We headed into the sandstone tower, the familiar scent of damp stone and fresh cut timber wrapping around us as we moved inside. Master took a seat without hesitation, grabbing the tea pot and adding in some embercrack tea leaves before setting it to boil. “So the merchants want a further agreement with us ? Is that it ?”

They answered, going on about the Order of the Oak, their culture of sacrifice and vigilance, their assets in the West Forest, their history after the Eternal Hero, and how they’d formed that controversial alliance in Northpoint. Then they brought up the raids from the east, how those threats were hitting their interests and stability on the island, and how they were seeking assistance, from Clan Bogclutch or the Vanguard or both, to deal with it all.

I commented right after, my tail giving a slow, smug swish behind me as I stayed pressed against Master’s side, ears perked with that possessive edge. We had the tower now. They had abandoned it and we had claimed it. “They need us more than we need them. The tower is ours. If they want help, they can ask for it properly.”

The tea boiled soon enough. Master poured a cup for himself, drank some, then handed one to me. I downed it in one go, the heat barely registering as the caffeine hit like a storm. Everything sharpened at once, my tail started lashing wildly behind me, ears twitching and perking high, a manic rush flooding through my veins. I pressed harder against Master, nuzzling aggressively into his side, claws flexing as the yandere fire burned hotter and more unstable. “Master… this tea… it’s perfect. Everything feels so clear, so right. All of this — the tower, the victory, them needing us, it’s all for you. Only for you. No one else gets to touch what’s ours !”

They commented on my reaction, the lead merchant shifting uncomfortably while glancing at his companions. “She seems… affected. Is she alright ? The display is rather intense.”

Master didn’t comment. He just asked them again about further agreements, saying to pay no heed to his pet.

I reacted instantly to being called his pet, a fresh wave of euphoria crashing over the caffeine high. My tail coiled tight around his leg, ears pressing eagerly forward as I grabbed his hand and dragged it firmly to my head, nuzzling hard into his palm. “Pet your kitten, Master. Like a good cat deserves. More. Right here, in front of them. Show them who I belong to.”

They continued after that, the lead merchant clearing his throat and picking up where they’d left off about the raids and the Order, though their eyes kept flicking toward me with obvious unease.

I began stretching like a cat right there, wild and erratic, arching my back hard against his side before suddenly twisting and extending one arm out in a sharp, jerky motion. My tail lashed and curled unpredictably behind me, flicking one way then snapping the other as my ears twitched and flattened then perked again without any rhythm. The purring started deep in my chest but came out erratic too, loud and rumbling one second, then breaking into softer, uneven bursts before spiking again louder than before. It mixed with little possessive sounds I couldn’t quite hold back.

“Master…” I murmured. The merchants kept talking through it, though their voices had gone a bit more careful, glancing over now and then at the way I was moving and purring without any kind of control. One of them shifted in his seat but didn’t stop speaking about the Order’s history and the raids.

Next Master spoke. “I’ve told you, we won’t push against the order regardless if you think they’ll come after us next, although I’m sure they’re just like any other alderian group, power, corruption, nepalism and so forth but it isn’t in my personal interest, by all means though we’ll talk to them and increase further trade and co-operation between you and us, heck let’s even build a road between the tower and guardsville, that way it’ll only be an hour trip instead of a few hours, depending on the quality of course and if mounted even less time, anyways we’ll leave off with you tomorrow, for now spend the night, have some tea, relax.”

I reacted instantly to his words, the caffeine still burning wild through my veins. “Yes, Master…We won’t push the Order… but we’ll make them useful. Build the road… make it quick for us… keep them close but on your terms. The cats can have their time off… but I’m always right here. Everything for you.”

The lead merchant reacted to the whole scene with a smooth, cultured smile. “In the venerable tradition of the great merchant republics, where commerce and prudent alliances have long secured prosperity amid the shifting tides of power, we are most gratified by your gracious invitation and measured words. The prospect of a road linking our interests would indeed foster greater trade and mutual benefit, shortening journeys and binding our fortunes more closely. Regarding the Order of the Oak and the eastern raids, we perceive in your approach a wisdom that avoids unnecessary entanglements while opening avenues for cooperation. We would welcome the opportunity to discuss further arrangements, perhaps with the involvement of the Vanguard where prudent, to safeguard these vital routes and ensure stability for all parties concerned and we are charmed by the exotic spirit of your companions, as you so aptly described, finding in their presence a most intriguing element to any future dealings.”

