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Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant & Trackula


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Chapter IV

Revels End

Lion-O could smell the drink in the air, thick and heady, and laced with nip at that. Typical for such festivities as they ran their course, he had heard.

But there was a tension in the air now. A danger, as the games had truly ended, and the casual revelers had made their way to either private parties to debauch further, or collapsed on floors or beds somewhere. The stalls being packed away gave reign to the dedicated drunks drifting and clumping, their minds bleary and their blood up from the games.

These people had lost a hero, and as such needed to vent their grief. The games were a fine distraction, but Panthro and Grune both had been icons of the lower classes for having risen to high so swiftly. Celebration done, the pain of loss returned, augmented by overindulgence.

It was simply poor luck that the only outlet for those feelings was a wretched pair of Lizards in the stocks.

Lion-O eyed the pair, hissing and spitting from being struck with food and bottles from the intoxicated cats. The same pair from earlier, the fearful and the defiant ones.

He really should move on; he was not easy with the idea of Kit out on her own with this feeling in the air.

And he was no fan of Lizards in general, certainly never met any that weren't prisoners or slaves. These two were rather wretched examples of the species — gangly, long limbs, knobby digits, distended paunches, loose thin skin sagging throughout, and massive swollen eyes popping forth from either side of their skulls.

Far from the most comely of the Sky Cat's creations, the poor lighting did not help their case.

But even so, this show of obscene bullying had to stop. That his brother, and father, would not spare a second thought to ignoring it and moving on, he discovered mattered to him little.

Walking past the growing mob of maybe a hundred young and middle-aged cats of various low breeds, he considered how to handle this. There he was surprised to see no Ferrali — no offense to Kit, but her breed he would have pegged as the first to jump at something lower on Thundera's social stairway.

Oh, and now he was reaching the stocks with no plan. Maybe that honeyed milk had something else in it, he wondered?

Something rotten hit one of the Lizards square in the nose, bursting open and drenching the creature in foul pulp. The animal hissed and struggled vainly against restraints that kept it even from trying to wipe away the crud.

"Enough!" Lion-O yelled. That would do for an opening, he decided.

"Enough!" he shouted again, moving between the stock and the crowd, hands raised. They murmured to themselves; this was not expected. Good, that was his advantage.

"People of Thundera, these Lizards do not deserve this!" he said. The crowd did react to that.

"He's right! They deserve to die!"

"Yes, for Panthro!"

"Rip out the eyes!"

"Cut off their heads!"

That… was not what he had meant. And had they always had torches?

"That is not what I mean! As your Prince, I command you-"

SPLAT

A stinking cabbage exploded as it hit his chest.

"Better get your brother to get you another bath, cub!" someone called from the crowd. And then they were laughing, and advancing.

He was their Prince, they couldn't! Oh, but they were drunk and up on the nip, weren't they? And he had left the palace with only a ceremonial knife that he had never gotten back from Kit.

Apparently, he had failed to properly credit how stupid his race could be.

"Oh whiskers," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the Lizards. How was he going to do this now?

XXX

Wilykit was wishing she could go faster, but Prince Tygra seemed set on a leisurely pace, and losing him was not the goal. And he seemed too pleased with himself in general; should have diluted the wine earlier. The Tiger Prince had never been one to hold his wine well.

Then again, she had never seen her prince drunk, simply because he tended to avoid alcohol unless necessary, like the King seemed to.

Her own fondness for candyfruit cider straight was well in hand. After all, unlike some people, she had to be ready to clean up other people's messes at any given moment.

"Don't be so nervous, Kit. The more I think on it, my little brother may benefit from a tumble in the straw. Maybe this Cheetah could use those fine legs to kick that tech nonsense right out of his head," the Prince chuckled at his own lousy wit. Yeah, drink did not improve this one.

"Unless she robs him," Kit pressed. Just now, the prospect of a bastard litter of nieces and nephews might amuse him more than motivate.

"Yeah, that would happen to him. Sometimes I think being born was that cat's one and only piece of good luck," Tygra admitted.

