“How are you feeling Nimble?” Skivret said. He was glad that her limp was gone.

“Good sire,” Nimble said. Her ears twitched under his gaze. “I appreciate you bringing me, even if it slowed you down.”

“You’re my right hand,” He said, “It’s important to have you near.”

“I won’t disappoint,” Nimble’s ears twitched wildly. Skivret smiled at her embarrassment.

They turned the corner and the walls of Camp Radigalst stood before them. The Rat King’s camp was the pride and joy for their people. Unlike Skivret’s camp, the wooden planks that made the walls were uniform and treated and bound together by iron brackets. Lanterns shown on the open gate in front of them. It was the only camp with an actual gate with hinges. Two guards stood watch as Skivret’s entourage approached.

“Halt!” a guard said, “State your business.”

“I’m prince Skivret,” he said approaching the guards, “I’ve come to speak with my father.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking bout red eyes,” The other guard spat, “The princes are already inside with the king.”

“He is a prince!” Nimble said pushing forward, “You will treat him with respect.”

“Like shite I will,” the guard said, “His kind bring bad luck with dem red eyes, and that mark on his face,” the guard squinted, “It’s on all your faces. Go away!”

Nimble reached for her sword but Skivret stopped her, “Wait,” he said pulling her back to join his other guards, “On my signal, rush both of them, but don’t kill them.” He approached the gate.

“You just don’t give up.” The guard said with a growl.

“I’m going inside,” Skivret said thumping his tail on the stone. His guards rushed forward brandishing their new spears that Reviled brought them. The gate guards squeaked in surprise and lashed out, but their wooden spears broke on the metal breastplates, another gift from Reviled. “Now stand aside.” He said striding forward.

The gate guards growled but stepped back to let them pass. Skivret’s guards lowered their weapons when they passed through the gate.

The camp was bathed in the light of many lanterns. Some were made from the colored glass of bottles or with broken stained glass. The colorful lights paired nicely with the music coming from the band playing outside of a tavern. One musician masterfully played the spoons. Humans couldn’t appreciate the music the wererats made from the handmade junk instruments. Skivret enjoyed coming to this camp.

“This must be what the city is like!” Nimble said staring in awe.

“Maybe,” Skivret said chuckling, “But I’ll take this over the city above any day.”

They continued further in. The camp’s streets followed the tunnels with bridges to cross over the canals. Tents were the only buildings, but not all were houses. The larger tents tended to be taverns with open flaps as invitation. There were chairs, but pillows, and the tables were legless sitting on the ground. The store owners sat on plush pillows with their goods laid out on a carpet for all to see. They called out their wares trying to entice the crowd to peruse. Citizens stopped and gawked at the passing entourage. Only the King’s champions wore metal armor, and Skivret’s fine cloak, a gift from Meridith, made him stand out from the simple vest and tunic that the average wererat wore. Although, he didn’t like the stares from the females as they adjusted their wrapped dresses. Skivret pushed the group to speed up, and they rounded a corner that led to the Rat King’s palace.

The Rat King’s palace consisted of multiple tents of various sizes and colors. Many called it the rainbow castle. The palace overlooked a large reservoir that lay behind it with a dock on the side. This allowed the scavengers to bring their tribute to the king. They stepped into the warmth of the entrance.

“Stop!” a robed, elderly wererat approached. His deep blue robes clashed with the red sash draping his shoulders. His grey fur was well groomed. “You can’t just walk into the palace.”

“I’m here to see my father Write,” Skivret said.

“Prince Skivret?” Write said squinting his beady eyes, “I hardly recognize you!” his eyes flashed back and forth between the seal over Skivret’s left eye and the scars on the right. “What happened?”

Skivret took a deep breath, “A lot,” he said, “I need to speak with my father. Is he here?”

“Yes, right this way.”

They followed Write into the palace. Fine silk curtains and rugs decorated the interior. It was the only place in the sewers that one could find such opulence. Write led them to a room with the flaps to the next tent closed.

“Your guards need to stay here,” he said.

The next room was the most luxurious in the entire palace. Golden candelabras lit the room showing off the fine tapestries. Golden chains, made from stolen jewelry, hung from the support beam with the inset gems glistening in the light. A gold-plated throne sat at the back of room with the Rat King sitting on it.

The Rat King was twice the height of Skivret and three times his width, but there was a hint of brawn beneath the fat. Due to his size, he only wore a fine cloak around his shoulders, and a golden pendant. His dark brown fur was specked with grey highlights. Three well dressed wererats stood in front of the king. Skivret ignored the glares from his brothers.

“Sire, I present Prince Skivret,” Write said kneeling.

“It’s been a long-time son,” the Rat King said with a faint smile, “You look like shite.”

