yet alas…I have never had the privilege in my entire life of seeing you perform one of your fantastic feats." He sighed miserably. "And I feel so wretched… I have gone far and wide hoping to see someone who could do half of the things you have done, and have always ended up so horribly disappointed… It would mean the world to me if you could show me the smallest sample of your great power."

The ogre burst out in laughter once again, so strong this time that the cat was nearly knocked over. At once, he threw aside the bone he was cleaning of meat, and began to rise. "Not a problem at all, tiny cat. I'd be more than happy to for such an eloquent and smart beast."

At once, the misery evaporated, and the cat grinned with delight as he rose to his feet in a flash, holding his hat before him eagerly. "You will? Truly? Oh…oh thank you, your gloriousness! You've made me the happiest creature in the entire world! Now then…everyone knows what your greatest power of all is: your ability to transform yourself. If it's not too much trouble, I would be forever grateful and awed if you would turn into a beast that would freeze my soul in terror. So many things in this world claim to be horrific, but are nothing to a cat. The concerns of men are things they simply sidestep or go around, and so I have never felt true fear before in my life. So, if you could do that…"

The ogre grinned and chuckled…but also took a dark edge on his voice.

"Heh…I can do that without a problem. Over here, tiny cat."

The ogre turned and walked into the more open part of the room, each footstep sounding like a boulder was being dropped on the floor in spite of having no shoes. Once in the open, he turned and looked to Gaston. The cat, for his part, drew nearer to him so that he was fully in view, but moved no closer. Once there, he held his hat tightly and grinned, waiting for the show to begin.

"I warn you though, tiny cat…having one's soul frozen in terror is something most don't want."

"But I've never felt it, and it's my dream," the cat answered. "Besides…even if it's unpleasant, that's a small price to pay for seeing you demonstrate your power."

The ogre laughed again, his grin turning large and cruel. "As you wish, tiny cat…"

The great monster hesitated only a moment…and then, all at once, it began. Opening his mouth, he gave forth a roar like the voice of doom. His spine gave a mighty crack as he bent over and planted his gnarled hands on the floor. At once, his feet and fists twisted and lengthened, as his entire body grew larger yet. The bits of clothing on him shredded off, revealing nothing but a mountain of solid muscle, which immediately turned black as midnight. Thick, shaggy fur burst forth from his body all over as his eyes turned thin and deep, blood red in color. His teeth reshaped and filled a large, growing mouth…each one razor sharp. A mane went all around his head as a tail burst from behind, and his body continued to reform and reconstruct, growing larger and larger yet…until, despite being four legged, the ogre stood fifteen feet from shoulder to foot. The base of said foot, however, grew connected, thick, padded, and tipped with deadly claws, all while the beast continued to roar.

In a mere five seconds it was over. The ogre was gone. In its place was a lion that looked as if it had emerged from the bowels of Hell. He was black as the night, save for his eyes, which were filled with blood-red lust, and his mouth, which belched forth sulfur and flame. Indeed, the whole monster seemed to smolder and burn as if he was snatched fresh from the inferno. Each gesture he made was enough to shake the whole room.

And as for Gaston, his hat had fallen from his hands, and he had gone as still as a statue, his eyes gigantic and his jaw nearly hitting the ground…no longer fake, but genuine as he saw the massive creature tower over him like a demon.

Somehow, the great beast managed a grin, showing off two rows of razor-sharp teeth, and lowered his head down to him. With a snort of searing breath and a voice that shook the foundations, he spoke out to him.

"Boo."

In the time it took to crack a whip, the cat was not only on the other side of the room, but twenty feet in the air on a tapestry, shaking all over and desperately clinging to it by his claws. It wasn't easy, considering the fact his rear claws were in the boots. He continued to sit there and tremble for some time before the hat he abandoned had managed to drift to the floor, his ears slicked back and staring nervously at the monstrous lion.