Sky Cat's claws, she hated having to deal with tipsy high-ranking cats.

"Say, Kit? What does having a tail feel like? Is it like an arm without a hand or a leg without a foot?" the Tiger asked.

"Prince Tygra, can we focus on finding your brother and the Cheetah?" she asked.

"What's this Cheetah look like. You said she showed off legs, but they all do that. Even the men," he commented, looking around now.

Well, that was a fair question, she supposed.

"She has red eyes, and red fur markings around them. Though that might be make up," she grumbled. Tygra stopped.

"Red around her eyes?" he asked her. Did he just sober up some?

"Yes, and a long-"

"Oh, brother. Literally. Come on, let's find those two," the Prince said, striding past her.

"Huh?" Kit asked, tail twitching.

XXX

Jagga was right, even in Thundera, a Guardian of the crown must be ready to serve. Sprinting from the shadows toward the front line of the mob, Cheetara held her staff at the ready. This was where training paid off, when you needed to do something fast and within a fairly small threshold.

Such as tripping the entire first row of a mob with a blurring run by without breaking their bones.

"Hey," she said to Prince Lion-O, stopping beside him as still more addled cats tripped over their downed comrades.

"Er, thanks. For the back up," he managed. So easily flustered; he reminded her of his brother in the old days.

"Lizard lovers!" some cat shouted.

"Oh, come on," Cheetara muttered, glancing back to the mob picking itself up. Was this some dog-brained scheme disguised as a riot, because these Cats were being stunningly stupid.

"Are they serious?" Cheetara asked no one. Tilting her head, she watched the mob threaten the Crown Prince. Not respecting Lion-O was one thing — sadly, it was a bit expected, with how he was and how Cats are.

She recalled with lingering embarrassment how cocky and full of herself she had been before her time with the Clerics. Every animal had its chief sin, passed down from Mumm-Ra's Curse, and most scholars of Thundera had agreed on pride being the Sin of Cats.

But enough pondering just how much nip they had taken to think committing a capital crime was good idea. Time to do her duty, she decided stepping forward and evaluating her options.

Wood creaked to her right, and a whip cracked three times rapidly across the path of the still standing mob.

The sound of the lash certainly brought them all up short, even as Cheetara's targets picked themselves up. And there he was, Tygra, standing atop one of the stocks, flexing idly, inspecting his whip as he looked down on the crowd like spotted easy prey.

"Okay, I don't know what's going on, exactly. But in addition to a Prince, that's my brother you're threatening.

"So show your tails, strays! Or I'll have the lot of you roped in for treason!" Tygra commanded, flexing his whip tight.

That got through to them. Rumbling, they started to drift off.

Tygra stepped down, barely missing the Lizard's snout, much to its agitation. He gave her a smile. Well, that had solved the problem, she had to admit.

"…Thanks," Prince Lion-O said.

"Eh, no one smacks you around but me. So, you're the Cheetah whose got Kit's hairs on end?" Tygra said, ignoring his brother he walked up to her. She raised an eyebrow. So, he still wanted to play that they didn't know each other?

Well, it had been her idea, back then. Though now she doubted the Clerics had ever been unaware of her sneaking out with the Tiger Prince.

XXX

Lion-O watched Cheetara talk to his brother, and wasn't that just a perfect cap to this evening? She'd probably be hanging on his words and attention in moments. Just like in most things Cats prized, his brother just had that talent he himself lacked. Like the bit in the arena…

Well, no point dwelling on it, he supposed? Not wanting to watch, he looked to the Lizards that had started this fiasco. Panthro had talked to him about how battle can affect your perception; it couldn't have been five minutes, but it felt like a more significant stretch since he intervened.

"So, alright?" he asked, rather than stare. The higher pitched one babbled thanks while the other, the obstinate one, just stared at him. Or glared? Their strange faces made him unsure how to read expressions on them.

"Hey, not bad there," Cheetara said. Lion-O glanced over as she walked up beside him.

