It had been three weeks since the bandages had come up. This was our last official training session before I officially became a Journeymouse. Mousethief had let me know, I would be going on a simpler mission with my father, but he promised to keep his nose to the ground to try and find something more exciting, which meant more killing and cash rewards from the organization.

I moved forward, striking at my father quickly. He backed off and began running away. I chased after him while keeping my guard up. He came to a wall and quickly ran up it and then onto the ceiling. I was ready for such a move and kept moving forward.

As he fell and spun, I was past his landing point and spinning around. I landed a glancing blow on his back as he tried to twist around. He stumbled back. “We can stop for the day. I guess I am an old cat,” my father said with a smile.

“Well, just have to keep training hard no matter what,” I replied, and my father nodded.

“A good attitude to have. Never get overconfident. You can be self-assured, but never think your skills are enough to beat all other creatures. Terrain, fitness, exhaustion, they all play a role,” my father said, and I nodded. I had heard this before when I had gotten the occasional win, but he liked to constantly remind me.

“So, a mission?” I asked.

“Yes. There is a report of a small group of ducks that are trying to summon their ancestral spirit.”

“But birds don’t have ancestral spirits,” I replied, and my father nodded.

“Which makes it great for a first mission. Something to sink your claws into and get your paws wet. What is the standard procedure in a case like this?” he asked.

“Death for most of them, with a few being handed over to be made an example of by the clean up crew. But with birds it is more complicated. They move in tribes quite often and can easily escape into the sky,” I replied.

“Indeed. I suggest you review the Creature Compendium on ducks. We leave tomorrow morning. For now, get cleaned up Journeymouse.”

“Should change it to Journeycat,” I replied. “What do you think the Covenant Church would charge for changing the language,” I asked.

“Too much. Far too much,” he said, and I hesitated. I kept meaning to ask him, but I had put it off. I couldn’t afford to hesitate, I needed to be brave.

“Mousethief, you okay with him helping me?” I asked.

“He is the best. Honestly a big part of my success,” my father replied.

“But you haven’t given him any of your income?” I asked.

“He is paid quite a bit. What I earn I risk my life for. Has he asked you? He shouldn’t have done that,” my father said.

“It is fine. Don’t worry about it. We have our own arrangement, and I am quite happy with it. I was just curious why you didn’t split things with him, even a fraction,” I replied.

“An island. A harem.” My father shook his head. “Worthless goals of a depraved creature. Building a legacy for the cats under the Covenant Church is far more important than anything else. While it will take generations, eventually we will get there.” Probably a lot sooner than you think father. Once I got going with Mousethief and Mes, I would be unstoppable.

“Alright,” I replied. I kind of got it. But it seemed a bit selfish when Mousethief was a big part of my father’s success. I guess he didn’t see it that way, since he felt he was the creature with his life on the line the majority of the time, not Mousethief.

“Don’t worry about Mousethief, he likes to take a mile, when you give him an inch. Now get cleaned up. Another tradition is to have a nice meal before your first mission. No tricks,” my father said. I nodded and left the training room.

After getting a shower, I chose to wear my casual clothing. A hoodie and lose sweatpants, with tight but flexible sports clothing underneath them. It was a bit hot, but I could always take my hoodie off without overheating. My father hadn’t said anything except that assassins could wear whatever they want as long as it was suitable for the job.

No one cared about the dress code that much. The soldiers and other employees of the organization had strict dress codes, but assassins were exempt. Part of the original agreement. The Covenant Church couldn’t impose burdensome rules. Any rule change or change in the agreement with the Covenant Church required full approval of all the Master Assassins.

While we served the church, we weren’t slaves. Every creature that was an assassin put their life on the line with the missions assigned to them. The goal was to remove all petty drama and inner turmoil within the organization. That was why sparring was highly discouraged and asking who was stronger was considered incredibly rude. It invited an internal competitive atmosphere when there were other creatures out there to kill.

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If the Church made things difficult, then it wouldn’t take long for the Master Assassins to look at the organization with contempt. That was why they had so much say in any changes and approving the payouts for missions.

It was part of the learning I had to do, why the organization was set up the way it was. I had also learned it was called Division Eight since there were several other divisions in the Covenant Church with a High Cleric overseeing each one.

After getting cleaned up, my father met up with me and led me up to the third floor and to a small dining room. We were the first to arrive. “You are the guest of honor. You sit to the left of the head of the table. My title as Warrior’s Shadow supersedes the title of your master, so I sit to the right,” my father said and stood behind his chair. I did the same.

Paladin Bloodclaw was the next to arrive, but in a robe instead of his usual armor. I almost didn’t recognize him. “Tom Cat,” he greeted my father first.

“Bloodclaw, thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Hmmpft,” he gave off a snort and moved to the seat next to me. Right behind him entered Doctor Sharpeyes who moved next to my father. Then Gary came and moved to the opposite head of the table. Even with the dangerous people near me, I still felt an increased sense of danger when High Cleric Maximilian entered.

