Dax had seen a few punchable faces in his time. Hell, Nyq was a prime example and he hadn’t decked that skeevy little shit. His restraint, however, was being tested like an ogre’s belt after devouring its third cow. The look of abject scorn written across the pompous elf’s face made him wonder how much a couple of elf ears fetched on the black market these days. He managed to keep his expression carefully neutral, despite the satisfying mental image of haggling for silvers with Reverend Fraud down at the Church of Tangible Benefits.
While the Duke and the Sergeant stood there, sizing one another up, the kneeling figures scattered across the lobby rose to their feet. The trumpeteers immediately began to play a slow, stately waltz that transformed the frantic tumblers into a troupe of ballroom dancers. The elves dressed in leotards swayed and spun in time with the music, weaving their way through the scattered members of the Watch who were trying, unsuccessfully, to get back to work.
One person that did manage to get back to work was the Duke’s majordomo. Once he arrived at Prisee’s side, the aging retainer spoke for his lord in a voice that dripped with disdain. “His Grace, the Duke Prisee Summerson, has seen fit to personally collect his daughter, and her cousin, from the Watch’s custody. You will relinquish them at once.”
“I’m not going back to Sylvareth, you shriveled up old turd,” Margo said, her shrill voice slicing through the air like a vorpal sword through butter. The erstwhile prisoner grew louder and more animated as she spoke, “I’m a free woman. I don’t need your mansion, or your money. You can all march back up the tree and leave me alone. When you get home, send down three of my maids, the golden carriage, and my bedroom suite from the winter house.”
Before Margo could go any farther, Zif raised his hand and interjected, “I would like a ride home. At your earliest convenience, Your Grace. Perhaps with a light repast on the way? I’ve not had any caviar since breakfast this morning and the ‘water’ they offered us here wasn’t even properly sourced from a mana spring. The service overall has been quite lacking. I give my experience here a 2/10 and I will not be back.”
Dax slowly turned toward the two elven prisoners. Zif immediately shuffled his way behind Margo to escape the dour expression on the Sergeant’s face.. Zif didn’t even try to meet Dax’s eyes when he spoke in a subdued tone, “I’m sure the employees are not at fault for the lack of amenities. They strike me as dedicated, hardworking individuals who make the most of the tiny budget at their disposal.”
“Tell me how my daughter ended up in your custody, human.” Duke Prisee said, lending his voice to the conversation for the first time. The noble’s voice held an air of dignified weariness, as if this entire ordeal was too tiresome to deserve his attention. At his words, the sour old elf by his side rapped the butt his long wooden staff against the floor.
Dax swiveled back to face the Duke. This time he didn’t bother hiding his frustrated scowl when he met the haughty elf’s gaze. “It’s no more accurate to call me ‘human’ than it would be to refer to you as ‘elf’, Your Grace.” The frigid tone of his voice caused the majordomo to visibly bristle with indignation. Before the lackey could respond, Dax continued in a curtly professional tone that he’d refined during his military service. “I am Watch Sergeant Dax Sol’Magor. With me are Detectives Olivia Dyer and Nyq Nack. My team and I were called in to address a hostage situation involving a goat…”
That was as far as Dax got before Margo explosively interrupted his official recounting of the incident. “They shot me in the ass!”
“Us,” Zif chimed in from where he still hid behind his cousin, “They shot us in the ass with some kind of dart.”
“The shady looking short guy did it. It didn’t hurt because of the poison, but it was super embarrassing,” Margo continued in an aggrieved tone. Behind her, all the color had drained from Nyq’s face. The rogue began to furtively look for avenues of escape while the young elven woman continued, “The worst part was that we didn’t even save the goat. The poor thing! It's probably already rotting in the guts of one of the disgusting carnivores that live down here.”
Refusing to let his stoic facade slip, Dax watched the Duke tilt his head quizzically in light of these new revelations while the ancient elf by his side grew apoplectic with indignation. “You shot a Lady of Sylvareth?,” the gray beard hissed like an angry tea kettle.
“She wasn’t a Lady when she got shot,” Dax replied in a frosty tone. “She was a criminal that had just fired a 33 manavolt Wand of Lightning. Twice. Each bolt destroyed a local business, doing hundreds of gold in damages.”
Dax struggled to keep the smug smile from his lips when he saw the Duke’s brows knit in consternation at the mention of monetary damages. He knew it wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket for one of the noble families that liked to sail their fleet of super yachts up and down the coast of Lake Arnquet, but it would ruffle some feathers when they had to debase themselves by buying a new fruit cart for the local rabble. Gods forbid their wealth be funneled into local businesses instead of wherever they bought their mana spring water.