At this, however, the lion reared his head back and let loose a booming laugh that sounded like no less than thunderclaps. "What's the matter, tiny cat? Are you really so frightened of one of your own kind?" In spite of his appreciation for the praise, the ogre's cruel and sadistic nature shone through in these words.

He rose to his full height as he kept laughing…but it was no longer as long as it should have been. He was shrinking, his hair falling out and turning to nothingness, and his skin turning green again. His tail receded once more and the mane disappeared. His face compressed and the teeth became broader again as his fingers and toes returned, and the bloodlust left his vision. Even the meager clothing he wore seemed to reform on his body…until the ogre was left standing there, still laughing loudly. That voice alone was enough to rock the chamber and make the crystal chandelier shake, but compared to the lion it was far more manageable.

"Come on down, tiny cat!" the ogre laughed after a moment. "There's no need to fear! I wouldn't dream of devouring such a polite and intelligent beast!"

I think I just lost three of my nine lives from that…but I asked for it, the cat told himself. Anyway…I need to calm myself and get back to work.

He breathed in and out a few times, before forming a weak smile as he began to descend the tapestry again. Once he hit bottom, he began to approach nervously. After all, he had no idea the ogre could transform so quickly. Yet as he neared, he calmed enough to go from fear to awe, and by the time he stood before the ogre again, he was once again in total reverence.

"Never before have I dreamed I would see anything so spectacular… For a moment, I thought my soul would literally leap forth from my mouth… Again, you astonish me by showing me the vast difference between gossip and the real thing… Your gloriousness…your magnificence…your awesomeness…never before have I seen anything so incredible, and never will I see anything like it again." Reaching his hat, he bent down to take it off the ground, but only to perform a gallant bow to the ogre. The ogre, in turn, only grinned all the wider.

"Heh…why, tiny cat, I'm surprised at you. After everything you had heard about me, did you really think it was beyond my power to do something like that?"

"Oh…a thousand apologies, your magnificence…" the cat echoed. "But always, I fear, we mere mortals have the smallest kernel of doubt in our hearts. But please forgive me this infraction… It was the locals of the nearest village who scoffed at your power and claimed there was a limit to your ability to transform…who uttered such dreadful blasphemies so loud and long…that even your humble servant was nearly taken in by their deceit."

The ogre frowned in response to that. "I think I might pay a visit to this village and teach the entire town some manners to make them pay the price of spreading lies. Storymongers must be punished for insulting my greatness."

"Oh, please sir…do not trouble yourself with such a trifle. They are not worthy of your time." He looked up boldly. "By your leave, great sorcerer, I myself will deal with them personally. It will be my esteemed honor to report of your power firsthand, and force them to acknowledge their lie before I run them through. I will be more than happy to spend the rest of my short days on this world making sure that all know and appreciate your fearsome power…more terrible than a thunderstorm…more ravaging than a flood…more glorious than a rainbow!"

The frown vanished as the ogre smiled widely again. "I find that arrangement to be quite pleasing, tiny cat. Go and do just as you say. I'll even provide you with whatever you need for your journey."

Gaston shook his head. "Oh no, your brilliance…you have already done so much for lowly me that I would not trouble you an instant longer. I believe I will start by cutting out their tongues to punish them for their heresy before I strike them down…" he mused aloud as he turned and moved to leave.

However, only a few steps away, he hesitated. "Although…"

The ogre looked up at this. "What is it?"

The cat hesitated. "Well…that is irrelevant, I'm sure. Even if they could, nothing they could do could ever possibly compare to the fantastic sight I have just witnessed…" he mused to himself…although easily loud enough for the ogre to hear.

"Eh? What's that?" he echoed, stepping forward.

After a moment, the cat turned back to him. "Oh, nothing, my lord. Think nothing of it. I just feared those worthless dogs of men would try to cling to their belief, even if I was to tell them what I witnessed and strike them down…"

"What are you talking about?" The ogre snorted. "You've seen my greatness with your own eyes!"

"Oh yes, your eminence…I most certainly have. And there isn't the slightest question in my mind that you are, by far, the greatest in the world. Yet those worthless dogs claimed to have seen other sorcerers who could likewise change their form, and boasted that they could become things even greater and more magnificent."

