Master petted me on the head, his hand warm and steady, and the touch sent that familiar euphoric rush straight through me. “Master,” I murmured, “I’m right here. Always right here with you.”

He headed outside without another word and I stayed glued to him, moving in perfect step as we left the inn behind. The evening air hit us immediately, warm and heavy with the scent of damp jungle earth, salt from the distant sea, and the sharp sweetness of night blooming flowers opening in the cooling tropical air. The sun had already dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and violet over the canopy. Shadows stretched long across the bailey, and the new wooden palisades cast dark lines over the fresh earthworks. A few torches were being lit along the walls, their flickering light catching on the mismatched armour of the remaining Vanguard sentries who barely glanced our way as we passed.

We collected the two surviving locals on the way out. They had already changed into the stolen Vanguard gear, the copper iron alloy armour that gleamed dully in the fading light, stronger than either metal alone and known only to their order. The plates fitted them poorly but the weapons they carried looked right: short swords and kite shields marked with the Vanguard’s simple crest. They looked nervous but followed without argument when Master gestured, falling in behind us as we slipped out through a side gate and into the jungle beyond the village.

The path narrowed quickly once we left the cleared ground. Thick vines hung like curtains from the tall palms and broad leafed trees, their leaves still dripping from an earlier rain. The air grew thicker with humidity and the constant hum of insects. My cat vision cut through the growing darkness easily, picking out every root and low branch as we moved. The ground was soft underfoot, carpeted with fallen fronds and dark soil that smelled rich and alive. The whole place felt alive in a way the marshes never did, hotter, wilder, more untamed.

We followed the eastern treeline for nearly half an hour, the path widening slightly where the Vanguard had clearly been using it for patrols. The jungle here was denser, with thick stands of bamboo and hanging vines that brushed against my tunic as we passed. 

We slowed, moving off the path into the cover of the trees. Through the leaves I could make out the patrol clearly now, five Vanguard soldiers walking in loose formation along the trail, their copper iron armour catching the last of the light. They looked relaxed, weapons slung casually, talking among themselves as they moved. One carried a torch that cast flickering shadows across the path ahead of them. The jungle pressed in close on either side here, the undergrowth thick enough that an ambush would be easy if we wanted it. The air smelled of wet leaves and the faint smoke from their torch.

I stayed right at Master’s side, tail coiled firmly around him, ears flat against my head as I watched the patrol approach. My claws flexed once, ready. These were the same kind of men who had taken the village, the same kind who thought they could claim what wasn’t theirs. 

Master raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt flew true with a critical hit and two of the patrol went down right away, one with the bolt buried in his chest, the other in a vital area. They collapsed immediately on the path.

Despite the darkness, the remaining three knew roughly where we were. One shouted, “Ambush ! In the trees !” They turned and started moving towards our position, weapons ready, one of them aiming in our general direction.

I decided to attack. These were threats to Master, invaders who had taken what wasn’t theirs. I charged forward with my iron spear, tail lashing in aggression, ears flat against my head. As I moved beyond five feet, the bonded soul disconnected, and mass panic hit me hard, a sudden intense fear and instability, like losing the bond entirely, my heart pounding and thoughts racing with panic. 

My first hit killed one of them instantly, the spear thrusting deep. My second hit wounded another badly, a deep gash that sent him down in pain but didn’t kill him. The last one was downed by the two locals who stood their ground with us and struck him down. They didn’t charge in, just held position and helped finish the fight.

All the Vanguard were dead. I returned to within five feet of Master, the panic easing as the bond snapped back into place. I clung hard to him, tail wrapping tight around his waist, ears perking as the relief and euphoria from the victory for him flooded through me. “Master, I did it for you. No one gets close to you.”

The two locals stood with us, not charging in. They looked angry, stripping the equipment from the bodies and discussing in low voices how to hide them, wrapping them or dragging them into the undergrowth to avoid drawing more attention. They didn’t push forward or attack anyone else, just focused on covering their tracks.