“It wasn’t my fault, daddy!,” the Lady in question said in a plaintive whine that sounded much more like a spoiled child than a refined member of the peerage. “The wand you gave me was defective. Mummy told you not to buy anything from those dirty dwarves and she was right. Never trust anyone with dirt on their hands or coppers in their pocket, that’s what she always says.”
Like a griffon pouncing on a particularly plump sheep, Dax latched onto this new revelation. “So you were aware that your daughter was in possession of a military grade wand?”
“Any private citizen found in possession of a military grade wand can be charged with felony unlawful armament,” Olivia provided helpfully. The slender woman with fiery red hair stood at attention behind the prisoners, still as a stone with her hands clasped behind her back. She was a marked contrast to the way Nyq kept fidgeting beside her. “Information on the merchant that provided the illegal arms could sway the court toward leniency,” she said, the very image of consummate professionalism.
“Well there you have it,” Dax drawled, ignoring the way Margo’s face twisted as if she’d swallowed a bug. She wasn’t the only elf that betrayed a hint of trepidation. Zif was dry washing his hands and edging his way slowly toward the Duke while the majordomo looked to be preparing to assault the Sergeant with his staff.
“You dare threaten a noble family of Sylvareth with this slander? Have you taken leave of your senses, human?” The old elf swallowed any further criticism when the Duke lifted an open palm.
“I think you will find that the law you refer to is a law for commoners, Sergeant. Of which, I am not. Nor is my daughter. Sylvareth has joined hands with Dalthan’s Rest in the name of proper policing, it is true, but you will find that the elven nobility is exempt from those laws. And, really, any laws we choose to be.” As the Duke spoke, he made a casual gesture toward the lobby around them with a flip of his wrist. “Did you really think that those of our exalted status would be bound by the same rules as the common riff raff? Preposterous.”
It’d been worth a shot. He didn’t really think he’d get the Duke to spill the beans about his private arms dealer, but then, he never thought he’d be in a room with elven royalty either. “Its unfortunate that you’re unwilling to cooperate with us, Duke Prisee, but there is little I can do to compel you. Now if you are willing to offer reparation for the considerable property damage that Margo and Zif…”
Suddenly the lobby was plunged into darkness. Not just a shadowy darkness, but a thick, soupy blackness that extinguished every mage globe in the lobby and blocked out the sunlight streaming in through the building’s numerous windows. Startled murmurs soon gave way to angry cries as the elven dancers crashed into people they could no longer see.
“Starlight protocol!,” Dax barked into the infinite black hanging over the room like a funeral shroud. As he bellowed, his hand was already taking hold of the round tree and scroll badge issued to every officer of the Watch. A quick twist turned the dial hidden in the frame two clicks clockwise. Pale white light blossomed from his badge like the faint glow of a twinkling star. A heartbeat later, scattered pools of wane light began to appear across the lobby as more and more officers activated their standard issue artifact.
A quick check on Olivia and Nyq showed that they’d ignited their badges as well, bathing themselves, and their prisoners, in silvery light. Olivia had already drawn her service wand and moved to flank Margo and Zif. Nyq took a stance on the other side with a tiny blowgun twirling through his long fingers.
“What is going on?,” Duke Prisee complained, his immediate area lit by his majordomo’s staff and surrounded by the deadly elven Enforcers. “I will be quite cross if whatever this is delays our return. I have a mud bath and a massage scheduled.”
Before Dax could tell him where he could stick his mud bath, a drum roll thundered through the chamber with teeth rattling intensity. The crash of an invisible cymbal announced the flash of a beam of light that cut through the darkness like a rookie adventurer carving through a nest of slimes. Illuminated by the inexplicable pillar of light was a raised wooden dais with a sleek, black feline beastkin standing upon it.
“What the fu….,” Nyq began, though the rest of his words were swept away by the rolling tide of the cat person’s voice when he spoke.
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“Greetings and salutations good people of the Watch!,” like an actor upon a stage, the beastkin swept one furry arm wide to gesture toward his audience. In reply, the members of the Watch politely took aim at the speaker. Nonplussed, the beastkin swept the wide brimmed hat from his head in a dignified motion that sent the large feather pinned to it waving in the air.
“My name is Tybalt. Some call me The Prince of Cats,” said the mysterious figure in a voice that caressed the ears like crushed velvet sliding against bare skin.