The ogre let out a sharp growl, baring his jagged teeth. "It's a lie! You've seen it yourself! How none can compare to me!"

"But of course, my lord, and I myself have no doubt in my mind of that truth," the cat answered, fully turning back to him. "But these worthless, foolish men…they will cling to their false notions based merely on lies and myths."

"Tell me what they claim is greater than me!" the sorcerer blasted, beating his chest with a fist so loudly it knocked a few platters off the table. "Tell me what form they think surpasses mine! I will show you something twice as great and terrible!"

"I have no doubt that you will, your imperviousness…but, sadly, men are foolish, especially those who cling to their folly," the cat ruefully explained. "No matter how much I talk of how great you are, they will stubbornly cling to the notion that the false, imaginary sorcerers they have in mind are greater yet. I would much prefer if I could make these foul liars admit their ignorance before their deaths…but I fear I may have to content myself with simply ending their lives so they can spread their foolishness no more."

The ogre didn't care for that. His greenish tint began to turn red as he fumed, hating the fact that anyone would dare question his power. By now, he was even more full of himself than before after hearing the cat's praise. Yet suddenly, the cat lit up a bit.

"Although…I believe I know one sure way to make them admit their wrongs…"

On hearing that, the ogre's anger abated, and he looked up. "You do, tiny cat? Well, what is it?"

"There are a great many sorcerers in this world that can turn into all manner of large and frightening beasts," the cat responded. "One would think it is easier for someone great and terrible to become greater and more terrible. Yet never before in all my life have I ever heard of any sorcerer who could do just the opposite…who could change themselves into something tiny and harmless. Such a power doesn't exist among all the sorcerers in the world…"

However, this only made the ogre grin again. "Among those petty conjurers it may not, tiny cat, but you should know by now that I am like a god on this world, and it is no more difficult for me to become something small and weak than it is for me to become something great and strong!"

Gaston lit up at that. "Truly? Oh…oh my great and glorious lord! You continue to make more legends for yourself! If I was to see you with my own eyes turn into something small and delicate, I would stun those braggarts and liars with something they could not counter! They'd be forced to admit they were in the wrong to speak such terrible things against you!"

The ogre grinned wider. "In that case, I shall show you such a wonder. It's nothing to me. I could easily do this without tiring."

The cat clapped his paws in delight, beginning to approach again. "Would you, your magnificence? Could you? Could you turn into something truly indisputable as being small and feeble? Say…a simple garden mouse?"

"Alright," the ogre answered as his arms went to his sides. "Watch carefully…so you can give those fools an accurate report."

Once more, the ogre changed. Once more he snapped over and landed on all fours, and once more a tail burst forth from him. But rather than be covered with black fur, it lengthened into a ringed bit of pink flesh. His body began to shrink rapidly, until his clothing fell off of him entirely. Beneath, his muscles reduced and rearranged before sprouting brown fur. His mouth lengthened, and most of his teeth reduced in size—all but the front teeth, which became a pair of chisels. His nose became small and black and covered with whiskers, and his ears lengthened and grew flap-like. Beaming in awe of all of this, the cat began to step forward, watching closely as the ogre grew smaller and smaller and smaller…first man-size, then child-size, then a size no bigger than Gaston himself, and then smaller yet.

A moment later, and the transformation was finished. In the midst of the clothing stood nothing more than a small brown mouse, tinier even than the ones found in homes. As the cat came before him and stood, the tiny mouse got up on its hind legs and looked up to him.

"There you go!" the mouse piped in a tiny squeak, not even a shadow of the massive, intimidating ogre with the roar of a voice he had once been. "Now tell me, aren't I the greatest sorcerer in the entire world!"

The cat grinned in delight…showing all of his teeth and an innate instinct behind his eyes.

"Amazing!"

And, after one pounce and three quick bites…the ogre was gone forever.

