Chapter 11 Horse Politics?

The horses were surprisingly cooperative, and for that, I had Butler to thank. Without him, I doubted this little convoy of ours would have made it more than a few miles outside Felor before descending into chaos.

Four wagons, pulled by equally demanding and eccentric horses, made good progress through the night. Despite the bumpy ride, I helped the cats create torches with my newfound pyromancy. While they didn’t have hands, their ingenuity was remarkable; they managed to attach the torches to the wagons using twine and sticks. For an extra layer of safety, I conjured small motes of light that floated like fireflies, illuminating the road ahead.

It was exhausting at first, but as the night wore on, I found the effort becoming more manageable.

In the lead wagon, most of the cat leaders gathered around me, their eyes full of expectation.

"Who here has experience traveling between cities?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Daisy yawned delicately before replying, "I do."

"Then your advice will be crucial. For now, rest while you can. I’ll stay awake with Butler to make sure we keep ahead of any pursuers."

"Awww..." Butler groaned dramatically.

Lucky, ever the pragmatist, stretched out. "In that case, I’ll take you up on that offer. Good night."

Chunky and his trusted crew huddled together in a fluffy pile, with Demo reluctantly joining them after some coaxing. Scruffy, on the other hand, remained vigilant, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness. Daisy, true to form, curled up elegantly on her own, hissing at any cat who dared approach her.

I sighed and turned to Butler. "How are the horses holding up?"

Butler scratched his ear awkwardly. "Uuuh... you said to offer them anything, right? Well, you asked for it."

My stomach sank. "What now?"

"They all want wives," Butler replied, completely deadpan.

I blinked. "Wait, what? All of them?"

So, these horses were all guys, huh?

Butler nodded. "Yup. Oh, and one of them also wants a personal comb, two of them want armor because they dream of becoming warriors, and the last one wants to eat meat."

I grimaced. "The last guy... He knows he’s a horse, right?"

"Don’t ask me," Butler muttered, his tail flicking.

I rubbed my face with a paw. This was... a lot to unpack. My initial plan of possibly raising horses as livestock for future use was officially out the window. How could I treat them as livestock when they were clearly sentient and demanding ridiculous things like combs and armor? That would be no different than slavery, and I wasn’t about to stoop that low.

"Okay," I said, finally. "We’ll fulfill their demands. Somehow."

Butler’s whiskers twitched with amusement. "They also said they want the freedom to go their separate ways whenever they like."

"Of course, they did," I muttered.

"But," Butler continued, "the ones who want armor promised to serve you for two years if you deliver. The others agreed to one month of service. If you don’t deliver, though..."

I frowned. "What happens if we don’t deliver?"

"They’ll fight us to the death," Butler said cheerfully. "Especially the meat-eating one. He seemed very enthusiastic about that part."

I stared at him, then at the horses ahead of us. Bunch of crazy beasts. I’d always known horses weren’t to be trusted, but this confirmed it.

"And the deadlines?" I asked, resigned.

"The armor-loving ones said you have until the end of their service to deliver their reward. The others gave you a one-month deadline."

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"How generous of them," I muttered sarcastically.

These weren’t ordinary horses—they were medieval fantasy horses, far stronger and sturdier than the ones I knew back home. If a fight broke out, it wouldn’t be pretty. As much as I hated the idea of bending to their demands, I couldn’t risk losing even one cat in a skirmish with these beasts.

"Fine," I said at last. "We’ll comply. For now."

Butler tilted his head. "What about the one who wants meat?"

I groaned. "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

The convoy of wagons continued through the night, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt road filling the quiet. Scruffy, ever the vigilant one, broke the silence as he perched next to me on the lead wagon.

“So, are you going to equip us?” he asked suddenly, his sharp green eyes fixed on me.

I blinked, confused. “What?”

“The rings,” Scruffy clarified, his tail flicking toward my own, where the shiny bands were still looped securely. “They looked like interesting weapons. We cats don’t exactly like weapons, but we could use them as accessories. Maybe even to improve growth.”

I looked down at my tail, the rings catching the faint glow of the torches and the motes of light I’d conjured earlier. The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but Scruffy had a point. The rings could potentially give us an edge.

I flicked my tail, letting the rings slide off into my paw, and handed them to Scruffy. “I like the idea. But be careful. They drain stamina quickly—more than you’d expect. If we’re going to distribute them, we need to test how they work on us first.”

