Author's Note: Here is where I will be posting all the side stories that show off various aspects of the backstories of our protagonists, to start with a defining moment of the life of James "Firecat."
Monster Party Side Story: à mal rat, bon chat
Eleven year old James Patte came running when he heard the door to his home opening with his usual energy, not even the traditional gust of cold (at least as he thought of such things) Richemulotian winter deterred him.
What was unusual was who came through, it was not his mother or father, nor was it one of their neighbors, all of whose faces he was familiar with (granted James had never been the best at fixing face to name). Despite all of that, he had no trouble at all recognizing who had just entered his home...
There was nothing truly elaborate about the way she dressed, though her outfit seemed to be made of the finest material imaginable. The only concession to her wealth and power as other nations recognized such things was an emerald stone worn about her neck which wonderfully matched the color of her eyes.
James drank in the sight of this woman his jaw going slack as he realized that yes his eyes were not playing tricks on him, Jacqueline Renier, La Grande Dame herself was standing right in front of him.
He broke into the best bow he could, but his exuberance overwhelmed both his good sense and excellent sense of balance. Before he knew it, James had bowed so deeply that he fell face first to the floor.
The ruler of Richemulot laughed deeply but not cruelly at the youngster's misfortune.
"So this is the miniscule mouser I have traveled to see himself? It seems he has not grown into his paws quite yet." Jacqueline inquired raising an eyebrow slightly.
Martha and Charles Patte followed their liege into the home and shut the door behind them.
"Yes, do forgive my son his follies, we had expected a summons from one of your messengers much like you gave me when I first arrived. None of us, least of all James, considered the possibility that you would come to us in person instead!" Martha explained clearly feeling only slight less surprised than her son was.
Jacqueline placed a comforting hand on the copper haired woman's shoulder.
"Do not trouble yourself over much. It is important for me to remind myself that there is more to Richemulot than Pont-a-Museau every so often, and this matter gave me a perfect excuse for such a journey." She offered comfortingly.
As James scrambled awkwardly to his feet Charles and Martha set about gathering chairs around the most respectable table in the home, James' father holding one out for Jacqueline and gently scooting it in once she graced it with her presence.
James prepared to slink from the room before he brought any further shame upon himself, his parents, and his family in general as was certain to happen if he remained for long in Jacqueline's presence.
La Grande Dame was having none of it though.
"Why so hasty to depart my miniscule mouser? Did you not hear your mother say that you alone are the reason for my arrival?" She coaxed.
James hesitantly took a chair of his own at the opposite side of the table from Jacqueline slinking into his seat as if he might yet find a way to vanish completely if only he wanted it ferociously enough.
He could not bear to think that he had done something which would force Jacqueline Renier herself to come all the way out to the small village of Bon Crêpe!
"Now then, as I am sure you all I know, under my rule I have striven to give carte blanche to all the people of the mists who wish to emigrate to Richemulot. Let elves feel free to revel in our forests, dwarfs toil beneath our surface, halflings seek hidey holes within our cities, one and all are welcome. Are we so gauche to believe that one intelligent being is superior to another simply because of the shape of its ears, thickness of its beard or its statue? Please!
This ruling applies not just to traditional forms of demi-humanity but also, some of the more, exotic flavors. Which brings us to the subject of you, and your mother... werecats." She drew the word far longer than it needed to be and James felt a lump grow in his throat.
"An elf and a dwarf or halfling are easy enough to spot on sight. But lycanthropes are another matter entirely. Some might seek to hide their abilities or nature from those that surround them. You two wisely have not. After all, how can a ruler make just decisions if the truth his hidden from them?
My generosity is so great that it extends to you as well, however what you must understand my miniscule mouser is that if you repay my benevolence with treachery, you will reap the wrath of all of the entire Renier family and all of Richemulot." She announced most decisively.
"I wouldn't dream of it!" James pipped up, now struggling to sit up as straight as he could eager to earn Jacqueline's approval.