It took a few moments before anyone arrived. In the meantime, Gaston casually moved a short distance from the ogre's former clothes, and took a moment to lick his paws clean. "For such a disgusting fellow, he had surprisingly good taste," he remarked as he did so.

After saying this, the doors to the chamber suddenly opened. The cat smiled, expecting this. He turned and looked to see a group of servants looking dumbfounded. Their iron collars had all fallen off by now, after all, and they had no idea what to make of it. They looked around inside the chamber…but saw only the ogre's clothes and a cat licking his paws.

The one in the lead was the very servant who had let him in. He actually looked around the room a bit more, and then back to the cat. "…Where is our master?"

"You mean the ogre?"

"Yes. We heard a terrible noise in here. We assumed you had done something to offend him and he was going to destroy you. Then we saw our shackles unlock, and we wondered if you had actually put him in a good enough mood to somehow set us free."

"Was he very tall? Kind of green colored? Could change into any beast he wanted?" the cat innocently asked.

Both the servant and the others with him looked puzzled. "…Yes, of course. You saw him face to face."

"Oh…I ate him," Gaston casually answered, for it was the truth.

The people in the room gaped.

"You…you did what?"

"Not the best meal I ever received, but still quite delicious for a palate like mine," the cat continued as he kept cleaning himself. Again, the truth.

The servants gaped in absolute shock. "But…but…how…how is that possible? Did he not transform into some monstrosity?!"

"Sure he did," the cat answered as he finished. "You heard that roar, didn't you? But…really it only made him a bit harder to eat. That certainly wasn't much of an ogre. No wonder my master sent me to deal with him rather than dirty his hands."

By now, with how casually the cat spoke, and seeing only the clothes of the ogre, the servants had little choice but to start believing him. Yet as they did, that only made them more frightened, for as great and terrible as the ogre was…none of them had ever heard of a mere cat, boots or no boots, who could slay a sorcerer that made chaff of any armed force that rose against him. They were actually starting to tremble now. However, the servant picked up on his implication.

"Your…your master slays ogres?"

"Only the ones that are actually a problem," the cat responded. "For little ones like this, he just lets me handle it. It's not even good sport for him to try and slay ogres like this. I mean," he chuckled as he looked right to the servant…who immediately recoiled in fright, "that only figures, doesn't it? I wouldn't very well serve a master who wasn't far greater than me."

By now, the servants were nearly cringing to the ground. They were firmly of the mind that they had been delivered unexpectedly from one fate only to find one infinitely worse. If this cat could treat an ogre sorcerer as if he was nothing more than a snack, then how great and terrible was his master? All of them looked fearful for their lives.

However, the cat, seeing this, merely stood up fully, put his paws at his sides, and let out a long laugh.

"Now, now, everyone…there's no reason to be the least bit afraid. The very reason I came here is because my master, the Marquis of Carabas, heard of your plight and had pity upon you. He sent me here to slay this ogre, and to break his power over you. It is his intention now to make these lands and this manor his own, and, in fact, he will be coming shortly to do so later this evening. You are all now free to go and do as you will. However, he bade me give instruction that if anyone wishes to remain as his own servant, and pledge their fealty to him, he will gladly restore their former wages under your former king plus a fifty percent increase."

Almost immediately, the fear began to evaporate. The servants started to look up on hearing that.

"Did you say…fifty percent, Monsieur Cat?" they asked, the sound of fear and trembling gradually being replaced by interest and intrigue.

The cat gave a nod. "But of course! However, as it just so happens, he bade me to give one other instruction. He is bringing a noble king and his lovely daughter here to entertain for the night. He desires to show them an excellent time. And so…if those that remain behind are able to clean this manor, make it presentable and lovely to his pleasure, and prepare a feast for his guests before their arrival…he is prepared to give you a one-hundred percent increase in your wages for your troubles, as a token to show how he rewards his faithful servants."