"Yeah, thanks for the back up. You seem to be making a habit of that," He said. Turning, he tried to be nonchalant, getting a look at Tygra. His brother seemed uninterested, inspecting his whip as was his habit after any action with it. That was solid Panthro, there — know the state of your gear as much of yourself.

"Not many would face down a mob without weapons, especially for prisoners. May I ask why?" the Cheetah said.

"They were going to kill them. It wasn't right. No mysterious motivation there. Though to be honest, I forgot I was unarmed at the time," Lion-O shrugged.

"You are an interesting kind of Cat, Prince Lion-O," she smiled. At him, not his still nearby brother.

And then Kit was there.

"My Prince! Why do you smell like rotten cabbage?" the young Feralli said, wrinkling up her nose. Stepping back from Cheetara — when had she gotten so close? — he brushed at his blue tunic with the back of his hand.

"Uh, there was a mob-"

"I know! And I am certain your father does too," Wilykit groaned. She pointed, and Lion-O followed her claw. Sure enough, here came his father, with Grune and half a dozen guards. And he was not pleased.

"Oh whiskers," Lion-O muttered. Kit held a white kerchief out to him that smelled of some kind of spice.

"For the smell," she said. Patting it on the affected area, he frowned a bit at the slave.

"You are not a seer, you could not have known I would get pelted with rotten vegetables," Lion-O protested.

"I just try to be prepared for anything," she answered, falling into place at his side as he handed the kerchief back.

"What happened?" King Claudus demanded.

"Looks like your boys still had some hot blood to work out before calling it a night," Grune observed.

"Father, some of the peasants got drunk and tried to attack Lion-O. She and I ran them off. I am looking out for my brother," Tygra said. He was leaning against a stock, heedless of the discomforted Lizard locked in it. Claudus glanced to his adoptive son, bit his eyes lingered on Cheetara.

"Even small riots don't start with no reason," Claudus said. Lion-O made a choice, stepping forward.

"They were going to kill these Lizards," the Prince said. Tygra ran his hand over his face, muttering something under his breath.

"…And?" Claudus asked. Lion-O frowned.

"They were sentenced to the stocks, not an execution." Claudus looked over the two captives.

"As I recall, these would-be bandits were caught raiding supply lines to Thundera. You would raise claws to your fellow Cats for these?" Claudus demanded.

"He didn't! The two of us did all the fighting," Tygra objected.

'Gee, thanks Tygra, make me look like a coward too,' Lion-O thought. Claudus also looked annoyed with his other son.

His father was going to be dismissive and disappointed. Again. Because why not? It was just Lion-O once again not only failing bit making trouble where there shouldn't have been. Stern words and silence then moving on because what else was there?

He had been here so many times in so many ways. Lion-O looked to the Lizards and two stray cats who may or may not have been part of that mob lingering in the shadows.

"They were sentenced to the stocks, not execution! Do you need more reason than-" Lion-O faltered. He saw the looks of shock on the faces of Tygra and Grune, but his father's face was unreadable. "Than that, father." He finished, eyes downcast.

"Thundera isn't a mob, it's a nation ruled by laws. These Lizards are bandits, and were sentenced as bandits." Cold sweat prickled Lion-o's brow. He just couldn't stop talking.

"That mob had no right to threaten their lives. As Prince, I'm supposed to defend Thundera, but-" he looked to his father; as implacable as ever.

"But who protects the defenseless? Someone has to. So… I did…"

He was not sure what that look in his father's eyes was. And when Grune spoke, it took some effort to keep his eyes locked with the King's.

"Ha, did you go and hit the wine carts after your brother gave you a bath?" the sabre laughed.

"So, you defended justice. And as Prince, what would you do now, for justice?" Claudus asked.

"There should have been a guard, someone to ensure this wouldn't happen. If I wasn't here, they would be dead. Free them."

"What?!" Tygra said. Claudus ignored him and frowned at Lion-O.

"They almost died here, ripped apart by a mob. If they are still defiant, they will never be cowed as slaves, and if they are, they will never trouble us again for fear.

"Do we fear letting two Lizards go free?" Lion-O asked.