"Ahh the utter untempered certainties of youth, he reminds my own Jacques." She murmured her face softening for just a moment, before becoming stern if not certainly not hostile once again.
"Just as I expect the citizens of my realm of great material wealth to provide more in the way of taxes for good of the nation, I expect those with exception physical talents to contribute exceptionally to the good of Richemulot.
For a man of a strong back and sound tactical mind he will lead his fellow villagers in weapon drills, for one of mystical learning, they shall not simply pursue power for its own ends. Likewise, clerics and priests must be ready to heal the sick and not pester people overmuch lest they focus on the world to come to the exclusion of this one.
For your mother, I understand she has helped preserve much precious knowledge, and save the lives of many children by exterminating the rats that used to invest this village and its library in particular. In this way she has been the perfect example for all who might immigrant to Richemulot, she has worked tirelessly while not being so foolish as to think she could conceal her secrets from the Renier family.
In your case my miniscule mouser, do you know how you must repay Richemulot for kindness it has shown you?" She asked almost tenderly.
James had no idea what the answer was, but all the same he went so far as to actually stand on his seat to try and bring his eyes level with Jacqueline's.
"I don't know, but I'll do whatever I can! The folks of this village are so nice to us, they even cut a cat-flap in our door for me and mom to use!" He gushed.
Jacqueline chuckled once more, but as seemed her nature joy soon faded from her features.
"If you do not know your place, then as is my right I shall assign you one.
What I tell you now is for the ears of your three only, should I find that you have told a single soul, I will have you all banished, to Falkovnia." She decreed.
The weight of that threat (if Vlad Drakov saw fit to make slaves of elves what would do to werecats did not bear thinking upon) hung heavy upon the room and was able to still even James' frequently flapping lips.
"Darkness and evil breads in the sewers of Pont-a-Museau. Wererats cavort in numbers that might make one wonder if they don't outnumber the true humans. I would welcome even such creatures, but they flout my rule at every turn, spreading filth, disease, and death throughout the city.
I can not abide my subjects suffering under their pestilent paws any more than under the Hawk's talons. Yet, even my hands are all but hopelessly tied, for how can you fight a foe who has the numbers of an army yet can hide as swiftly as a thief?
The Renier family has so far been spared the personal ravages of the beasts, but I doubt it is pure luck which has protected us. Rather the wererats are cunning enough to know that should strike even one of my distant cousins... I would have no choice but to strike back, even if all of Pont-a-Museau must be put to the torch to drive them from their hidden strongholds.
Such a conflict would be disastrous for Richemulot's occupants both wererat and otherwise, for I am certain in our weakened state the foe to the north would swoop down upon us once again. So be it, family is sacrosanct, there is nothing, NOTHING more important in this world than protecting one's family." James found himself nodding along in silent agreement with Jacqueline's impassioned words.
Though the Patte family consisted of only himself and his parents while the Renier family tree was sprawled like the cities of Richemulot themselves, love for one's kin united peasant and noble alike.
"For the moment I have no choice but to bide my time, and await the day I fear will arrive all too soon when the wererats do not fear me any longer. If that day comes, I will expect you my miniscule mouser to be the first into the sewers of Pont-a-Museau." Jacqueline announced.
"Me?" James gasped feeling himself threatened to be crushed under the weight La Grande Dame was placing on his shoulders.
He took a deep breath, curled his right hand into a fist and then with his left threw up a salute not even Vlad Drakov could have found fault with.
"If you wish it, I would journey there and plunge into the darkness this very day!" He promised Jacqueline.
Once more James' sheer exuberance seemed to bring the ruler of Richemulot a little respite from the dreadfully serious matters they were discussing.
"Too bold by half and half again! No single cat, even a single werecat has a chance to purging those sewers. All the same, there will be times when we have a chance to strike back against the beasts.