Master spoke while glancing at the bodies on the ground. “Don’t worry about hiding them, let’s head back now.” He threw a set of the copper iron alloy armour my way, then started putting some on himself. The plates were heavier than they looked, the special mixture stronger than copper or iron alone. “Seriously tuck your tail in so it literally can’t even move a single inch whilst your ears are flattened by the helmet.”

I caught the armour without hesitation, my tail lashing once in raw excitement before I forced it to obey. I coiled my tail as tightly as I could and tucked it under the armour plating, securing it so it couldn’t shift even a fraction of an inch, completely immobilised, just as he ordered. The helmet went on next, flattening my ears completely against my head until they couldn’t twitch or flick at all. The dark blue leather collar around my throat stayed hidden beneath the alloy, but I felt it like a constant claim.

I stayed right at Master’s side as we started back toward the bailey. “Yes, Master,” I said. “Your kitten obeys completely. Tail tucked so it can’t move, ears hidden. No one will see anything but what you want them to see. This is ours now, the disguise, the room, everything.”

The bailey gates came into view through the trees, the motte rising above it with its fresh wooden keep. 

We headed towards the gate guards as the evening settled into full night, the bailey walls rising ahead like a dark silhouette against the fading sky. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth from the fresh motte and the smoke from torches being lit along the palisades. Shadows stretched long across the cleared ground, and the jungle beyond whispered with the sounds of night insects and distant calls. My tail was tucked in so tightly under the stolen copper iron alloy armour that it couldn't shift even a fraction of an inch, a constant pressure that reminded me of Master's command with every step. My ears were flattened completely beneath the helmet, the restriction making sounds muffled yet somehow more intense, as if the whole world was pressing in closer. The disguise held, the Vanguard plates feeling foreign but effective, hiding everything that marked me as his kitten.

The guards at the gate watched us approach, their eyes scanning the group in the torchlight. There was a heavy tension in the air, the kind that comes after violence has already happened nearby. They looked us over carefully, hands near their weapons, the darkness making their faces hard to read but their postures alert. One stepped forward slightly, squinting at the armour and the way we moved. For a long moment it felt like they might stop us, question the timing or the way the locals behind us carried themselves. But they just waved us through with a nod, no words exchanged. The disguise had worked perfectly. No one suspected a thing about who we really were.

We passed through the gate without issue, the heavy wooden barrier closing behind us with a solid thud that echoed in the evening air. The bailey inside felt different now that we were back within its walls, still subdued from the takeover, but with patrols moving and lights flickering in the new structures. The helmet kept my ears hidden and flat, but I could feel the pressure of it, a reminder of his control that made me want to stay even closer. No one stopped us or asked questions. 

We headed towards the storehouse by the walls, a sturdy wooden building tucked against the inner palisade near one of the gates. It was clearly one of the newer structures the Vanguard had thrown up or taken over, with reinforced doors and a simple, functional design meant for quick storage rather than comfort. The exterior was plain timber, marked with their basic crest, and it sat in a spot where supplies could be moved easily in or out of the bailey. Torches nearby cast just enough light to show the area was active but not heavily guarded at this hour, a couple of sentries patrolled nearby but didn't pay us much attention as we approached.

Inside, the storehouse was dim and practical, lit by a few hanging lanterns that threw long shadows across the space. Crates and barrels were stacked in rows along the walls, some marked with crude labels for weapons, food supplies, and other gear the Vanguard had looted or brought in. The air smelled of wood, metal, and the faint tang of preserved rations. It wasn't large, just big enough for a small village's worth of stores but it was well organised in a military way, with paths between the piles for easy access. A few Vanguard men were inside sorting through boxes, their voices low as they worked, but they glanced at us and then went back to their tasks without challenge. The place felt like a hub for their control over the village, stocked with what they had taken to sustain their hold.