Skivret chuckled lightly, “Really, it’s hard to tell these days,” he said, “My right eye’s isn’t what it used to be.”

The king slapped his leg in laughter, “Your blind too!” After a few seconds the King took in his son, “Truthfully, I like the scar, it looks good on you, but I can’t say the same for the crest. What happen?”

“I was played,” Skivret said with a sigh, “Decker’s monster took advantage of my desperation, and this was the result.”

“So, you’re in cahoots with the monster?” Skivret’s eldest brother said turning to their father, “He’s a traitor, execute him!”

“How dare you order me Olmret!” the king said slamming a fist.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“But he admitted to it,”

“Yes, and he has paid the price,” the king said looking at his sons, “If ya want him dead, then kill him yourself, by yourself.”

“But…” Olmret said in disbelief.

“No buts,” the king said gesturing for Skivret to come forward. He waited till Skivret stood by his brothers. “Only one of you will become king, and you all have to prove yourself like I did.”

“Have I not proven myself?” Olmret said in shock.

The king shook his head, “No,” he said, “You will only be recognized once all your brothers submit. That’s why I didn’t get involved in your scuffle with Skivret.”

Olmret turned to his brothers, “Dolbret, Uhlgret, submit now!” Their ears laid flat and their tails tucked around their legs. Pleased, Olmret turned to Skivret, “Submit, and I’ll end our feud. No more attacks, I swear.”

Skivret stared at his brother, the fur on his neck rising, “No, I’m taking the throne,” he said.

Olmret grabbed Skivret by the collar, “Then I’ll kill ya, ya little shite,” he said with a growl, “I was fighting while you were learning to read.”

“No fighting in my camp!” the king said, “If you want to fight then take it to the arena.”

“Later,” Skivret said pulling himself free, “I have more important business to tend to.” Olmret snarled and stormed out of the room with his brothers close behind him.

“You best finish your business quickly,” the king said, “Write, help him with whatever he needs.”

“Follow me prince,” Write led Skivret out of the throne room. Write took Skivret to his old room in the palace. “How may I help?”

“I’m looking to recruit a tinker,” Skivret said, “Are there any in the camp willing to move?”

“A tinker?” Write tugged at his whiskers, “I’ll spread the word and let you know.”

“Thank you Write,”

“Anything for my favorite pupil,” the old rat said.

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Skivret’s tail thumped against the floor as he sat in his room. He heard the flap to his tent open and looked up hopefully, but his ears drooped when he saw Write step into the room.

“Well?” Skivret said.

“I’m sorry milord,” Write said, “No one came today.”

Skivret squeaked in frustration, “It’s been three days,” he said pulling at his whiskers, “I expected at least one to show up.”

“Then why not go and scout the city?” Write said, “Engage with your people. Trust me, it will help.”

“Thanks, Write,” Skivret said strapping on his sword belt, “Can you get Nimble to meet me at the front?”

Write bowed, “Of course.”

He’s right. Skivret stepped out of his room. If I want to be king, then I need to know my people. Skivret moved through the halls until he came to the entrance. He didn’t have to wait long for Nimble.

She panted, “Did I keep you waiting, sire?” she said looking around, “Are the other guards not coming?”

“No, I wanted it to be the two of us,” Skivret said, “Are you ready?”

Nimble’s ears twitched wildly, “Of course,” She followed Skivret out of the castle.

They wandered through the camp streets, enthralled by the sights and sounds. It had a different feel to home. Here, everything felt like a celebration with the multicolored lanterns and music in the air. The shopping district was especially loud with calling vendors. Skivret stood in front of a jewelry stall. He noticed Nimble staring at a brass hoop earring.

“I’ll take that one,” Skivret said handing over several copper coins.

“Thank you sir,”

Skivret handed the jewelry to Nimble, “Thank you, sire,” she said piercing her ear. She inspected herself in the mirror. “It’s pretty.”

“It looks good on you,” Skivret said.

“Why isn’t it done yet!” The shouting drew Skivret’s attention down the street. A crowd started gathering in front of a tent with a broken anvil out front and an elderly black rat sat on the ground sharping a sword. Olmret glared at the tinkerer, “Why isn’t my sword ready yet? I brought it to you this morning.”

“You’re not the only one paying me to fix their weapon,” the elderly rat said calmly, “I have other swords to get to first.”

“I am a prince!” Olmret stepped closer, “I should be taken care of first.”

“That’s not how it works,”

Olmret grabbed the elderly rat by the fur and pressed him against the anvil. “Are you sure about that,” he turned to his guards, “Cut his ears off.” The crowd gasped in horror.

“No, papa!” a white wererat in a rose wrap shouted while being held back by a pair of black and white wererats.