The last bit of fear was gone in an instant as the servants rose. As unusual as this all was, they realized the cat was in earnest. They also realized they had suddenly been freed at no obligation—themselves and their families and whoever was left. If that wasn't enough, this new master that the cat spoke of was giving them a most generous offer and, in truth, they could use it. After all, none of them would dare try to wrest control of the manor from the Marquis if he had such a fearsome pet, and so they would be left out on their own to try and make it to the next kingdom and beg of service from someone else. And even if this new master proved to be a tyrant, he could not be half the tyrant that the ogre had been, who had treated them cruelly and sadistically and threatened them daily with being devoured. In the end, there was only one clear decision.

The servant in the lead bowed his head. "I will pledge my fealty and service to the Marquis of Carabas."

"As will I," said the servant behind him.

"I as well," another added.

"And me."

In no time at all, all of the servants had accepted the cat's offer. He grinned once again, showing off his teeth, which he had made sure to clean of blood by now.

"In that case, let us see who else in the castle wishes to accept the Marquis' offer, and then I will go about directing you all to what must be done."

By the time the royal retinue had made it to the vineyards, Philippe, although he had no idea how this was possible, timidly went ahead and said that the vineyards were his. And, sure enough, an inquiry from the workers there revealed that such was the case. By now, both the princess and the king were delighted. And that only grew when they went ahead to the shepherds pasturing the largest flock they had ever seen in their lives. Despite the fact he was growing progressively more astonished with all of this, Philippe managed to say that this was his as well with more confidence. The king verified it anyway…simply due to being so astonished at this point.

Although the young man couldn't understand how this was possible, it made him ease up more and enjoy the company of the princess again. As for the king, however, he was nearly overwhelmed.

What an impressive young man! His wealth is greater than mine! At first I thought he was merely being humble…but now I know his servant was selling him short all along. I am truly a fool to have had such a nobleman living right next to me and never even bothering to greet him! I'm more than fortunate that he is so young and humble…or it would have been in his power to do me a great deal of harm. I should have been the one trying to curry favor with him.

To think…if he was to marry Adele, and join our properties together…

"My lord, there is a manor in the distance," the driver suddenly called.

The king snapped out of his thoughts, and the princess too looked up. Both of them went to the windows and looked out again. Philippe, once he was sure both weren't looking, did much the same.

On top of a hill, far in the distance, was a magnificent castle…the likes of which none of them had ever seen. It was amazing to behold, even from many miles away. Both the king and princess were awed…but, of course, Philippe was the most awed of all. His eyes looked ready to fall out of his head.

Luckily, he quickly managed to pull himself in, struggling to keep a straight face. The princess looked to him eagerly. "Lord Carabas, is that magnificent palace yours?"

The young man paused for a moment, and then exhaled a bit.

"Yes…I believe it is, my lady…" And then, with a mutter under his breath, he added: "Somehow…"

Everything worked out just as the cat intended. It took no effort at all to get the rest of the servants to stay on and swear their allegiance, loyalty, and service to the Marquis of Carabas. A quick look around the manor showed it would be nothing to keep that pledge. The land here was rich and plentiful, and the ogre had taken the precaution of killing or intimidating anyone who would have demanded tribute from this land. And being a true miser, he had hoarded enough wealth over 20 years to easily pay double the wages of what workers he hadn't killed or devoured for the next century without even cutting into anything that would be earned. With the new servants of the Marquis ready, they went to work.

The exterior came first. The skulls and stakes were readily cleaned up, and the gates opened wide so that whoever came would focus more on the courtyard than the more desolate surroundings. The black banners were cut down and burned. There was no time to make new banners, but, fortunately, the former royal family's standards were present, and the cat noted that they seemed to go well with Philippe's demeanor and personality, and so they were hung up. Flowers were brought from the inner gardens and placed in the boxes, until the castle was made warm and inviting on the outside as well as the inside.

Next came cleaning the ogre's mess. It took half the staff a lot of work and scrubbing, but they managed to clean the ogre's personal chambers and burn all of his possessions as well, for they were too filthy and disgusting for the rubbish heap. Once cleaned enough to deaden the smell, the room was shut and locked. Fortunately, the ogre had preferred to sleep in the highest tower so he could turn into a hawk and hunt down people who tried to escape. The royal bedroom had been untouched for 20 years, and the servants quickly spruced it up as well as two additional suites, one for the king and one for the princess.