Boldness it seems is not limited to lycanthropes of the feline persuasion. Every so often there are stories of solitary werecreatures stalking the streets of the capital. Those singular wererats, above ground, without support of a full warren of comrades, they must be instructed on how unwise it is to earn the ire of Jacqueline Renier!" She did not go so far as to bang her hands on the table as more theatrical ruler might have, she did not need to.
"Such matters are to be attended to later though, a proper ruler must think in terms of decades and generations not months and years. Today, all I require from you is quite simple, because of your near unique nature, an oath of loyalty to some minor official is not enough.
Just like your mother before you, my miniscule mouser, you must avow your loyalty to me in person." She informed him.
James' head swam, he sunk back into his seat for fear that he might tumble from it were he not careful. He was unsure what words she might want to hear from him, if the normal oath of loyalty alone would do or if she wanted something more personal. So he simply recalled his parents advice and when in doubt followed his heart.
"Let me journey to the other side of the Core or the islands beyond, let my shape be that of man or beast, my loyalty to you Jacqueline Renier shall not change. Let not rumor, secret, or scandal sway my soul. I shall hide no knowledge from you and offer you my utmost service for the glory of Richemulot!" James promised momentarily wondering how he had gotten through all that without half swallowing his tongue or blushing as red as his hair in the process.
"A queen could not have asked more from her most favored knight." Jacqueline responded graciously and then snapped her fingers.
A courtier, attendant, or some other brand of servant entered into the Patte household a large well crafted bowl covered by a piece of cloth in his hands.
"Let me show you that the Renier family does not take such a solemnly sworn oath lightly with an offering of my own. I am given to understand from my past conversations with Martha, werecreatures find these winter months harsher than any human, for they can not simply store up grain or cooked meat in preparation for them.
With that in mind, allow me to lighten this particular burden somewhat..." As Jacqueline spoke the servant pulled off the cloth with an impeccable flourish.
Not that its contents came as much of a surprise of course, if the sounds alone hadn't already given it away then the smell would have.
It was filled to the brim with hissing squabbling rats whose tails had one and all been tied together into a great twisted knot causing each one's efforts to escape to undo the work of his fellows.
"Meat that could not possibly be any fresher. Eat heartily my miniscule mouser, for it is my wish that with passage of time you shall become a truly resplendent ratter." La Grande Dame of Richemulot commanded.
James had no intention of disappointing her.
He reached into the bowl headless of the hissing snarling vermin, his left hand's fingernails transforming into sharp pointed claws with which to cut the tail from a rat's body allowing him to separate it from the others.
"Sic Semper Rattus!" He promised Jacqueline and then set about consuming the pest.
(Scene Break)
Jacqueline Renier closed the door to the Patte residence behind her, a look of immense satisfaction glinting in her eyes. Even if serendipity had started her down this path her brilliant planning had kept the course from wavering.
Martha Patte had wandered into her domain quite shortly after her grandfather's death (and her subsequent ascension to the head of the Renier family and rule of Richemulot) and originally Jacqueline had intended to invite her to Chateau Delanuit ostensibly for the reason of swearing fealty, then reveal herself as a wererat and rip Martha limb from limb with the aid of her family.
Once they'd been face to face however Jacqueline discovered that unlike the actual animals they changed into werehousecats did not seem to immediately realize that La Grande Dame was something to be feared and shied away from. If anything, her policy of carte blanche had left Martha feeling more indebted and loyal to her than most of Richemulot's fully human immigrants!
That, that had opened up some very interesting possibilities.
So rather than give the order to attack Jacqueline had done the opposite, making it it clear to all the wererats of Richemulot that the Patte woman and her family were going to be under her personal protection and not to be trifled with. She'd even gone so far as to insist that they leave this particular village alone, not that a small hamlet of only a hundred or was a promising hunting ground for wererats in the first place. The subsequent lack of rodent related activity had made the villagers feel indebted enough to Martha that they openly accepted her, just as their ruler had silently wanted them to.
Then, exactly as Jacqueline had hoped Martha had taken a virile enough local man for her mate and produced a kitten. Jacqueline would have preferred additional spares, but a girl couldn't quite have everything she wanted.