Master spoke up, putting his feet up on the desk in front of him. “Mhm, I need Reville,” he said, then went on to describe her in detail, the timid catgirl survivor with her jack of all trades skills, her quiet tenacity and malnourished agility, her timid resilience and innocent presence that made her hard to read. He called out to the tiefling, Serepha Blacktallow, “Get her on the next boat out,” before turning back to the merchant guild. “So tell me about home.”

I reacted to it all with another wild, erratic stretch, my back arching suddenly before twisting in a jerky motion as my tail lashed out hard and then curled unpredictably around Master’s leg.  “Master… another cat ? You already have me… your kitten,” I murmured, voice thick and manic, claws lightly flexing on his arm. I grabbed his hand again, pressing it to my head. “Pet me like a good cat, Master. Like before. Right here.”

The merchants reacted to the whole display with eloquent and measured, like men used to navigating alliances where trade and subtle power wove everything together. The lead one cleared his throat, his voice smooth and cultured as he leaned back slightly. “Saltspire is a republic born of the sea and the will to trade freely, not unlike the great merchant republics of old where commerce bound more surely than swords. We are not all raiders, far from it. The League thrives on the flow of goods, the clever negotiation of terms, and the careful balance of power between its captains and councils. Our home is a place of opportunity for those with wit and ambition, where a well placed alliance can turn the tide of fortune. The Order of the Oak may loom in the east, but we seek stable partners to maintain the routes that feed our prosperity. Your proposal for the road is most welcome, a practical step that would bind our interests more closely. We would gladly discuss further cooperation, perhaps even assistance in dealing with those eastern threats, whether through Clan Bogclutch or with the Vanguard’s involvement where prudent. In the spirit of mutual benefit, we are open to arrangements that serve all parties.”

I reacted to their words with another erratic stretch. “They talk pretty, Master… but we have the tower. We decide what’s useful. A road could be good… quick trips for us… but only if it serves you. I’ll make sure they remember their place.”

Master listened calmly, then asked them again about further agreements.

The merchants continued, their tone still smooth and diplomatic, though their eyes kept flicking toward me with obvious unease at my erratic movements and purring. “Indeed, the tower’s status is central. We built it once, but see it now under your control. Trade, records, and permanence are our concern, a road would facilitate that, and assistance against the eastern raids would secure it. We can negotiate terms that benefit both sides.”

Master spoke then, his voice low and steady as he put his feet up on the desk, the tea steaming between us. “You know I’m from the west forest myself, the most recently colonised place in alderia, all trade from the capital to the other provinces used to run the long way around through mountains, hills and then into the flatlands and lakelands of serenity then they started colonising the west forest about 50 or so years ago, very wooded, bandits sprang up, renegade lords and small merchant republics that used the oak trade road to gain taxation and trade, in it they funded the oakwood vanguard, a private army built to protect the trade route from bandits and other enemies alike, warrants of arrest etc, etc, etc, then of course they grew powerful, others set up copy chapters and well here we are. Now we live in redstone and well redstone hold is a hold where ryth redstone was killed and vassals descended from clan redstone although clan redstone still likes to pretend its cut off lands are all together and that they still rule, house serrean of course just lets its region do whatever as long as it doesn’t rebel.”

I listened to every word “Your past is mine too, Master… all of it. The forests, the roads, the power struggles… we’ll make the future better. The merchants can help us with that road… but only on your terms. Everything for you.”

The merchants reacted to his words like men used to navigating republics where trade and subtle power wove everything together. The lead one leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth and cultured. “Your knowledge of the west forest and the oak trade road is most enlightening, Master. In the spirit of the great merchant republics of old, where commerce and prudent alliances have long secured prosperity amid the shifting tides of power, we see in your words a wisdom that aligns with our own desire for stability without unnecessary entanglements. The Order of the Oak may loom, but we seek partners who understand the balance of power, corruption, and the practical realities of rule. A road between the tower and Guardsville would indeed facilitate greater trade and mutual benefit, shortening journeys and binding our fortunes more closely. We would welcome further discourse on how Clan Bogclutch and the Valenti Guild might stand together to safeguard these vital routes and ensure stability for all parties concerned, assistance with the eastern raids or cooperation with the Vanguard where prudent would be most appreciated.”

“Another cat on the way and these merchants prattling about roads and republics... none of it matters unless it keeps you right here under me,” I hiss thickly, voice manic and dominant.

The merchants' smooth words blur into background noise, their uneasy glances only feeding my sly satisfaction, let them see how completely I own my master. “The road will serve your tower, your empire, quick ways for me to drag you back whenever I need... everything bends for us, Master. I'll make sure of it.”

 Master turns to the merchants. “So the goblins can take down a bunch of trees and work on a dirt path in the morning.”