XXX

Claudus watched from atop the gate rampart as the two Lizards fled down the roadway before darting into the fields.

The cold wind still blew, reaching him through cloak and fur.

It did not sit well with him, releasing Lizards. Lion-O had made good points, but Claudus had little doubt the two would find their courage and once again trouble the Cats.

Had he confided to Grune on that matter, he had little doubt his friend would make some quip about "what passes for their courage". An amusing jest over mulled wine, but a King needed sight beyond sight when it came to rule. Other Animals could be brought to heel, or driven away like the Dogs over the wastelands, save for the straggler scavenger mutts that remained.

But the Lizards, despite so many defeats, persisted. Through death or the yoke, the Cat thinned their numbers in each war. Yet Claudus himself had fought in eight border wars and led the Cats in the Lizard War that had raised Panthro and Grune from soldiers to legends.

If he lived so long, there would be more wars with the Lizards, and he expected his sons would also have to deal with them.

Grune had once counseled a great war against the Lizards. To overrun their nests and forts utterly and stamp them out entirely, from King to egg until either they fled to die in the sand sea like the Dogs or were utterly wiped out and totally enslaved.

Such a war… it would be a nightmare. The Lizard Lands, the deeper one penetrated, became more desperate for outsiders. Not for nothing had Grune and Panthro's legend grown when they escaped Anasso Prison Camp to return all the way to Thundera.

No, such a war, even in victory, might injure Thundera to fall before innumerable lesser scavengers.

And now Lion-O was thinking about how to deal with the other Animals. As unreasonable as his mercy might be, it had never occurred to Claudus.

Lion-O, without question, was the smarter of his sons. Tygra was a promising warrior, but Claudus could not see the boy surpassing himself as King. His equal, yes. But to not only stem but reverse Thundera's decay, a greater King was needed.

Perhaps Lion-O could be that King. So Claudus indulged his son in this, hoping his strange son would turn his mind from children's stories to matters worthy of a Prince's thoughts.

Yes, if it had any chance of putting Lion-O on the path to being the great King that Claudus knew he could be, two enemies loosed was a more than fair price.

Turning his back to the outside world, he looked over Thundera, bathed in the light of the waning moon. It truly was beautiful, the palace in repose like the Sky Cat watching over its litter spread before it. He knew if he tried, he could pick out the slums. But for the moment he let himself think, that all was well.

XXX

Slithe withdrew from the acting parade ground that had been some wealthy Cat's field. The Cats here had been warned, destroying anything of value they could not carry off. They were long gone now. The Cats had retreated behind Thundera's walls, and this time his forces had located all those scouts and ambushers that had in the past plagued Lizard lines.

It was strange, so much going according to plan, the Lizard King admitted. In his lifetime, war had been born of lofty ambitions and carried out in spite of great setbacks and utter defeat. What else could you call it when an entire Cat flank being pressed by two elite Lizard platoons was held by only two enemy soldiers?

The Lizards he had just talked into charging into their doom were much like the soldiers his grandfather Reptos had lead in the last Cat War. The war had seen his father slain and most of his uncles lost in battle, and Claudus himself taking Reptos' head in the final battle.

Claiming the throne from all challengers had taken years, then gathering the support needed to bring the nests around to treating him like a King…

Slithe had lived his life, it felt like somedays, clawing his way up a rain slick cliff. There had been falls, near disasters.

And it was all going to build up to another war with the Cats, and how was he supposed to win where every other Animal had failed?

Backing down was not an option, of course. This rivalry would end in only two ways. The end of the Lizards, or the utter destruction of Thundera. Middle ground existed only to rest between efforts.

Yet so quickly, things were changing. Most of the sacrifices had not too long ago been elites, valued soldiers. It was young, wilier Lizards that now held the keys to the future.

He had used that in his speech, the honor and sacrifice of the past to clear the way for the future. Good line that, he was quite proud of it. His speech writer would get a nice bonus for that tidbit.

King Slithe was not excited for his vengeance. Nor was he dreading the losses to come. Strange that.

