The music finally stutters to a stop, the last notes dying in the tense air of the hall. Our clumsy below decent excuse for a dance lurches to a halt with my foot half on Master’s and his hand still firm on my waist through the rumpled black silk. The magenta lining is flashing in wild patches where the fabric has twisted and torn from my earlier sprint across the floor.

The other pairs have already stepped back, giving us a wide, disgusted circle of space. Whispers ripple louder than before. I hear them clearly, “beast”, “disgrace”, “after all that talk of civilisation”.

Then he pets me. Right there. In front of all of them.

His hand comes up without shame, fingers sliding through my blonde hair, scratching behind one ear exactly the way I like. The other hand stays on my waist, pulling me closer as he strokes down the back of my neck and along my spine over the silk. I melt instantly. A deep, aggressive purr rumbles out of my chest.

The murmurs turn sharper. Someone actually gasps. I don’t care. I press closer, purring louder, letting him pet me unashamedly while the merchant lords and ladies stare in open revulsion. My ears flick under his fingers. My tail lashes once, knocking over an empty goblet on a nearby table. All I know is that he’s touching me like this in front of everyone who tried to dress me up and make me behave, and it feels like victory.

We leave like that.

Master keeps one arm around me as we walk out of the guildhall, my body still glued to his side, We’ve barely made it twenty paces down the street when the alarm goes up.

A deep horn blast echoes from the eastern wall, followed by another, then shouting. Bells start ringing from the keep. Master’s arm tightens around me and we both turn at the same time, already moving toward the nearest stairs that lead up the walls. Oak raiders. Finally.

We climb fast. At the top we reach the parapet and look out over the eastern approach. There they are. Around thirty soldiers in scout leathers, no steel, just hardened leather jerkins, bracers and light cloaks. They’re moving fast and low, carrying ladders between them in teams of four or five. The ladders are rough but sturdy, clearly made for quick scaling. Some have short bows slung across their backs, others carry ropes and hooks. They’re spreading out along the tree line, using the darkness and the uneven ground to stay hidden as long as possible, but the alarm has already blown their cover.

A handful of their archers, maybe five or six at most, loose arrows toward the wall the moment they see movement up here. The shafts whistle up, most clattering harmlessly against the stone or sailing over our heads. One thuds into the parapet a few feet to my left. I don’t flinch.

The local forces react instantly and hard.

Huge wooden shields, the kind meant for exactly this, slam down along the parapet with heavy thuds, overlapping to create a solid barrier. Crossbowmen move in behind them in tight formation, already cranking and loading. The first bolts are already being aimed. I can hear the mechanisms clicking, the low orders being passed. The wall guards are efficient, no panic in their movements despite the sudden raid. They’ve clearly drilled for this.

Another small volley of arrows comes up from the raiders, only a tiny portion of their thirty, the rest still focused on getting those ladders into position at the base of the wall. Most of the shafts hit the big shields and bounce off. One skims past my shoulder, close enough that I feel the wind of it. I bare my fangs at the darkness below, a low growl vibrating in my throat.

Master’s hand is still on me, steady, possessive, unashamed even now. I press back against him, tail wrapping around his leg again as the first crossbow bolts start to fly.

They whistle down into the night with sharp deadly sounds aimed at the ladder teams and the archers still trying to suppress the wall. I can’t see exactly where they land in the dark, but I hear the impacts, wood, leather, flesh. Shouts rise from below. The raiders are still coming, ladders being raised now, but the wall is already answering in kind.

I stay right there beside Master on the parapet, the ruined black silk and magenta dress fluttering in the night breeze, light blue trim catching what little light there is. My ears stay perked, tracking every sound. My claws are out. My body is still half feral from everything that happened tonight, the dance, the petting, the raid but right now all of it funnels into one clear, possessive certainty.

The night air is thick with the sound of ladders thudding against stone and boots scraping upward. Below us the Order of the Oak are climbing in earnest now, leather clad figures hauling themselves up the rungs with grim efficiency, some already near the top. The guild defence is holding, but only just. Crossbow bolts fly in both directions, but the big shields are starting to look thin in places and the wall guards are already shouting for reinforcements that haven’t arrived yet. It’s mediocre at best. Far from victory.

Master’s voice cuts through the noise, low and cynical.

“I don’t really want to get involved in this but let’s face it, they’re simply going to kill, plunder and rape everyone and likely in the name of the eternal hero. Typical alderians, it’s okay as long as it’s the holy command and all but but but we can’t stay here, come.”