“...Who?” Dax heard a bewildered Olivia ask. He could only shrug in mutual confusion.
The slender beastkin wore a loose white shirt with ruffles along the wrists and collar. From Tybalt’s left hip hung a rapier with an ornate basket around its hilt. Against his right hip lay a crystalline wand that glittered with all the colors of the rainbow.
“It has come to my attention that the fair city of Dalthan’s Rest is playing host to an august personage this afternoon. I suppose that would be Duke Prisee Summerson hiding over there behind his bodyguards.”
The ray of light illuminating the self-styled King of Cats abruptly vanished like a spotlight being cut at the end of a play. A low thrum of murmured conversation immediately arose in the still dark lobby, but before an evacuation could commence another brilliant beam of light sparked to life. Just as before, the beastkin stood in the center of the illuminated circle, basking in the attention of the crowd. Only this time, he was close enough to Dax that the sergeant could nearly touch his sleek black fur.
“Forgive me for the intrusion, Watch Sergeant Dax,” Tybalt purred. “You are well respected among my compatriots, The Feline League Under Flags of Friendship. Our brotherhood does not wish to be at odds with the Watch, you see. Our quarrel is with the elves and the tyranny of Sylvareth.”
“FLUFF. The name of your organization is FLUFF?,” Dax said incredulously.
“Quite so!,” Tybalt agreed with an eager nod. “I see that your investigative prowess is as capable as advertised, Watch Sergeant.”
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Dax replied mournfully. He took a deep, calming breath before he spoke again in a more authoritative tone. “Alright. You’ve had your fun. Get down off that box and tell your people to turn the lights back on.”
“Alas, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Tybalt said with a martyr’s sigh. “As much as it pains me to deny your request, my people are committed to making sacrifices for the greater good. You see, the first step in any negotiation is to prove that you are a threat to the other party’s interests. If you can’t do that, you can never bargain from a position of parity.”
The implicit threat was enough to make the elven Enforcers surrounding the Duke tighten their formation. Unperturbed, Tybalt continued to monologue as any good villain should. “The elves of Sylvareth are under the impression that they are simply beyond the reach of any danger. I’m here to provide a teaching moment to disabuse them of that misconception.”
“Sergeant…,” Olivia murmured while she held her wand with the steady hand of a decorated sniper. The 9 mana volt wand of Magic Missile was a far cry from the 50 mana volt Staff of Destruction she’d used in the service, but that wouldn’t stop the woman from incapacitating her target in a single shot. The order to fire, or lack thereof, was the only thing that kept her trigger finger still.
“What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Tybalt? We don’t have to do this with wands out and swords drawn. We can all sit down at a table and discuss things like civilized sapient beings.” Dax kept his eyes focused on the beastkin while the pools of light marking other officers of the watch drew closer to the Prince of Cats in an ever tightening net.
“Civilized?,” Tybalt scoffed, “You I would consider civilized but the elves? Look at the Duke. A scion of a mighty house who moves nations from his throne among the lofty branches of the World Tree. And yet…”
“And yet,” Tybalt continued after taking a shuddering breath. When he spoke there was a firm note of steel in his voice that sent alarm bells ringing in Dax’s mind. “The man has not taken a single step to protect his daughter. HIs own flesh and blood. If the elves care so little for their own, imagine how dismissive they are of all of you.”
“You would never dare to lay one of your grubby little paws on my daughter,” Duke Prisee sneered, his words coated with enough acid to melt steel. “I tire of these games. Enforcers, apprehend that madman. We’ll make an example out of him for threatening my child.”
“Wait,” Dax said as he felt the moment beginning to spin out of control, like a top tilting off its axis.
The Enforcers lunged forward, gliding through the space separating them from their target like a blustery wind whipping through an autumn forest. But no matter how fast the wind blows it can never capture a shadow. Long before they reached the Prince of Cats, he’d faded into the darkness like a ghost returning to its den. Long swords slashed at the empty air though Tybalt was nowhere to be seen.
“Behind us!,” Dax barked, though he already knew they were too late. As he pivoted he saw the cat step out of the darkness behind Margo. Zif recoiled, diving to the side as the beastkin leveled his prismatic wand at Lady Summerson.
“What…,” The beautiful young elf gasped as her gaze met Dax’s. For a single fluttering heartbeat he could see the fear blossoming in her eyes like a moonflower unfurling its delicate petals at midnight.
Then a flash of light engulfed the young woman.