He had come to a massive black tent. No guards stood before it. None could be compelled, even under the lash, to stand long with their backs to this presence.

He had felt that once, but now it was a pathetic little dread. Good, strength over his subjects, he assured himself. But a new unease lingered, one he could not easily mark.

"They will serve. The Cats will come forth, and be slaughtered, O Ancient One," he said, bowing on his knees before the black canvas.

No answer.

Good, that meant the creature was pleased.

The night still had some life to it. He should try and get some sleep. Soon they would rearrange the links of the food chain.

XXX

The world unfolded around Lynx-O. His teacher long ago had used the unfolding of paper in his claws as a metaphor for the expansion of sense.

The evening was unseasonably cool. An ill sign, beyond the possibility of damaged crops or frozen herds in the Sabre lands, such could foretell great storms that could crack even fort walls.

The woodlands rustled healthily in contrast. The vegetation was slow to react, Animals were not. Though Animals, they could be blinded by sight.

Yes, being blind had become his blessing.

People told him of the glorious sights on Thundera. But he smelled decay, filth, desperation, and old pervading anger. And he heard more in court and nights in the streets than anyone suspected.

He served the King loyally, but in general he would serve away from the ill heart of the empire. He had been invited back for Grune, of all Cats. A fine soldier, but Lynx-O had never been able to find ease with that one.

Panthro, he had mourned in a soldier's way. But he had little and less use for games. There was always work to be done, and if Grune had returned with any meaningful intelligence to share that was time sensitive, the King would have ordered his Army General back.

Now he sat on the grass and twisting roots of ancient trees, waiting while two young scouts returned. A set of Bob twins. Not as sneaky, but far more bold and trustworthy than Feralli. They served his purposes well.

"General! We found-"

"A Lizard army, I can smell them from here," he told them. Not at the moment, of course, but no need to share that.

"…Uh, it's large, sir. But hardly the whole of the Lizard strength."

"The current Lizard royal house is weak since the last war. Likely this army is the best Slithe could do.

"Do they hold any Cats?" the General asked.

"No sir, but the other scouts-"

"Have not reported in. Disturbing. There must be more at work here to screen themselves so effectively."

"Spiderans, General?"

"Do not be foolish. Dogs, hounds most likely, hired as mercenaries. We must assume every Cat between here and the border dead, including civilians.

"We return to Thundera sending messages to any other survival outpost. The King will decide the course of the campaign."

'Not that it matters much,' Lynx-O thought, standing and following after the hasty youths.

So many cats dead, and the disgrace of a march being stolen nearly to the gates of Thundera itself? Every Cat would agree for once — it was past time their claws were worn down on a bounty of Lizard flesh.

"A beautiful day," he remarked, face lifted toward the unseen sun through a break in the branches. It was only Animals that were not beautiful.

XXX

Claudus sat on his throne, the claw that had clenched once he gave the message over to Jagga still bound in a fist.

The red light of sunset was pouring into the throne room onto the assembled nobles and officers. The officers already knew, as had some nobles and their present retainers. But confirmation was raising hackles.

His own being no exception. So soon after the celebration honoring the fallen. The Lizards spat on Panthro with this audacious defiance.

"How dare they!?"

"This is not possible. Not a single messenger escaped?"

"Ill omens."

"Vengeance!"

The Pride was being challenged, and the assembled leaders were equal measure enraged and eager.

"Enough! However it has happened, it has happened," Grune spoke up. Stepping forward, the other Cats drew back a few steps. Yes, his air of command had not diminished in his time away.

"What matters is how much we will make them bleed before our walls tomorrow!" Grune said, raising a fist. That got cheers and roars.

"Yet this is strange," Jagga spoke up from his place before Claudus' throne.

"King Slithe is no fool. Even with whatever improved tactics allowed him to penetrate our territory, he cannot hope to overwhelm Thundera. A wiser move would have been to cary on his rampage away from the capital. The better to plunder and escape without having to face Thundera's forces on their home ground," Jagga said. Grune smiled and took a single step forward toward the Chief Cleric.