The last word is followed by a sudden, forceful yank on my tail.

I gasp, sharp and feral as the pull drags me backward a step, pain flaring hot at the base. My tail lashes once in his grip before I twist with it, body arching instinctively toward him instead of away.

He doesn’t let go of my tail. He uses it like a leash, yanking again to get me moving as we turn and head back down the stairs, away from the wall and toward the road where the goblins are still camped. I follow without real resistance.

We reach the goblin camp quickly. The ones who stayed on watch are already alert, short swords and short bows in hand, eyes gleaming in the firelight as they see us approach. 

The servants’ dress is stripped off me fast as I change back into my normal clothing. The dark red tunic and black trousers from before, the fabric settling familiar and comfortable against my skin. 

He speaks again as I finish dressing, voice steady.

“We could leave but I doubt we’d get far if the order wins this battle and if the guilds do well they likely won’t be happy so we’ll have to do some self defence, they’ve dragged us into this.”

“Dragged us in or not, they’re not touching what’s mine,” I murmur. “Kill, plunder, rape in the name of their hero… typical. We’ll bleed them for it if they come near the road or the tower. The goblins can hold here for now. We head back, get our people ready, and make sure anyone who tries to take what we’ve built pays in full. Self defence or not, they started it the second they put ladders on our walls.”

The goblin camp is already stirring behind us, the ones on watch spreading out but our focus is on Guardsville. The alarm bells have slowed, replaced by sharper shouts and the occasional clash of iron. I can feel the shift in the air before we even reach the stairs again.

By the time we climb back up, the guilds have already turned it around. It’s almost embarrassingly easy to see. The Order of the Oak’s ladder teams are falling back in disarray, several ladders already abandoned or toppled. Crossbow bolts from the wall are finding marks more often now, and the big overlapping shields have held firm. The raiders in their scout leathers are no longer pushing forward with any real coordination. A few still try to climb, but most are dropping back into the treeline, dragging wounded with them. The guild forces on the wall are pressing the advantage hard, more crossbows loading, a small sortie already forming at the gate to harry the retreat.

We arrive just as the Order tips fully onto the back foot. A horn sounds from somewhere in the darkness, not the deep alarm from earlier, but something shorter and more urgent. The remaining ladder teams abandon their posts entirely. The last few climbers drop or are pulled down. The small group of archers that had been trying to suppress the wall loose one final, ragged volley before melting back into the jungle with the rest. Within minutes the thirty or so raiders are in full retreat, scattering east through the trees, leaving ladders, ropes, and at least two bodies behind on the ground below the wall.

I stretch sharply against Master the moment the last of them vanish into the dark, back arching hard before I slam back into his side.“Easy, they came in fast and light, thought they’d catch the guilds sleeping after the dance. Typical. But the second the alarm went up and those big shields dropped, it was already over. Thirty scouts against a prepared wall… they never stood a chance once the crossbows started answering properly. And now they’re running back east with their tails between their legs.”

The three guild leaders appear on the wall not long after the last of the Oak raiders vanish into the eastern trees. The head of the Valenti Guild leads them, flanked by the representative of The Red Sail and the one from The Green Ledger. They move with that practiced merchant confidence but there’s a new edge to it now, relief mixed with something hungrier.

They stop a respectful distance away, but the Valenti leader immediately bows low, voice rich and effusive. “Master Senar, and your… formidable companion. We owe you a debt we can scarcely repay. When the alarm sounded and the raiders came with their ladders, your presence on these walls, your steady hand guiding events, turned what could have been disaster into a clear victory. The road you helped build gave our reinforcements the speed they needed. Your goblins’ work held the line. Truly, you are saviours tonight.”

The Red Sail man jumps in, gesturing broadly with both hands. “Anything at all. Name it. Resources, ships, coin, protection for your tower. whatever you require, the Red Sail stands ready. We protect our own. You stood with us when it mattered. The family remembers.”

The Green Ledger one nods vigorously, ledger already in hand as if ready to record any demand on the spot. “The Green Ledger echoes that. Ledgers must balance, and tonight you tipped ours heavily in our favour. No debt goes unpaid here. If there is anything. anything, you need, speak it. We are in your debt.”

 “They’re practically on their knees,” I speak against Master’s ear, voice low enough for only him while the guild leaders keep talking. “Saviours. Family. Anything at all. They didn’t need us to win, but now they need to make sure we’re tied to them. Clever. Dangerous if we let them pull too hard.”