The lead merchant leans forward with a measured smile that doesn't quite reach his calculating gaze. Beside him, his companion nods in sync. “Ah, the practical hand of progress. Goblins felling timber at dawn aligns well with the industrious spirit of our League, efficient, unburdened by needless ceremony. A dirt path may serve as the sturdy foundation, yet we envision flagstones in time, binding Saltspire’s trade veins to your tower with the reliability of our ancient sea routes. In the spirit of mutual prosperity, we shall dispatch a modest escort of guild guards to ensure the work proceeds unmolested by eastern raiders, and perhaps a surveyor to advise on the most advantageous alignment. The Valenti Guild stands ready to sweeten such labours with a shipment of iron tools and provisions, provided our captains see clear returns on the venture.”

I let out a low, unstable growl at their flowery offers “Goblins working at dawn... good, it keeps things moving for him, but those merchants think they can dangle escorts and tools like they own the path. I'll stalk their every move if they step too close to our tower. No one gets between us and what serves Master.” 

Master addresses the merchants directly. “So list everything you currently produce from guardsville which from my understanding is your only terrirory on the isle which of course you'd be willing to export with us and we'll come to an agreement.”

The lead merchant. “Precisely as you perceive, honoured ally,” the lead one replies, his voice rich with the polished cadence of old Saltspire guild halls, laced with pragmatic opportunism. “Guardsville, our modest jewel on this untamed isle, yields what the tropics deign to offer in these early days of discovery. We harvest sweet mangrove fruits and vibrant passion spices that tingle the tongue and preserve meats for long voyages, the pearl divers bring forth lustrous orbs from the sheltered coves, while our copra groves yield rich oils for lamps and soaps. Timber from the outer fringes, mahogany and ironwood, feeds our shipwrights, and the salt pans produce fine white crystals prized across the League. Fishing fleets return with silverfin and reef squid, smoked or salted for export, alongside rare tropical dyes from jungle blooms that fetch high prices in mainland markets. All this, and more as our outposts expand, we would gladly export under fair terms, perhaps a tithe of spices and pearls in exchange for protection against those damned Oak zealots raiding from the east, who burn our warehouses and scatter our workers like chaff. A mutual pact could see your goblins’ labour joined with our coin, strengthening the dirt path into something worthy of our shared prosperity.”

I let out a low, aggressive hiss at their list. “Timbers, fish, oils... they offer scraps from their little port while we hold the tower,” I murmur thickly against Master's ear. “Export it all if it fills your coffers, Master, but make them pay dearly, guards, resources, loyalty oaths. Nothing leaves without serving you completely. I'll watch every shipment myself if I must, shred anything that smells of betrayal.” 

and Master speaks again. “At the moment supply us with preservatives and iron materials as and when and then you can allow bogclutch merchants the ability to buy and sell themselves and decide what they want.”

“Preservatives and iron, you say, practical demands for a frontier power,” the lead one replies. “Our salt pans and smoked reef goods shall flow to your tower without delay, alongside what iron fittings and tools our forges can spare from mainland shipments. In return, opening the gates for Bogclutch merchants to trade freely in Guardsville aligns with the true spirit of the League, let their caravans bear cattail weaves, herbal remedies, and marsh timber in exchange for your spices and pearls. It binds our interests without the heavy hand of monopoly, allowing each to profit as the tides decree, while our shared watch against the Oak raiders keeps the routes secure. A most prudent foundation for greater pacts.”

“Now with that dealt with" Master says "stay the night and in theory it shouldn't take too long for goblins to pave a hour long trip into a path so maybe you can take the formation back. Of course in time we can strength it with whatever the time requires, i would also like to see the raids for myself. If anything we can come to an agreement in non declared bogclutch direct merc power.”

The lead merchant exchanges a quick glance with his companion before offering a measured bow. “A most generous proposal, one that honours the old republican ways of flexible alliance without banners unfurled,” he replies smoothly, fingers tracing the edge of a sealed parchment. “We shall remain the night under your tower’s hospitality, dispatching word to our captains at once. The goblins’ labour on the path will be met with our surveyors’ guidance come dawn, strengthening it as the seasons demand, stone where the tides allow, perhaps, or reinforced timber against the marsh rot. As for the eastern raids... observing them yourself would bind our causes tighter than any formal declaration. A quiet understanding with Bogclutch’s merc power serves us all, subtle coin and steel where needed, no open flags to draw the Oak’s full wrath. We toast to prosperous shadows this night.”