So now that young werecat was being raised with a head full of stories about the grandeur of Richemulot, the glory of the Renier family, and her own personal splendor in particular.
It was all leading up to the kitten's inevitable fate of providing Jacqueline with something every ruler regardless of gender desired, their own personal executioner.
Yes, Richemulot was a country run by wererats for wererats, and nothing (certainly not one foolish werecat) was going to change that. But, it was in the nature of wererats to be treacherous (she only needed to reflect upon how at first her family had been all smiles and congratulations when she'd disposed of her ill-tempered and ever disparaging grandfather Claude but then only too quickly they had begun trying to unseat her in turn) and if she wished to establish a true Renier dynasty with power passing from mother to son rather than just bouncing back and forth between whoever had just succeeded in the most recent round of backstabbery, steps would have to be taken.
Ironically while she ruled for her fellow wererats, the very humans whose children her kinfolk snatched from their cradles in the night offered her much more loyalty and respect than the rodent themed lycanthropes who her family had made Richemulot a paradise for. The wererats of Richemulot seemed (especially the other members of her own family) to give her her naught but grudging obedience and backbiting (or at least what they imagined to be backbiting, Jacqueline had more spies and counter spies employed in dealing with her own family than she had keeping an eye on Falkovnia).
Being Grand Dame of Richemulot meant Jacqueline faced a careful balancing act between keeping her wererat subjects fed, her human subjects happy, and everyone the right mix of too loyal or too frightened to think about planting a silver dagger in her back.
That was where the young James Patte came in, someone with physical prowess comparable to (perhaps even surpassing) a wererat, and yet gave her the same empty headed devotion as she got from most of her other human subjects. If she couldn't find a way to make that combination work in her favor then she didn't deserve to rule Richemulot!
Given a few more years he should make a splendid instrument for reminding the rest of the Renier clan of why she was top rat.
Yes, it wouldn't be enough for her just to kill the ones who angered her anymore, no they'd have to be made examples of, their death's excruciating in the extreme!
First she would see to it that they were cut off from their fellow wererats, or even any normal rats among whom they might try to hide camouflage themselves and escape. It would not need to be for long, only half an hour at most.
Yes, how sweet it would be to know that they would be given a taste of her truest terror, before any of them were allowed to perish they must know just how horrific a fate it was to be alone!
Then, then let the dreadful mewing of the werecat fill their ears, and their minds be gripped by the terrible knowledge that a hunter had come forth who could match them shape for shape. Let her vengeance come with jaws that bite and claws that catch!
Let the fool Drakov keep his bizarre fetish for pointy sticks, death by cat, now there was a form of execution that would make even her unruly relatives sit up and take notice!
Jacqueline began to ascend up the stairs that had already been laid out for her by another servant and entered into her private carriage.
The door was closed behind her, leaving her in necessary but hated solitude.
Much as it pained her, it simply wouldn't have done to brought any of her family with her on the trip. It would have tipped her hand, (though she suspected her twin Louise doubtlessly had already realized by now why Jacqueline cared so much about a single family of werecats, still it would not do to openly confirm such theories so blatantly) and neither could she sit up front with her human carriage driver. Le Grande Dame always had to maintain a certain air of majesty about herself after all, and her current driver while competent had done nothing so exemplary as to earn the honor of her company.
She had managed to make the entire journey here alone and yet not let it unnerve her to the point that it affected her performance before the Patte family, no she would just have to withstand the trip back as best she could.
At least she had the knowledge of her success to grant her some comfort.
"Sic Semper Fidus Rattus!" She declared proudly.
The statement brought her such wicked glee that for a little while she did not terribly mind the lack of company.