Three Vanguard soldiers were inside, positioned in a loose triangle that covered the main areas. One stood near the entrance, sorting through a small crate of tools and spare arrowheads, his back half turned to us but his head lifting slightly as we entered. Another was in the middle of the room, shifting larger barrels with a grunt, these looked like they held dried meats and root vegetables, the kind of basic rations that would last in the island heat. The third was at the far end near a rack of weapons, checking the edges on a stack of short swords and crossbows, his posture relaxed but alert. 

Equipment was everywhere, stacked in organised rows that spoke of recent looting and quick stockpiling. Crates along the left wall held bundles of spears and swords. Barrels and sacks near the centre were marked crudely for grain and preserved fish, while smaller boxes on the right contained armour pieces, extra plates, helmets, and straps that hadn't been issued yet. A rough wooden table near the back held what looked like supply logs and maps, the papers weighted down with a dagger. The whole place felt like a forward cache built to support their expansion, nothing fancy but efficient enough to keep their hold on the village. The two locals who had come with us in their own stolen gear hung back near the door, standing guard without charging in or speaking, their eyes on the room but their bodies tense.

We were still inside the storehouse when Master moved. He attacked one of the guards with his sword, and the man dropped instantly, blood spreading fast across the packed earth floor. The other two started to react, hands going for weapons, but I was already there.

I surged forward without hesitation, my body moving on pure instinct despite the heavy copper iron alloy armour weighing on me. My spear flashed once, driving straight through the second guard’s chest in a single, lethal thrust. He went down hard, eyes wide with shock. The third tried to bring his blade up, but I was already on him, the spear striking again with brutal speed and burying deep. He dropped without a sound, body hitting the floor beside the others.

All three Vanguard were dead in seconds. The room fell silent except for the soft sound of blood pooling and the distant creak of the wooden beams overhead. The dim lantern light cast long shadows over the bodies and the scattered crates of weapons and supplies around us. The two locals who had come with us stood frozen near the door in their stolen armour, not charging in or saying a word, just watching with wide, uncertain eyes.

I turned straight back to Master, pressing myself hard against his side. “No one touches you, Master,” I said, voice low and fierce, fangs flashing as I nuzzled hard into his shoulder. “They were in our way, so I ended them.”

Master turned to the two locals who were still standing near the door in their stolen Vanguard armour. “I’m hoping that you can grab a handful of locals to get this armour on.”

The older one shifted uncomfortably and glanced at his companion before speaking. “We don’t actually know any resistance people. Most folks in the village are just trying to keep their heads down and survive. We acted on our own back at the inn because we saw a chance when those guards were distracted. There’s no organised group we can call on.”

I stepped forward slightly. They had started something bloody alongside us, and I wasn’t about to let them back out now.

I took control of the conversation, my voice low and commanding, fangs showing just enough to make the point clear. “That’s not acceptable. You started this mess with us, and now you’re going to finish it properly. Find people who hate these Vanguard enough to wear this armour and fight. I don’t care if they’re not part of some organised resistance, drag them here if you have to. If you can’t do that, then you’re no better than the ones we just killed upstairs.”

The two locals exchanged another nervous glance, clearly rattled. The younger one spoke this time, his voice quieter and more careful. “There are a few people in the village who’ve been grumbling about the taxes and the way the Vanguard are taking everything. Some families near the southern edge who lost sons when they started conscripting. We could try talking to them… but they’re not fighters. They’re just scared and angry.”

I didn’t back down. “Then make them fighters. Or find others who will. We need numbers in this armour before the Vanguard realise their patrol is missing. You have until we decide what to do next. Don’t disappoint Master.”

The older local nodded quickly, looking properly cowed. “We’ll try. There’s a couple of men who used to hunt with us before the takeover. They might be willing if we promise them a share of whatever we take from the Vanguard. We can head out and see what we can find.”

Master spoke while turning to me, his voice low and decisive. “Well two choices my cat now, either one: me and you try to take out another group, or we head back to camp and come back another day. Maybe the locals might’ve done something by then.”