Scruffy nodded, slipping one of the rings—a simple, stat-enhancing band—onto his paw. At first, he seemed fine. He stretched experimentally, his movements fluid and confident. “This feels… good. Like I’m stronger, faster.”

Encouraged, he slid on the second ring, the one imbued with invisibility.

Almost immediately, Scruffy’s posture sagged. His breaths came in short, rapid bursts, and his muscles visibly tensed. He looked as though he was carrying a weight far heavier than his small frame could handle.

“Scruffy, stop!” I said sharply.

Scruffy grimaced, pulling the second ring off with a shaky paw. As soon as it left him, he collapsed onto his side, panting heavily. “You weren’t kidding about the stamina drain,” he wheezed. “Wearing one is fine, but two? That’s... too much.”

I nodded, picking up the invisibility ring. “Then we’ll keep it simple. Each cat gets one ring, and we’ll prioritize those who can make the most use of them.”

Scruffy slipped the stat-enhancing ring back on, his breathing stabilizing as he adjusted to its effects. “This one’s good. It’s subtle, but I can feel the difference.”

I examined the invisibility ring in my paw, its surface smooth and almost warm to the touch. It was tempting to keep it for myself, but Lucky came to mind. She was our best scout—agile, resourceful, and stealthy even without magic. With this ring, she’d be nearly unstoppable.

“I’ll hold onto this one for now,” I said, slipping the invisibility ring into a small pouch tied around my neck. “But I might give it to Lucky later.”

Scruffy nodded, still adjusting to his newfound strength. “Good call. But if we’re going to use these rings, we need to find more of them. Equipping just a few of us won’t be enough.”

I sighed. He wasn’t wrong. The rings were a game-changer, but they were also a reminder of how underprepared we were. If we wanted to survive—and thrive—in this world, we’d need every advantage we could get.

For now, though, the convoy pressed on, the rings a small but significant step toward securing our future.

The convoy moved at a steady but laborious pace. With only a single horse pulling each wagon, the animals often needed to stop and rest. None of us complained—if anything, the cats seemed to welcome the breaks. It gave us time to stretch our legs and check the wagons for any damage or loose cargo.

After several pit stops, though, it became clear we couldn’t keep pushing through the night. The horses were visibly tired, their heads hanging low and breaths heavy. Butler, ever the diplomat, confirmed their unspoken demands for a proper rest.

“We should stop here,” I said, loud enough for the cats in the other wagons to hear. “Let’s make camp.”

The other cats woke as we unlatched the horses and let them roam within a safe perimeter. Daisy took charge of assigning night watch duty, organizing rotations with military-like efficiency. Even in her half-awake state, she managed to keep the others in line.

Once the shifts were sorted, I turned my attention to the campfire. Out of habit, I decided to make one—this time better than my previous attempts.

“Dig a pit,” I instructed, gesturing to a clear spot in the center of our makeshift camp. “I want the fire contained.”

A few of the more industrious cats got to work, their paws and claws scraping at the dirt with surprising speed. I stood over them, directing where to pile the dirt and how deep to dig. In truth, I had no idea what I was doing. My knowledge of campfires came from scattered memories of online survival videos. Something about pits and rocks around the fire, I thought.

“Make it wide enough for the wood,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

Once the pit was ready, a handful of volunteers set off to gather fuel. They returned with an assortment of twigs, dried leaves, and anything else that looked flammable. I knelt by the pit and summoned a small flame with my paw.

The fire roared to life faster than I expected, casting a warm glow over the camp. The cats watched in quiet awe as I carefully adjusted the fire’s intensity with my pyromancy, making sure it was strong enough to last the night but not so large that it drew unwanted attention.

“Good work, everyone,” I said, sitting back and letting out a satisfied sigh.

The cats began settling down in a loose circle around the fire. Some used their improvised cloaks as makeshift blankets, while others simply curled up where they sat. The firelight danced across their fur, casting flickering shadows that stretched and shifted with the night.

Despite the chaos of the past day, a sense of calm settled over the camp. The crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of the leaves above were the only sounds as one by one, the cats drifted off to sleep.

I stayed awake a little longer, watching the flames and listening to the quiet breathing of my companions. For the first time in what felt like forever, we were safe—at least for now.