The Valenti leader bows again, voice even warmer. “We will not forget this night. Your support has secured the road and the future trade between our points. The joint depot we discussed will be even stronger now.”

Master's voice is calm and firm. “Yeah well, despite all of this, I ain’t going after them mate, not my business at least for now.”

The three guild leaders take it neutrally. The Valenti leader simply nods once, the Red Sail man offers a small, understanding smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and the Green Ledger one flips a page in his book like he’s already moving on to the next line of credit. They don’t push. They just keep talking, voices warm and insistent, layering on the praise.

“You showed wisdom tonight, Master,” the Valenti leader continues smoothly, completely ignoring the dismissal. “Your presence alone steadied the line. The road, the timing, it was decisive.”

The Red Sail one leans in slightly. “Precisely. Your restraint is admirable, but know the offer stands open. We protect our own. The joint depot will be a monument to this night’s alliance. Whatever you need, name it. We are at your service.”

I feel the annoyance build fast and hot in my chest. They’re still pampering him, still circling like they can bind him tighter with every flowery word even after he told them straight it wasn’t his fight.

A low growl starts in my throat and builds. I open my mouth and try to roar, proper, loud, lion like, something to make them back off and remember exactly who owns him. What comes out is… not that. It’s a smaller, sharper, much more cat like yowl, fierce and aggressive but clearly from something far less massive than a lion. The sound echoes off the wall anyway, raw and feral, my fangs bared and my tail thrashing wildly behind me.

The guild leaders flinch visibly. The Valenti leader takes a small half step back, the Red Sail man’s hand twitches toward his belt and the Green Ledger one’s ledger actually slips slightly in his grip. 

I stay glued to Master, purring now through the growl, nuzzling aggressively into his neck as my claws flex on his chest. “They keep circling you like they own a piece. Even after you told them straight. They think pretty words and offers will tie you down. I won’t let them.”

The conversation clearly over in Master's mind. One of the guild leaders, the one from The Green Ledger, moves too fast and grabs his arm, fingers closing tight like he thinks he can hold him there with pretty words and debts.

Everything in me snaps.

I don’t think. I just move.

A feral snarl rips out of my throat as I lunge, tail lashing hard behind me. My fist connects with the side of his jaw in a solid but mediocre hit, not clean enough to drop him instantly, but hard enough to snap his head sideways and send him stumbling back a step. Pain flares across my knuckles. I don’t care. I’m already on him, claws out, trying to follow up as he hits the ground.

No one tries to stop me at first. The other two leaders just stare, shocked, while the guards hesitate for a heartbeat too long.

The Green Ledger man is quicker than he looks. He twists under me, gains the upper hand for those few dangerous seconds, and suddenly we’re both on our feet again. I swing for his neck, a wild, mediocre hit that glances off his shoulder instead of landing clean. He counters fast, fist cracking across my jaw with surprising force. The world spins. Pain explodes across my face and I hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of me.

Before I can get up, the guards are on me.

Heavy hands slam down, pinning my arms and legs to the stone. Someone grabs my tail at the base and holds it firm. I snarl and thrash, claws scraping uselessly against the ground, ears pinned flat, blonde hair splayed out around me as I buck and twist under their weight. 

The guild leader I hit is already getting to his feet, rubbing his jaw, face tight with anger and surprise. The other two are talking fast in low voices, trying to smooth it over even as the guards keep me pinned. 

I keep struggling under the guards’ hold, growling low and feral, tail twitching uselessly in their grip, eyes never leaving Master.

I lie pinned to the cold stone, guards’ hands heavy.

Master draws the steel Clan Redstone noble sword in one smooth motion, the blade catching the lantern light as he points it straight at the nearest guard’s throat. His voice cuts through the tension, calm but edged with that familiar noir weight.

“If I was you I’d let my cat go. You see she’s my pet, not yours.”

The intimidation lands somewhere in the middle, not weak, not crushing. The guard’s eyes widen for a split second, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, more guards shift forward, crossbows rising in unison, bolts already nocked and aimed at Master’s chest. The air goes sharp and dangerous.

Then the guild leaders step in.

The Valenti man speaks first, the rapid, coded flow the three guilds use among themselves, half formal trade speak and half something older, sharper, laced with old Saltspire League shorthand. It’s not the common tongue they’ve been using with us. It’s clipped, layered, full of double meanings that only they fully catch. I catch fragments through the bond and my own ears, apologies for the “simple misunderstanding,” quick assurances that no one wants blood spilled on a night already won against the Oak, careful words about honour and debts and the need for calm heads.