“Remember,” spoke Tybalt’s ethereal voice. Though there was no sign of the Prince of Cats, his words seemed to come from every corner of the chamber. “If FLUFF can reach a Duke’s daughter, we can reach anyone.”
Lights were sparking to life above him and sunlight began to stream through the front windows for the first time since Tybalt’s bombastic arrival. Dax saw none of it. His attention was focused on a pile of black clothes that lay on the floor where Margo had stood.
“He disintegrated her,” Nyq said, his voice trembling with the shock that shone in his wide eyes. “That cat bastard disintegrated her.”
“I should have taken the shots. Gods take me, but I was too slow.” Olivia said, her stoic features giving no hint about the emotion that lurked beneath the surface.
“You let her die!,” the Duke’s majordomo screamed as he struck Dax with the staff in his hands. The first strike glanced off the tall man’s shoulder but the next caught him square in the ribs in a bruising smack. “All you did was stand there and talk. Why did you not stop him?”
“Wait,” Dax murmured, his emerald eyes fixed on the abandoned clothes.
Dax caught the staff the next time it swung his way with casual ease. He tore it from the old elf’s hands and cast it aside even as he stepped toward the rumpled clothes. Zif was retreating, looking pale and queasy as he stumbled away from Margo’s remains. Paying no mind to the elf retching nearby, Dax lowered himself to one knee.
With a careful touch he lifted the shirt Margo had worn. When he moved the thin fabric to the side, Olivia gasped and Nyq made a choked noise that sounded like an aborted laugh. Everyone else standing nearby fell completely silent.
Gently taking hold of the scruff of her neck, Dax lifted an adolescent kitten, her fur as white as new fallen snow. The tiny cat mewled plaintively as she curled herself into a ball with her tail tucked between her legs.
“Margo?,” Dax asked experimentally, turning the kitten from side-to-side to examine it. “Is that you?”
In reply, the feline unsheathed its claws and slashed the tip of his nose.
“Sonofa…” Dax cursed as he lifted his free hand to rub at his wounded nose. “Here,” he said, turning toward the elven entourage. “Take your daughter.”
As one, the entire elven contingent took a step back from him as he brandished a yowling kitten.
“I’m afraid that we will have to entrust Lady Summerson to your care until her condition is rectified,” the majordomo said as he waved his staff warningly in Dax’s direction.
Margo the Cat had managed to twist around until she could sink her remarkably sharp fangs into the meat of Dax’s hand just below his thumb.
“Would you quit!,” the Sergeant roared, to which Margo hissed and swiped impotently towards his face. “She’s your daughter,” Dax growled, losing patience with the entire situation as the elves retreated from him again.
The Duke, sensing Dax’s growing agitation, cleared his throat. “Most elven lineages have removed themselves from contact with lower creatures for generations. My family is no exception. While the strategy has kept us safe from diseases they carry, it has had the unforeseen consequence of reducing our resistance to their natural biology.”
The sergeant could only blink in silent reply as he tried to unravel the Duke’s nonsense. Margo, already knowing the answer, declined to give him a hint and instead set about gnawing on his thumb in earnest.
“So. You’re saying,” Nyq said thoughtfully as he came to his boss’ rescue, “that you’re allergic to cat dander?”
The silence was so deafening that everyone could hear Margo’s muted growls as she worried at Dax’s skin with her sharp, pointy teeth.
“You gotta be shitting me.” Dax said, so befuddled that all thoughts of decorum vanished from his mind.
The Duke visibly winced, but then inclined his head fractionally in acknowledgement. “I believe that’s the proper term among those who live on the ground.”
“In that case, we’re going to need a food dish, a water bowl, and a scratching post. We’ll need a litter box, for sure, it’d be scandalous to have an elven lady doing her business outside where anyone could see.” Olivia listed off the necessities while the sergeant stared at the Duke in silent accusation.
“Feel free to send my household a bill for all the necessary amenities.” The Duke said, magnanimously as he began to back his way down the carpet of flower petals on his way toward the door. “Nothing less than the very finest for my daughter.”
An explosive sneeze drew everyone’s attention to where Zif was working his way toward the Duke’s entourage while giving Dax and Margo the Cat a wide birth. “Wait for me!,” he cried, breaking into a desperate run as the trumpeteers began to exit the barracks.
“Look at it this way, Sarge,” Nyq said brightly as he watched Margo savagely chew on Dax’s thumb. “There’s no way the Captain can blame all this on your bad luck, right?”
“...right?”