FN: So, let's talk about language. To start with the title of sub story is French (or at least my best approximation of French which will apply to just about everything I say about languages other than English in these notes) for "To an evil rat, a good cat." It's a play on a French phrase "à bon chat, bon rat" translating to "To a good cat, a good rat." that is usually used to describe a meeting of two equals (two very skilled duelists for example). Fittingly given the warping of the phrase in this side story, La Grande Dame, and her peasant servant are anything but equals.
It also neatly sums Jacqueline's plans for James in one sentence, an evil rat will have the service of a good cat.
The name of James' village is quite obviously French for "Good Crepe", a "joke" that probably only makes sense to me.
Thirdly, James' family name has nothing to do with cooking, it's actually French for "Paw". Also during James' oath of loyalty it is worth pointing out that "rumor" "secret" and "scandal" are the terms used in Richemulot for copper, silver, and gold pieces respectfully, so it's actually a bit of clever word play where he is saying that neither deformation of her character nor bribery will make him betray her.
If you don't get Jacqueline's linguistic jujitsu at the end there its pretty simple. James' traditional motto as we've seen in the past is "Sic Semper Rattus" or "Thus Always to Rats". When he says it, the "Thus" typically has an implicit meaning of "Death".
Jacqueline's version translates as "Thus Always Loyal to Rats." By inserting that one word she's turning it from a battle cry against rodents to a reflection of how James has pledged his devotion to the biggest most powerful (I'd say most evil but after reading Scholar of Decay Louise Renier seems to have her twin sister beat on that front or at is more conventionally cackling bitch sort of evil (granted since Jacqueline is in power right now she doesn't have to spend time figuring out evil schemes to seize what she has just how to keep it (on second thought near the end of the novel Louise reflects on how she once drowned a puppy as a young girl thereby giving her an unquestionable lead in the "who is more evil" race))) wererat in the entire domain, and he doesn't have a single clue.
I can't say with perfect certainty to how in character Jacqueline is being here but I think it's quite plausible. As mentioned previously, I've read Scholar of Decay which seems to be the biggest source of information in it much more sparse stuff in the box sets or even the Gazetteer on Richemulot (it's full of great stuff on Richemulot as a nation but unsurprisingly being written in universe goes more into Jacqueline's history than her psychology).
To touch on the stuff I was trying to reflect, despite her own chaotic nature, Jacqueline has a real love for control (early on in the book she chastises her son for giving into his inner rat and biting his tutor and talks about how he must not be like his father who lacked control) and if she wanted control of James, oh but does she have it.
She's willing to make reasonable trades (lets a scholar poke around in abandoned buildings in exchange for telling her what he finds, is willing to let said scholar rescue his brother from her cousins who were going to drown/eat him so long as he doesn't hurt them in the process) and bide her time.
It's pretty clear that given her monophobia (fear of being alone) she'd prefer to be a iron hand in a velvet glove style ruler (she'd rather be loved than feared, really really rather be loved), and it seems to be working for the most part.
I don't know if any other source portrays her as being audacious enough to admit to the wererat problem in Richemulot but in turn effectively suggest the Darklord of the domain is some evil head wererat down in the sewers, but given her force of personality, conniving mind, and popularity among the lower classes there's probably no reason that she couldn't pull it off to villagers who have only been to the capital once or twice in their lives.
In short, like many people of the "evil" alignment in D&D Jacqueline can be perfectly pleasant and charming company, so long as she is getting her way. Once she isn't... that's when she'll concoct elaborate revenge schemes that involve having you hunted through the city, mauled three quarters of the way to death and then eaten alive.
Also if setting up complicated plans to try and keep her son in power once she's dead (and thus won't personally benefit regardless of if he succeeds or not) seems overly maternal/selfless, just in keep in mind she's also doing it to spite Louise/all the other family members who figure her son Jacques won't last a week once his mother departs.
Anyway, to close this section on one last note about language, given that James' family name, and Jacqueline's plans to use him to dispose of wererats who earn her ire without him realizing the truth of the mater, I guess say makes him quite the Werecatspaw!
No need to bring out hooks and rotten produce ladies and gentlemen I'll see myself out.