I let out an unstable little growl at their acceptance. “Staying the night means you're mine in this tower, Master, no slipping away to their ships or raids without me at your side. I'll stalk those Oak fools with you, rip them apart if they dare near. This non declared power, the paths, the trades... all of it feeds you, and I control what gets close. No one else.” 

My ears shoot straight up, twitching wildly as he calls out for her, the embercrack making every sound sharper and my blood burn hotter. Another female, tiefling or not called to his side ? My blue eyes narrow into dangerous slits.

He gives the orders clearly, voice carrying that commanding weight I crave. Serepha Blacktallow steps forward promptly from the shadows of the tower hall. “As you command, Master,” she replies in her smooth, adaptable tone, a flicker of obsessive diligence in her eyes. “I shall entertain our guests with the finest hospitality the tower can offer, warm meals from the kitchens, the best of our herbal wines, and tales of Mire Point’s growing strength to keep their minds engaged. The merchants will find themselves well looked after while you attend to... personal matters.” She flashes a quick knowing smile before turning to the traders with polished grace, already directing servants to prepare a private chamber below for their comfort.

I hiss sharply. “Entertaining them is fine, but she knows her place beneath you too,” I murmur thick and manic.

Once upstairs in the secluded rooms, door sealed behind us. “Finally alone, Master. No merchants, no tieflings, no distractions, just me.”

My ears flatten against my blonde hair as he moves to the arrow slits, peering out at the distant lights of Guardsville, his voice calm and strategic in the quiet of our personal quarters. “Calm will you, tomorrow’s going to be a long day, I want to see these so called raids myself and once the steward gets here we might even be able to direct some bogclutch refuguees this way or at the very least ship some of the unemployed hopeless this way to settle. I don’t wish to rely on imports too much from the mainland and I certainly don’t wish to direct out forces over this way. I’m sure the only reason clan redstone hasn’t moved on us yet is because of their own internal fighting but also because we’re highly militaried, 1 trained soldier per like 50 citizens which is almost unheard of in this era.”

The embercrack surges through me, making my tail thrash wildly behind me before it coils in a possessive grip around his waist, yanking him back from the arrow slit with manic strength. “Calm ?” I hiss thickly against his neck, fangs grazing skin. “You think I can be calm when tomorrow means raids and strangers flooding our tower ? Those Bogclutch refugees, those hopeless settlers, they come only if they serve you, Master, and I’ll watch every single one with claws ready. No mainland imports weakening us, no forces stretched thin. Your military strength, that one soldier to fifty ratio... it keeps them all at bay, but I’m the one who keeps you safe in here.”

His hand begins rubbing along my blonde tail and using our bonded link to find every sensitive spot that makes me shudder. “Well we’re already here my cat,” he says, the touch sending jolts through me, “eitherway we’ll need some rest and with that I walk to the bed and get in. Now rest will you, in the morning we can deal with whatever comes but I’m sure it likely won’t go our way, nothing ever does.”

I follow him to the bed with manic speed, claws digging into his shoulders. “Rest ? Master ?” I murmur.

The bonded link floods me with his cynical thoughts of tomorrow’s uncertainties. “Nothing ever goes our way... that’s why I own you so completely, my love. Those raids, the settlers, the Redstone shadows, they won’t touch us if I have anything to say about it. I’ll stalk every threat, rip apart anything that dares disturb your empire." 

The night passes peacefully in our personal quarters, the tropical air warm and still beyond the arrow slits, Guardsville’s distant lights flickering like weak stars that mean nothing next to my Master. I nuzzle aggressively into his neck for hours, purring low. “Mine,” I murmur. I don’t truly sleep, how could I when every instinct screams to guard him ? instead drifting in feral half rest, ears flicking forward at the slightest sound from the merchants below or the guards on the walls, ready to rip apart anything that dares intrude.

The tower stands solid around us, Mire Point’s marsh economy and Bogclutch strength feeding his growing empire while I feed on him. No raids reach us tonight, no Redstone threats, no interruptions, only the steady rhythm of my purring and the occasional lash of my tail against the sheets as I stretch and twis.

As dawn creeps in with soft tropical light filtering through the arrow slits, my ears swivel towards the growing sounds of the tower waking below, goblins stirring for the path work, Serepha likely directing the merchants. “Morning already, Master... the raids, the settlers, the path, they wait, but I don’t. You’re still mine right here.” 

“Morning kitten,” he says. He stands, uses the bucket in the corner, then drinks some water from the side, handing me one as well. “Let’s keep you off the tea for now.”

I snatch the water with my claws, drinking it down in greedy gulps. “Off the tea ? Fine for now, Master... but only because you command it”.