The ballroom was rapidly cleaned. It was no trouble at all for the maids, who had been demeaned and abused by the ogre and were eager to be fully clothed and do anything that wasn't designed to arouse his carnal passions. There were some dogs that were owned by the servant staff, and most of the older meal that the ogre had was thrown to them. The cat was pleasantly surprised to discover two more things as the ballroom was quickly cleaned and the dining room, too small for the ogre's tastes, was reopened for the first time in decades and set with fine china and cutlery. One was that he had kept the best cooks in the castle. The ogre had demanded a great deal of food each day, enough to feed a small army, and he had needed to keep the best cook so that the large amount of food could be produced in time, but also had enough flavor to please the ogre's palate. But ogres enjoy a great deal of filth that humans would never touch, and the cook, although 20 years "rusty", soon had the luxury of only having to prepare a much smaller feast, and it smelled heavenly.

The other was that the ogre, for being a brute and an oaf, seemed to have a fondness of music and had kept musicians within his domain to occasionally entertain him. It was one of the few things he left his realm to obtain and fill with new members and fresh talent. Their music would definitely keep the manor inviting and cheerful.

It nearly came down "to the wire", for preparations were still being made when the royal carriage moved through the rustic forest and began to ascend the hill. But everyone worked double time, and all was finally prepared as the coach began to approach the front gates. By the time it passed through, the cat himself, leading a group of freshly-cleaned servants, having rolled out the "red carpet," came up to welcome them. He himself went to the coach door and opened it before the footman could.

What he saw was Philippe, still looking rather handsome and debonair from his own change in clothes, struggling not to pass out as he looked at the magnificent castle, the team of servants, the lovely garden, and the spectacular décor. The king was taken with all of it, and the princess even more so, loving the look of the garden and scarcely restraining herself from running into it herself.

When the young man looked out and saw all of this…when he thought of the fields that were his…smelled the wonderful dinner…and heard the sounds of music being played…he was speechless. He could only look down at the cat and stare at him.

He, in turn, grinned toothily again.

"Welcome home, my young master."

Philippe held his gaze for a few moments longer…the reality fully settling in. As impossible as it seemed…as much as he never believed or dreamed it would happen…the cat had kept his promises. At length, he finally swallowed, and formed a small smile of his own.

"…Thank you, my good servant."

The cat removed his hat and gave a graceful bow. "If it pleases you, sir, shall I escort King Andre out first? I believe you would like the honor of escorting Lady Adele."

The young man looked back into the carriage, and already saw that the princess had looked up and begun to smile at him at the offer. After a moment…he smiled back, as he finally began to settle into the role of "the Marquis of Carabas."

"…I would indeed."

Hours later, everything had gone fantastic. The king and princess were in complete awe of the manor, and received the best "royal treatment" they had ever experienced. Even other high nobles had never entertained them so well. When the meal was finished, the music played, and the Marquis of Carabas escorted the lovely Lady Adele onto the ballroom floor. This time…he never missed a step, and no one there had ever seen a more beautiful couple. As the king looked on at this, the last trace of doubt was forever removed from his mind. There was no question that if the Marquis asked for his daughter's hand in marriage, he would give his consent and blessing.

As the night grew late, at last the king and princess began to retire to their rooms. Other rooms were provided for the riders and staff with them, and most of the servants began to turn in for the night. The music ceased, and the night staff went about and began to dim all of the lights in the palace that had been lit for the festivities.

As that happened, and the castle grew still, there remained a lovely balcony on the upper floor of the castle. Beautiful glass doors, crystal clear and pure, separated the inside from it. And as the sun continued to lower, the night sky filled with a thousand stars. They seemed to generate so much light that one could see the single person outside watching them…a cat wearing a pair of boots, a belt, and a hat with a plume. He had his paws folded behind him, and he watched the stars slowly come out.