"Ah, Jagga. You did not fight in the Lizard War. The Lizards are tenacious, and posses a courage of sorts to advance against even forces that outmatch them over their own dead. But they haven't the brains to forge proper steel.

"Their so-called King is simply drunk on his coward's glory, and now thinks he can make the walls of Thundera fall with some trick! Ha!

"Though, in fairness, perhaps he received news that made him think Thundera has grown… softer since the War?" Grune said, lowering his voice. He glanced to the side, where Lion-O, for once, occupied the Prince throne.

Nonsense, such a campaign had to be planned far in advance, and could not have begun sooner than shortly before Grune's own return. Claudus knew this, yet he thought of those prosers no doubt drinking with this Cat-killing horde, speaking of Cats fighting Cats.

"General, you have long been in the wilderness," Claudus said, glaring at his friend. Grune tok a step back and bowed politely at the mild rebuke.

"Of course, Your Majesty. And as Panthro often said, it's not our place to question, only to obey.

"So, I think we should tend to the troops and the walls. Let's dedicate this to Panthro. He'd probably enjoy a good Lizard thrashing more than a party anyway," Grune proclaimed. And just like that, their minds were elsewhere.

He truly was a Cat of talent, Claudus thought. As they filtered out, Claudus rose from the Lion Throne, his sons rising from the Cleric and Princely throne and following him as he descended to where Jagga lingered.

"Jagga, hold your Clerics in reserve. I dislike the fact that the Lizards could steal such a march on us." Jagga nodded, before speaking.

"And you, Your Majesty?"

"I will lead the van," Claudus declared.

"You do know that as Guardians of the Crown, we are expected from time to time to guard the Crown?" Jagga asked. Claudus chuckled a bit at that, and let his claw finally relax.

"I can take care of myself, old friend. I will be accompanied by Grune and Tygra on my claws. We will lead the Pride in reaping a fine harvest of reptiles," Claudus said. Tygra stiffened and bowed slightly.

"Thank you, father. I will bring honor to the Pride, and to you," his elder son said.

"I know you will. After Grune now, I want you to watch and learn first hand from a master. A battle has a life of its own that defies planning, but a good war leader seeks to bridle it regardless," Claudus repeated the old lesson.

Watching his son go at a brisk pace, he found himself recalling his father sending him to his first battle. Had those exact words been spoken? Agh, he was getting old.

"What's my position?" Lion-O asked.

Well, this was not like the past at all, he had to admit.

"The palace. Where, exactly, is your choice," Claudus said to his heir, waving his hand.

"Is this because of those Lizards? The time does not match up at all-"

"You have intelligence, my son. Do not let it make you think everyone else is a fool.

"But Grune's words will take root. Cats are hardly reasonable on the eve of a battle to avenge insults," Claudus reprimanded.

"Or any battle," Lion-O muttered. Did he think his father was deaf?

"This is not your time," Claudus told him.

At the look Lion-O shot him, he knew it was a poor choice of words. It was time to send Tygra to be bloodied in true battle. To him, it was self-evident, just as it was that Lion-O, his only blood heir, was not ready to be risked so casually.

But his sons could be such cubs.

"As you command, Your Majesty," Lion-O said, giving a far stiffer bow than Tygra had.

Finding no words that might salvage the situation, Claudus dismissed him with a wave. Wilykit trailed after him, closing the door behind him.

"Did I ever cause my father such troubles, Jagga?" Claudus demanded.

"Such troubles? No. But troubles certainly. Not the least of which was your choice in Queen."

"That's different. And that Cheetah. One of the Clerics," the King remarked.

"It seemed prudent," Jagga said. That twitch of his mustache told Claudus the Cleric was motivated by something else, too.

"It could be cruel if Lion-O hopes for something he can never have. You Clerics have your oaths regarding the royal line. Perhaps Tygra would taste and move on, but Lion-O is the kind of Cat that expects more," Claudus reminded him.

"Perhaps. But I sense great changes in the currents of fate, my King. The time may soon be here where questioning what was thought unquestionable will be the only wise course," the old Cat said.