He made his way to the head of the table and sat down. “Please, my friends and colleagues, sit, there is no need to stand on formalities this evening,” he said and we all sat. “Today we gather here to celebrate Journeymouse Mittens. May she find success,” he said.

“May she find success,” everyone repeated. I didn’t know what to say and he turned to smile at me.

“Don’t worry Mittens. That was the only formal part. A small affair to build ties between the Covenant and the organization. I have heard you managed to land a blow on Tom Cat?” he asked me as servants entered to deliver a custom plate of food to each of us and pour everyone wine.

I focused on the conversation not the smells. “Yes. My win ratio has increased to around a quarter of the time. I don’t think I can bridge the remaining gap any time soon,” I replied.

“It is already impressive, that you can land a blow. You must be proud Tom Cat,” Maximilian said.

“Very proud. I couldn’t ask for a better apprentice or daughter,” he replied. Maximilian had a bit of a vegetable loaf he had been served and sipped his wine.

“Please, eat and drink,” everyone began to eat. I noticed my father using the silverware instead of his claws and I carefully copied him. My movements were precise, and crisp. “What do you think Bloodclaw. You spent a lot of time with Mittens. Did she impress you?”

The badger froze for a moment and slowly lowered his knife and fork where he had been carving up a large piece of fish. “She performed acceptably. I have no regrets passing her,” he replied and then went back to eating.

“High words of praise from our resident paladin. What about you Gary. Your grand disciple as it were?” Maximilian asked.

“She might eclipse her father one day if she continues to train as she has been,” he replied without pause as he enjoyed his vegetable loaf.

“Your opinion, Doctor Sharpeyes?”

“Her progress is astounding, but there is nothing unnatural. Possibly a true genius of the martial persuasion. There are legends, but it is hard to separate fact from fiction from the historical record,” she replied. I needed to ask Mousethief where he found Mes. I made a mental note to remember that for later.

“Such impressive words for a recently promoted Journeymouse. I hear you have accepted Southpaw’s offer to go with him after your first mission?” Maximilian asked me.

“Yes. I thought about it and Master Tom Cat approved. To let other creatures judge my ability without bias,” I responded.

“That is a good choice. I would have insisted if you hadn’t made the arrangements. While I have no doubt in your father’s ability, I believe only in tangible results. If you made a serious mistake, I have no doubt he would cover for you. The purpose of the rank of Journeymouse is to confirm your capabilities beyond any doubt for independent action.” He paused and I took that as my cue to speak up.

“I agree and have every bit of confidence in myself that I will succeed. While the training Master Tom Cat has put me through under his tutelage as my Master has been very intense, it has also helped me improve by quite a bit,” I replied.

“Excellent. I always like it when a successful legacy carries forward. Gary is from a long line of successful Master Assassins and Veronica is doing quite well out East,” High Cleric Maximilian said. “Have you ever considered having a kitten or two?” Maximilian asked me. I was a bit taken aback by the question. I noticed my father freeze at that question and go very still.

“I have not. For now, I just want to focus on my job as an assassin,” I replied.

“You know your father’s father was quite impressive,” Maximilian said, and my father’s eyes narrowed slightly. I could feel an increasing sense of danger from him. “You have something to add Tom Cat?” He looked at my father as if daring him to say something.

“My father did his duty. But Mittens future is untainted and her own,” he replied, holding back a snarl. High Cleric Maximilian casually picked up his glass of wine, swirled it and took a small drink.

“You said you wanted to retire in a year. I think you should keep working for another decade at least. A cat of your talents. A storied legacy. A shame to let it waste away,” High Cleric Maximilian countered. I didn’t understand this conversation and decided to do something a bit daring.

“What is this about Master Assassin Gary?” I asked the older mouse at the other end of the table. Everyone froze and he let out a sigh.

“The cats have always committed to having one serve since they submitted to the Covenant Church. The Covenant Church, or at least a faction within it, believes in bloodlines. With your strength, they want you to leave a legacy. Your father has insisted they don’t pressure you about such things. As for your grandfather. He killed your family on your mother’s side for heresy against the Covenant Church.”

“Normally Assassins are not sent against members of their own species. But the High Cleric before Maximilian insisted. He increased tensions that should not be increased. The High Cleric was given a vote of no confidence by the Master Assassins after your grandfather perished in mysterious circumstances, not long after.”

“What the High Cleric is insinuating, they believe your father killed his father, but even worse, he killed a Master Assassin of this organization and is putting pressure on him, he should not be without proof,” Gary said sternly.

“My apologies. There is a lot of pressure, incidents have been increasing. I forgot myself,” High Cleric Maximilian replied calmly. My father sent a mangled fork on the table. Paladin Bloodclaw just let out a soft snort. Doctor Sharpeyes gave me a wink and a smile. The rest of the meal proceeded in silence as I tried to process everything I had just learned.