Finally, his ears twitched when he heard the door behind him open. He didn't turn, but out into the night came the Marquis of Carabas, who had been simply Philippe, the youngest son of a miller, less than three days ago. Once he was outside, he paused for a moment, looking at that cat…no longer seeming like a cat at all or even a cat in noble regalia…but something infinitely more. While the Marquis may have been a peasant made up to become a noble, Gaston was something fantastic that had been made up to look like a ratcatcher.

He turned and shut the doors behind him, and then looked up at him.

"…Just one question, and the same one as always," he said after a moment. "How?"

The cat smiled a bit and snickered, before turning to face the Marquis.

"Everything I told you. Making a good appearance and savoir faire. That was almost all of it. The rest was simply seizing on the right opportunities, and just a small dash of luck thrown in for good measure."

The Marquis gave a sigh. He looked up and around himself, at the grand palace and, beyond it, all of the land that was now his. He finally looked back down at the cat. "…It's all so big…too big for me."

"You'll 'grow into it,'" the cat stated with perfect certainty. "Faster than you think. The first king in the history of man was born a peasant too, remember."

The Marquis said nothing in response, but gave a smile to the cat. He, in turn, smiled back. But, after a moment, he exhaled, and reached up to remove his hat.

"And now…I believe this is where we say goodbye, young master."

The smile faded. "…Goodbye?"

"My master plan is complete," Gaston answered as he set the hat carefully down in front of him, and went to the belt next. "I've taken you pretty far. I believe you can handle the rest yourself. Just don't become a complete 'nobleman.' Keeping your more 'peasant' qualities will serve you well."

The Marquis continued to look anxious. "You're leaving? But…"

The cat smiled as he finished pulling off his belt and setting it down. "Don't tell me you still require me as a ratcatcher, do you? You have a variety of cats to choose from for that now."

The young man shook his head. "That's not what I mean at all. I'm not worried about losing a ratcatcher or a servant…I'm worried about losing a friend."

The cat had begun to reach for his boots…but then paused. He smiled a bit wider and, for the first time since the Marquis could recall, blinked deliberately, as if clearing his eyes.

"I can give you whatever you want now. Just fish and cream, if you like," the Marquis added. "I can even put you in charge of my affairs. Goodness knows you're more clever than I'll ever be…"

The cat straightened himself, but sighed and shook his head.

"Oh…I'm sorry, young master…but I'm afraid that's just not who I am. I'm certain there are many cats out in the world who would think such a position would be heaven…but I doubt they would have as much cleverness as I. Such a thing doesn't come from lying idle. I told you how little cats need to be happy, and the same holds true now. Perhaps one day I'll be happy to take you up on that offer, when I'm more advanced in years. But for now…"

He grinned again.

"I'm afraid I've gone behind your back for so long I have a touch of 'wildness' in my spirit, and I am eager to see how far I can go in the world myself."

The Marquis stared back at him.

"In that case, answer me this question. And please…no riddles or games or wordplay. Why did you do it? Why did you go this far to help me?"

The cat paused for a moment. After that, smiling even more widely, he walked up to the young man, and reached out to put a paw on his hand.

"Because when you were friendless, destitute, and penniless, without a means to keep warm or feed yourself, you spent the last of your money on giving an animal a gift when his two older brothers and his father would have simply kicked him aside for making such a request. That's not the sign of an owner or a master, my dear Marquis. That's something only a friend would do. And cumbersome, annoying, worrisome, slovenly, and dirty as all of you humans are, from the one on the ash heap to the one with a crown on his head…"

He gave a shrug.

"…I was glad to have you as one."

The Marquis continued to look down to the cat, touched by what he had just heard. He really didn't know what to say…but perhaps he didn't have to say anything. The cat continued to smile a bit longer, but finally exhaled. Looking back down at his feet, he slipped out of the boots, one after another, and pushed them back to join the other clothes. That done, he swept himself over and, for the first time in a month, resumed being four legged. At this point, the cat looked like just that, nothing more than a housecat…a "ratcatcher," as it were.