"I have no time now for philosophy. Know that I do not want my son hurt by well intended acts he would see as pity.

"See to your preparations, and I will see to mine," Claudus commanded.

XXX

Jagga found the boy sulking on a bench in a secluded corridor. His mother had been fond this spot as well, Jagga recalled. Had anyone told him that?

But the palace, and Thundera itself, was thick with history. The living unknowingly crossing paths with the dead as their hopes for their future became entangled with legacies of the past.

And tomorrow, one such legacy would ensnare still more young Cats. And Lizards too, for that matter.

Serve with power, not control with power. Such was their creed. This was where he belonged.

He smiled at Wilykit as he approached; she had not noticed him. Her tail swinging idly, scratching one of her cheeks with a claw and tending to an itch on her back through her dress. Ready to serve her Prince, but at ease with him when others were not around.

That was to both their credits. Far more than the loathsome bond of master and slave.

He made a step audible on purpose, and smiled as she noticed him and snapped to attention. She bowed to him, eyes closed. Sincere respect, not fear of power. Refreshing, but still wearying in his old age.

"Eminence," she greeted him.

"Did father send you?" Lion-O snapped.

Yes, still a boy. But had he not seen from the shadows the night of the festival? A Cat raised by Thundera in her folly standing before his declared foes, not in defiance, but in their defense. The man he could become was taking shape. But the boy was not yet shed.

"Your father has greater concerns just now. Such is the burden of a crown, even in days less dark," the Cleric said.

"He listened to me. And then disaster just has to happen to make me look like a fool," the Prince said, looking at his own feet.

"Your father is not easily fooled. But he more easily speaks words that fail to say what he means. He always has been more of a Cat of actions," Jagga chuckled.

"His actions say he doesn't have faith in me. Maybe he shouldn't. Grune traveled across Third Earth and found no evidence of Tech. I've thought I was seeing something other Animals miss, Jagga," the Prince admitted.

"Sight Beyond Sight," Jagga supplied. The boy looked up at those words, and then glanced to the side, scratching behind his left ear.

"Uh, nothing that… impressive. Of course. And anyway, maybe I'm just fooling myself. I mean, if no one believes you, maybe that means you're following a false trail, right?" Lion-O asked.

"Perhaps. A wise Animal question themselves; after all, if we don't ask questions, how would we ever get answers?

"But I think you will find that it is just as important to have faith. And while others having faith in you is a fine thing, you must also be willing to have faith in yourself.

"And perhaps you are not as alone as you feel," Jagga said. Lion-O looked puzzled at that, but got up.

"Thanks, Jagga. I guess I should rest. Be ready, just in case something happens?" the boy said.

"My dear Prince. If living this long has taught me anything, it's that something always happens," Jagga said.

He watched the boy and his friend disappear around a corner, and pulled his cloak tighter.

Something was upon them. He could not see it. Or hear it. But wherever this chill came from, it could not hide the feel of it along with everything else.

"Be well, young Lion-O," he whispered, before stalking off into the corridors.

XXX

Wilykat sat on the tabletop, tail swishing behind him as he squeezed the nutcracker. The shell cracked and split, and he released the pressure. With practiced ease, he let the meat of the nut fall into his grasp, while working his fingers, letting the shell pieces fall onto the wood in front of him.

Popping the morsel into his mouth, he chewed, looking around at the Feralli chieftains of the slums and wider Thundera. An assemblage of a breed's leadership should have been noted, especially on the eve of battle. But they were Feralli, so he doubted most of the Great Cats, even with titles, knew they had a real leadership.

A tavern back room was both a telling meeting place, and a convenient one.

"Good nuts, you'll have to tell me your source later," Kat commented.

The chieftain who this tavern belonged to tore his eyes from the Ferallli seated behind Kat to look at his leader. Not a bold one, a businessman who survived by virtue of being a non-threat no one wanted to see replaced by potential troublemakers.

"Of course, El Dara," the stocky cat said. Kat smiled, and brushed the crumbs off his face.