“Let’s take out another group, Master. Just you and me. I don’t want to wait. I want to be out there with you, killing for you, keeping everything that threatens you away. The locals can do whatever they want back at camp. I don’t care about them. I only care about being right here, right by your side, doing this with you.”

Master started walking straight towards the keep. The Vanguard guards at the entrance barely gave us a second glance as we approached. The disguise held. They stepped aside without a word, letting us through the wooden gates like we were just more of their own returning from a shift.

We walked straight in unspotted.

The keep itself was smaller than I expected from the outside, just a squat wooden structure built on the motte, with narrow corridors and low ceilings that forced us to move single file in places. Lanterns burned low along the walls, casting long shadows across the rough timber. The air smelled of oil, damp wood, and the faint trace of old blood from whatever skirmishes had happened during the takeover. It felt too quiet for a place that should have been bustling with their men, but the handful of Vanguard we passed in the corridors only nodded in our direction before continuing on their way. No one stopped us. No one questioned us.

I stayed glued to Master, one hand lightly resting on his arm as we moved deeper inside. Then his thought came through the bond, clear and calm. Guess we’re already too far in right now.

We moved deeper into the keep, the wooden structure creaking softly under our boots as we climbed the narrow stairs. It wasn’t the grand stone fortress I’d half expected from the outside, just a tall, functional style tower of thick oak beams and planking, built quick and solid on the motte after the invasion. Four levels in total, each one smaller than the last. The bottom floor had been a storage and guard room, the one above it a cramped hall with a hearth and a few benches. Higher up were smaller chambers for sleeping or holding supplies, and the top was little more than a watch platform with a ladder to the roof. No grand lord’s solar or vast chambers, just practical spaces for whoever was in charge to sleep, plan, and watch the bailey below. The air smelled of fresh cut timber and the faint metallic tang of the copper iron alloy weapons leaning in racks along the walls.

Master led the way and I stayed right against him, my body pressed close even in the stolen Vanguard armour. My tail was still tucked in so tightly beneath the plates that it couldn’t move even a fraction of an inch, and my ears stayed flattened completely under the helmet. The restriction felt strange now that we were alone in the quiet upper levels, no one had stopped us on the way up. The few Vanguard we’d passed in the lower corridors had simply nodded and stepped aside, too used to their own kind moving about at night. The disguise was holding perfectly.

We stopped on the third level, in a small side chamber off the main stairs, a private enough spot with a single narrow window overlooking the bailey and a heavy wooden door that could be pushed mostly shut. It wasn’t the top floor or the roof, just a quiet alcove with a table, a couple of chairs, and a low cot against the wall. No one was using it right now. The keep felt half empty at this hour, most of the remaining Vanguard either on the walls or out in the camps.

Master turned to me once we were inside and started unfastening the armour. Piece by piece he worked it off me, the breastplate first, then the pauldrons, the vambraces, the greaves, his hands steady and sure. The moment the last plate came away and the helmet lifted from my head, I let out a soft, involuntary sound. My ears sprang up immediately, twitching with relief as the pressure finally eased. My tail uncoiled from its tight tuck and gave a single, eager flick before settling into a slow, contented swish behind me. The freedom of it rushed through me all at once, and I couldn’t stop the small, giddy laugh that bubbled up.

I pressed straight into him the second I was free, my body moulding against his without the bulky armour between us. The dark red tunic felt light and familiar again, and I nuzzled hard into his chest, purring low and instinctive. My tail curled around his leg in a possessive loop, and I rubbed my cheek against him once, twice, the cat in me rising up without thought, scent marking, claiming, needing the contact after being so restricted. It felt good. Too good. 

Master watched me for a moment, his expression shifting into something between amusement and mild exasperation as he set the last piece of armour aside. He opened his mouth, seemed to search for the right words, then fumbled. “You shouldn’t be so… like a cat, you know what I mean ?”

I looked up at him, still half pressed against his chest, tail swishing lazily now that it could move again. I finished the sentence for him without missing a beat, voice soft but edged with that dark, teasing intensity. “Like a cat ? Well, I am a cat, Master. Sort of.”