Yet he had barely stood there a moment, when the Marquis lowered and stroked his fur with a soft smile on his face…and just the hint of a tear in his eye. Gaston didn't resist. He simply closed his eyes and purred in response.

The Marquis wasn't sure how long he crouched there, petting the cat. It might have been only a minute. It might have been an hour. All he knew was that he didn't want to stop, for he feared the moment he did…the cat would leave and he would never see him again. And yet, in spite of that, after whatever length of time it was…something inside him knew "it was time." And almost subconsciously, he stopped petting.

The moment he did, Gaston broke from him, ran to the railing, and leapt off the edge into the night…and the Marquis was left alone on the balcony, crouched, nearly kneeling, before the hat, the belt, and the boots.

Three months later, the realm was better than before.

The Marquis took his faithful servant's advice and went out into the field every day himself…not in a royal carriage dressed in finery, but clad more simply and on a horse. He knew some things about farming from his time in his old village, but he continued to learn more, and he paid attention to his laborers. They too were soon happy, for they had a master who, unknown to them, knew what it was like to be poor and without means. His care for them led to greater production of the land, and next year, an even better harvest was expected.

However, much of the Marquis' attention was focused on preparing another grand event. Two months after the cat left him for the final time, he had finally embraced the identity of the Marquis of Carabas and gained enough confidence to formally request Princess Adele's hand in marriage. In that time, the princess had visited him almost every other day, spending almost all of her time in his gardens or manor, and the two had gone on many rides themselves through their two counties. The king immediately acquiesced, but the Marquis, intent on making everything perfect, devoted an entire month to the wedding preparations.

The castle was twice as magnificent on the day of the nuptials, and everyone from both lands was invited to come. All of them agreed they had never seen a more beautiful couple, and both lands rejoiced…the Marquis' that they were now part of the royal dynasty, and the princess' that there was now an heir to the throne. Having completed the marriage at the grand manor, they departed for the castle in King Andre's land, where the Marquis would be crowned as the prince and the two lands would be united.

The people began to return home as well after that, having already enjoyed the wedding. The Marquis' staff, which had increased, began to go about cleaning everything up after the month of preparation. It was a great undertaking, and even when the people left, they were still hard at work trying to gather everything together.

In the midst of them, however, toward the outskirts…walked a miserable-looking girl of only fifteen years of age. A worn black cloth had been tied over her head…a sign of mourning, for her family had been stricken by disease and left her alone in the world not too long ago. Her only living was to gather firewood for other people living in the villages in the area, but she lacked the strength or means of defending herself with which to cut her own in the forest. After all, alone in the forest, day after day, was practically begging a highwayman to come to her. She gained most of her wood from events like this, and was gathering up every wooden stake or scrap log that she could find, and was loading them into a sling to carry behind her back.

Her load grew heavy after a while, however, and, with a heavy exhale, she sat down on an overturned barrel and let it rest. She slowly caught her breath for a moment.

As she there, at length, the grass nearby began to shift. She looked up and saw something emerging from it…a black and white cat. The cat made straight for her, and soon reached her side. After that, it looked expectantly up at her lap, and then, without warning, jumped up onto it and curled up.

She was taken aback, but only for a moment. Soon, she gave a soft smile to the cat. It was clean and neat for being a stray, and was a handsome creature. She soon reached out and began to stroke it. In return, it soon started to purr in response. She did so for a few minutes, already feeling a bit better just from the action. Yet after a while, she exhaled and removed her hand, looking up and out to the horizon again. She still had too many problems to have a passing cat alleviate them all from such a simple gesture.

The cat, however, sat up when this happened, and looked intently at her.

"Young lady," he addressed her. "Have you any money?"

The girl, on hearing this, looked down at the cat and regarded him with puzzlement. "Excuse me?"

"I only ask because, if you'll be so kind as to purchase me a lovely cape, I can make a fortune for you…"

The End