“Stop it!” Skivret said pushing through the crowd.

“This isn’t your business, red eyes,” Olmret said glaring at his brother.

“I’m making it my business,” Skivret said staring down at his brother, “Now let him go.”

“Why?”

“You challenged me to a fight,” Skivret said drawing his short sword, “Let’s fight, just the two of us.”

Olmret stood and towered over his brother, “To the arena, now.”

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Skivret stood in the arena. News of the fight spread quickly because a massive crowd gathered around the edge. Olmret stood on the other side of the arena testing out his longsword. Half of the blade was missing, but it still required two hands for Olmret to use. Skivret looked down at his own short sword. Remember my forms. Skivret took a calming breath and gripped his sword in both hands.

“You can do it sire!” Nimble said from above.

The crowd fell silent, and a bell rang.

Olmret charged, holding his sword above his head. Skivret smoothly slid to the side and struck with his sword. The blade nicked Olmret’s shoulder, and he slashed sideways at Skivret. Skivret dodged the attack and the one that followed. What is wrong with his moves. Skivret dodged the next attack and charged forward, cutting into Olmret’s side. They’re slow and sloppy. Skivret cut Olmret’s side again. I’m not that skilled, which means.

“Why are you fighting with a weapon you’re not used to?” Skivret said glaring at his brother.

“Because I don’t need my normal sword to beat you,” Olmret said in frustration, “You’re a runt, I can crush easily.”

Skivret tightened his grip, “You’ll regret that,” he said, “I’ll teach you the lesson I learned from Decker’s monster.”

“What’s that?”

Skivret rushed past cutting Olmret’s arm and leg. “Never underestimate your enemy,”

“Dammit!” Olmret charged as he swung his sword wildly.

Olmret’s attacks were obvious. Skivret dodged and parried each one with ease and retaliated with his own attacks. Skivret’s strikes were shallow but were accumulating quickly. Olmret’s tunic was drenched in blood and sweat, and he panted heavily. Olmret struck with a desperate cry. Skivret dodged and slashed in a wide arc. Olmret screamed in pain. Blood ran down Olmret’s face and onto the floor, next to his severed ear.

Skivret pointed his sword at his brother’s face, “Surrender,”

“No!”

Skivret pulled on Olmret’s left ear and cut it off. “A rat without ears,” he said with a snicker, “Nearly as disgusting as an albino.” Olmret scowled at him.

“Enough!” They looked up to see the Rat King staring down at them. “You’re fight’s over.” He looked at Olmret with disgust, “I want you gone,” He turned to Skivret with a smirk, “You too. I want you both gone by tomorrow,” he turned to leave, “Take your war someplace else.”

Two of Olmret’s guards aided him out of the pit. Skivret climbed out and stood next to Nimble. The tinkerer and his family approached.

“Thank you sire. My name is Rench” the elderly rat bowed, “If there is anything you desire then it is yours.”

“I came looking for a tinkerer,” Skivret said taking a deep breath, “I would like for you to join, but you should know…my clan is serving Decker’s monster. Are you fine with that?”

Rench hesitated, “Of course,” he said, “You protected me, and that’s all that matters,” Rench slowly rose to his feet, “My family and I will meet you at the gate.”

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Skivret’s stepped through the gate to his camp triumphantly. Rench’s sons pulled the cart carrying their possessions.

“Welcome back sire,” Blegt said with a salute.

“Where’s Reviled?”

“In your tent sire,” Blegt said scratching at his chin nervously, “He came back two days ago, and hasn’t left.”

“Thank you,” Skivret turned to Nimble, “Please take care of Rench’s family,” he turned to Rench, “Time for you to meet the master.”

Skivret took Rench to his tent. Inside, they found Reviled sitting at the table looking through one of two books. Cappy laid on Reviled’s right shoulder reading the book too.

Reviled turned the page, “No,” Cappy said and Reviled turned it back. She hummed quietly then said, “Next page.”

“Are you even reading?”

“Yes," she said, "This one's about Billy who brought his dog back to life," Reviled growled at her response, "and this one's about Frank. His wife left him and now he’s sad, kinda' like the mouse." Skivret sat at the table, "Hi mouse!"

“I’m back,” Skivret said sneering at Cappy, “And I brought a tinkerer.” Skivret’s eyes fell to the table when Reviled turned to them. Rench gasped in horror.

“Excellent,” Reviled said, “We welcome you…”

“Rench…master Reviled,” he said, “I take it you’re the reason the prince needed a tinkerer?”

“Yes,” it pushed the other book towards them, “Here are our schematics. Let Skivret know if you need anything specific.” Rench nodded, taking the book. “One last thing,” it chuckled, “Where would you like the mark?”