But it’s not a real apology.

The Red Sail leader translates the heart of it into common for us, voice still warm but now carrying steel underneath. “A misunderstanding, nothing more. Tempers run high after battle. No one is at fault here. The guards were simply protecting their leaders after… the altercation. We apologise for the roughness.”

The Green Ledger man nods, closing his ledger with a soft snap. “Indeed. We value the alliance we have begun to build tonight. The road, the joint depot, your timely presence, all of it strengthens Guardsville. But in light of this… incident, and the very real threat that remains from the east, we must formalise things. For everyone’s safety.”

They don’t release me.

The guards keep their weight on me, crossbows still trained on Master. The goblins who had been lingering at the edges of the scene have moved closer now, silent, eyes gleaming in the low light. They haven’t attacked, but their postures have shifted. Ready. Tense. One wrong word and this whole wall could turn into a bloodbath.

The Valenti leader continues, still using that merchant tongue for the delicate parts, the Red Sail man smoothing it into common. “We propose a formal alliance agreement. Mutual defence of Guardsville and the new road between our points. Your forces, the goblins, your tower’s strength will be integrated into the watch rotations for the walls and the path. In return, the guilds will provide ongoing support: supplies, coin for expansions, protection for any trade you wish to run. The joint depot will be built under shared oversight, with tariffs and security split. No one acts alone against the Oak or any other threat without the others being informed. It binds us all. It protects everyone.”

My claws scrape against the stone as I twist under the guards again. Master stands there with the noble sword still raised, the goblins at his back, the crossbows pointed at his chest. I can feel the bond between us humming with his thoughts, the calculation, the cynicism, the weight of being boxed in. I snarl again, louder this time as I fight the hands holding me down.

The weight on my back shifts for half a second, one of the guards adjusting his hold to keep the crossbows steady on Master. That’s all I need.

I explode upward.

A feral scream rips out of my throat as I twist hard, claws raking across the face of the guard holding my tail while my other hand drives straight into the throat of the one pinning my left arm. Both attacks land clean and instant. The first guard staggers back with a choked gurgle, blood spraying from his torn neck, the second drops his crossbow and clutches at his ruined face before collapsing. Two bodies hit the stone in the space of a heartbeat.

The bond flares white hot with rage.

Before I can even turn, one of the remaining guards lunges at Master from the side. The butt of a crossbow cracks hard against the back of his skull. Master’s eyes roll back. The noble sword clatters from his hand as he drops like a stone, out cold before he even hits the ground.

Pure, blinding rage floods every inch of me.

I don’t scream again. I move.

The next guards rush me, crossbows discarded for clubs. I dodge the first swing low and fast, tail lashing out as I spin. A club whistles past my ear, I twist aside, claws raking across the attacker’s wrist hard enough to make him drop his weapon. The third tries to grab me from behind. I drop into a feral crouch, slam an elbow into his gut, then drive both claws straight into his chest in a double strike that drops him instantly, blood hot on my hands.

More guards are closing in, but the goblins have already exploded into motion.

short swords flash. Short bows twang. The clash erupts all around us, goblin metal meeting guild metal in a sudden, vicious brawl along the wall. Shouts and the ring of metal fill the night. One goblin takes a crossbow bolt to the shoulder but keeps swinging. Another leaps onto a guard’s back, fangs and claws going straight for the throat.

I stay in the centre of it like a storm.

A guard swings at my head, I block with my forearm, the impact jarring but not enough to stop me, then counter with a vicious claw strike across his face that sends him reeling. Another tries to flank me. I dodge under his club and drive both hands into his stomach in another double attack, dropping him before he can recover. Blood splatters across the dark red tunic. My tail whips behind me, keeping balance as I move, ears flat, blue eyes wild and locked on Master’s still form on the ground.

The guild leaders have backed away fast, shouting in that merchant tongue, trying to regain control. But it’s too late. The wall has turned into a killing ground. Goblins and guards are fully engaged now, bodies falling on both sides. The Valenti leader is yelling orders. The Red Sail man has drawn a hidden blade. The Green Ledger one is already retreating toward the stairs with two guards shielding him.

I don’t care about any of them.

I only care about the unconscious man on the stone and the fact that they dared lay hands on what’s mine.