The Kat’sheth leader sat on the railing of a balcony of the Royal Palace of the Vatharian king. To the Kat’sheth, he was known as Lord Small Ears. The humans of Vathary called him Councilor Dravon, and thought he was a human.
He hoped to soon be elevated to the title “Big Ears,” the title his father had held, but first he needed to retake the northern lands. Or at least make it to “Middle-Sized Ears” if he could retake part of the lands.
He sat and licked his paw. The body of the bird he had killed and mutilated lay nearby, on the balcony floor. Dravon knew it was time for action. The attack needed to go tomorrow.
Finally Boalgaroz arrived. He hopped up to the railing and sat next to Dravon, their tales moving slowly side-to-side, in sync.
They spoke in their native language, Small Evil Feline. They were both in their normal form, looking very much like the common house cats seen in the country. Dravon was gray and black with a white mark on his left paw, while Boalgaroz was orange, fluffier, and had faint white and gray stripes.
A maid was just inside, cleaning up the bedroom. She looked out on the balcony and saw only two cats, sitting on the railing, meowing at each other. Dravon was somewhat disappointed in the maid – he had assigned her to his personal chamber because she liked cats, but she had only seemed to have an aversion to him when he was in his natural cat form. She was bothered by the bird killing too. She didn’t know it was him, of course, but he preferred the humans that had natural reverence for cats. When the Kat’sheth took over, those humans would have higher positions than the rest of the humanoids.
Dravon turned to the newly arrived cat. “Cousin, are all the preparations made?” he meowed.
“They are, Lord Small Ears. We will be ready for the attack in three nights, as you instructed,” Boalgaroz meowed back, sitting proudly.
“Good, but there is a change, which you will need to accommodate,” said Dravon. “I am changing the time. You and your team go tomorrow night. I read the entrails.” Dravon motioned with his paw to the dead bird on the floor. “Tomorrow night is auspicious. Right at the beginning of the second watch. That is when the attack should happen.”
“Tomorrow is the Equinox. Won't the tree huggers be at their most powerful? That is a night of power for the Great Mother.”
“I cough up a hairball at the so-called Great Mother. I care nothing of her power. Her followers will all be drunk after their pathetic celebration. It is the perfect night to strike. It is the first step for the Kat’sheth to take back our land.” Dravon’s tail twitched excitedly.
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“As you say, my lord.”
A bird had landed insultingly close to Dravon and Boalgaroz, at the other end of the balcony railing. Dravon considered killing it on general principles. He watched it for a moment, then turned back to his cousin.
“I have sent Lord Glasco on to Lagar’s Haven, acting as the official envoy of the Kingdom of Vathary.”
“Did you give him the money?!” Boalgaroz asked, a question Dravon also considered disrespectful.
“No, of course I haven’t given him the ransom money! That money is ours, for our cause. No, Glasco is just going to tell Jend that our king wants him first to check the health of the prisoners. He’ll say they heard they were eaten, and needs to see that they are alive. It is reasonable, so I'm sure the idiot monsters will let him see the prisoners, and then he’ll know where to direct you to.”
“Is Glasco trustworthy?”
“Again questioning my judgment, Boalgaroz? You do that again, and I will sear off your tail. Glasco is perfect for our task. He is from an old family, and still thinks himself great and powerful. The family was powerful, back when Glasco was young, but he has been a terrible steward of his own estates. He now has barely two gold coins to rub together. I have been helping him out for years, so he is entirely at my mercy. He will do what I tell him. He even understands some of the danger he is in, but he is still doing it. You can trust him for this mission, although don't let him know what you really are.”
“So I should contact him when I arrive?”
“Yes, the rest of the plan remains as discussed. You use the teleport circle in the old weaver’s temple, which will be empty at that hour. Glasco will be waiting either outside the temple, or at The Bleeding Edge,” explained Dravon.
“What is ‘The Bleeding Edge’?”
“It is an old tavern, popular with the mercenaries and the traders who need them. It was my favorite place to go. It is near the River Gate.”
“Okay, so we teleport into the old temple, sneak out quietly in pairs, find Glasco, and he will tell us where the prisoners are. We then go and release them, killing as many guards as we can, and get Bowen and the other prisoners back to the teleport circle. And if I can’t release the prisoners, we kill the prisoners.” Boal sounded confident.
“Exactly. It would almost be better that way, as we’d blame their deaths on Jend, and that would help us get this war started.”
“Well, how do you want it? I don’t mind killing a few additional humans. They get on my nerves, all of the hairless apes.”
Dravon thought about the issue. “Rescue the Vatharians if it can be done without too many problems. Above all, don’t risk yourself or them finding out what you are. If a couple of the humans die, then they die. Until the humans again worship us as gods, they don’t have our protection.”
He licked his paw again, then pointed his tail at Boal.
“Only the two knights may be worth taking some risk for. Bowen’s family has long supported our cause, and he has supported me in front of the king. He is useful. The young knight Sir Hargest is poor, so can be bought, and if we save him from the dungeons of the orcs, he will be well disposed to help us and our cause. Bowen and Hargest are probably being tortured as we speak. It is, after all, what I would do.”