"I am sorry to call you here. I know you are busy. I am busy too. We are on the verge of seeing a great job through to completion. It is a time for anxiety and excitement.

"And those things can lead to Cats doing things like drinking. You all know how much Zraik likes his drink, right?

"Monkey, help Zraik remind them," Kat instructed. He did not turn as Monkey cackled and started poorly imitating the fool's voice.

"Heeeello everyone!

"You might have heard I was drunk! Because I was so loud, and not even indoors! I was talking about things I shouldn't. Bragging about stuff that will happen.

"So now I am dead because I am stupid!" Monkey said. The teeth of Zraik's corpse were clacking together behind Kat.

"But there is a sliver lining, as I have found a noble purpose in death as a puppet for a handsome and affable monkey! HHOHOHO!" Monkey laughed, before pushing the corpse out of its chair.

"In a related matter," Kat said, before trailing off. He waited a moment until he heard Monkey reclining in the now vacant chair.

"It's come to my attention that you have not all been sticking to the plan. That you are planning planting the packages before schedule," Wilykat said. The table creaking a bit under him, he moved on all fours to a Feralli with only half his whiskers and a poker face not quit up to snuff.

"Boss, it would be much easier to plant these under cover of dark. Why should we wait until the last minute on some of them?" he asked. Kat grabbed the whiskers on the left side of his face.

"Because, before the guards and others are preoccupied with the imminent battle, there is a chance the will find the packages," Kat said calmly.

"But they won't know what they are! Much less how to turn them off!" the Feralli objected. Kat tugged on the whiskers now.

"But they would move them. And may mention it, and say some other Cat recalls spotting something like that. And then they start thinking. Don't much care if some cart or warehouse gets super blown up. But it would mean things that were supposed to explode on schedule would not.

"And if you are worried about discovery, that is your problem. You have had ample time to make plans and pick your teams for the job. Getting caught is one thing, stuff happens. But deviating from the plan because of your own crumbling stones?" Kat said, grabbing the rest of the whiskers with his free hand.

"It's the difference between simple failure and choosing to fail because you have failed to be obedient," Kat hissed into the adult Cat's face.

Letting go of the whiskers, he let the underboss massage his cheeks. And then gave him a gentle pat on the head.

"Now, you know I don't want to be mean about this. But you must remember, the events of the next day/night cycle will be critical. In fact, critical doesn't cover it by half.

"Not only is a new era coming, but if we play our part flawlessly, we will be assured of our place in that era. So if your courage starts to falter, just remember this.

"The Great Cats have played this game where two cats tear into each other and the one still standing afterwards is the winner. Even if the Cat standing is still bleeding and dizzy. By that game, the Feralli have been forced down to the bottom. Even amongst Tailed Cats, we're seen as small enough to spit on.

"But we have survived, and most of us are even free. For two reasons — by using our cunning to cheat at this game of theirs, and by sticking together. As it's said, even the biggest Lion can't swallow five Feralli all at once, but he could one at a time.

"So that, is this. We are upending their game. We are not going to face them with fang and claw to tear into each other. That is how we have lost. We are going to tear the nails out of the floorboards so they fall through the floor onto the spikes we planted beforehand.

"And we can do this not just with our new friends and tools. But because we hang close and careful, taking no unnecessary risks and no gambles of one Cat looking out for himself before the clan.

"So stay the course, and in two days the Feralli will be the Top Cats!" Wilykat said.

That got cheers, and Red, on signal, opened the door to enter with a keg of the good stuff. One cup each to follow up words with a material reward. Good business. And it's not like he paid for that alcohol, anyway.

True, the Feralli would be sharing that top spot with the Sabres. But why dampen their spirits with truth? And anyway, it was nothing but truth that his clan would be collecting long-standing debts very soon.

So very close. The only worry left was if Grune would keep his word.


Author's Note: Was nice to work on this again inspiration came unexpectedly. Hopefully it will not be another year plus until next chapter. Where things start exploding.

Hope you all liked this little chapter. Long days and pleasant nights.