He gave a short huff of something that might have been a laugh, shaking his head once, but I didn’t pull away. I stayed right there, ears perked forward, tail still curling around his leg as if to anchor him in place. The helmet was gone, the armour was gone, and I felt lighter, freer, but also more me, the parts of me that had been hidden and squashed down for the disguise now loose and instinctive again. 

We didn’t linger long. Master gave a small nod toward the stairs once the moment passed, and we moved again, up this time, all the way to the top floor. The uppermost level was little more than a single chamber with a ladder leading to the roof platform above. It was quiet. Only two Vanguard stood guard near the ladder, leaning against the wall and talking in low voices. They didn’t even have time to turn properly.

I moved first, silent as only a cat can be. My feet made almost no sound on the wooden floor as I slipped behind the first one. My claws flashed once across his throat in a single, precise motion, quick, deep, final. He dropped. The second started to react, but Master was already there, steel sword sliding across his neck in one clean stroke. Both bodies slumped quietly to the floor. No alarm. No noise beyond the soft thud of dead weight.

We worked our way downward from there, level by level, moving like ghosts through the wooden keep. I took the lead on the silent kills ,slipping ahead on quiet feet, using the shadows and my natural instincts to get close before striking. Throat after throat. Quick. Clean. No chance for shouts or alarms. Master stayed close behind me, steel sword ready, covering the spaces I couldn’t reach as easily. The copper iron alloy armour the Vanguard wore was strong, but it didn’t matter when we caught them unprepared, sleeping, standing watch with their backs turned, or talking quietly in twos and threes. A spear or sword through the throat ended them before they could even raise a hand.

On the second level we found three more, two playing dice at a small table, one standing by the narrow window. I dropped the one by the window first, silent and swift. Master took the nearest at the table before he could stand. The last one managed half a shout before my spear took him. We dragged the bodies into the shadows and kept moving.

The lowest level was the largest, the old hall and storage area we’d passed on the way up. Four Vanguard remained there, two near the main door and two more sorting through crates near the back. We split them without mercy. I took the pair by the crates, dropping one instantly and wounding the second badly enough that Master finished him before he could make a sound. The last two by the door never even turned around.

By the time we reached the bottom again, the keep was silent. Every Vanguard inside was dead, throats slit, bodies hidden in corners or dragged out of sight. No alarms had been raised. The wooden structure creaked softly around us in the night, but nothing else stirred. We stood in the lowest chamber for a moment, both of us breathing a little harder, the air thick with the scent of blood. My tail had finally been free to move properly again after the armour came off, and it curled once around Master’s leg in quiet, possessive satisfaction as I stayed pressed close to him.

The keep was ours now. Silent. Cleared from top to bottom. And I was right where I belonged, at his side, ears perked and listening.

Master spoke as we stood among the bodies in the lowest level of the keep, his voice calm but decisive. “Well, we said we’d be back by sunrise and taking the guards on the walls will take an open fight, too many, too close. I do wonder how the locals are doing with raising troops and using the Vanguard’s equipment. Who knows, maybe they’ll finish the rest. But come now, I think it’s time we leave via the gate without hassle and just start heading back towards camp.”

I nuzzled hard into his shoulder, fangs grazing the edge of his own armour as I purred low and dark against him. “As you say, Master. Back to camp it is. The locals had better not waste what we started for them… but if they do, we’ll just come back and finish it ourselves. Together.”.

We made our way back down the stairs and towards the main gate without issue. The few Vanguard still moving about in the lower levels barely glanced our way, the disguise had done its job earlier, and with the keep already cleared by our silent work, the remaining men seemed more focused on their own duties than questioning two more figures heading out. The gate guards let us pass with nothing more than a nod, the heavy wooden barrier swinging open just enough for us to slip through into the night. The evening air outside hit cooler against my skin now that the armour was gone, carrying the scents of damp jungle earth, distant sea salt, and the faint smoke from the bailey’s torches.