Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty-Two- The Heist

Fleck knew that she had to steal back the weapons that had been taken. It was her duty, as Ember’s spy, the ensure that her side won. But still, she was unsure of who she would rather be the victor. Either way, she hated the feeling of loosing and she wouldn’t just lie down and let that smug spy feel victorious while she felt like a failure.

But Fleck had far bigger problems to worry about. Had the thief recognized her by her face and told Slate that Fleck was a spy for Ember? She didn’t think that she knew anyone that would be a spy, but you never know. And even if the spy had never met her, Fleck knew that it would describe the cat that caught it to Slate or would tell him her name if it knew it.

Fleck pushed the cluttering thoughts aside. She had to focus on her new mission. Ember had given her the okay on executing it and all Fleck needed was her new knife and a large sack and she was ready to go. Ember had provided the sack, which was roughhewn and brown. Fleck was reminded of the thief by the sack, but that was no matter. What brought back truly horrible memories was the blue dagger, but Fleck wanted to get more used to using it and not thinking of the assassination when she did. It was, after all, quite a beautiful dagger that was far more keen then FoeFlayer, her old dagger. She could always sharpen the dagger, but that would take time--time that Fleck did not have the luxury of having.

Fleck had easily fashioned herself a simple sheath for her new dagger, which she had dubbed Sylett, and she fingered the hilt lovingly. The dagger might carry some bad memories, but she still could not help but admire its raw beauty.

Fleck gave herself a quick checkup. She had a small black cloth that she had fashioned into a mask in case she was spotted. She also wore a long navy-blue cloak, as her  unique coloring might also betray her identity. She wore her trusty belt, strapped onto which was her new dagger, Sylett. And slung over her shoulder was her pillaging roughly woven sack. She was ready to go.

It was not yet midnight, but Fleck had waited long enough. She knew that it must be close, though. The sky was ink-black and scattered with shining stars. The moon was waxing, growing fuller and fuller by the night. Fleck knew that it was best to execute the mission now, while to moon was still only a crescent and gave off less light. Otherwise, there was a greater chance that she would get caught. And though the increase was small, Fleck did not want to take any chances.

Fleck darted off, towards the cave that she vividly remembered. This was where the weapons were kept. They were guarded, but the Commoners that guarded them did not tend to be very vigilant. The scientists that Slate had to invent new weapons for him and his guards were also in there, but not for guarding. For whatever reason, this dank place was where they slept. The first time Fleck had been in that cave, she had killed a cat. She had regretted her actions the moment that they were executed, but it had already been done.

Fleck looked down at Sylett, who was currently resting harmlessly at her side. “Hopefully,” she said with a heavy sigh, “there will be no need for you nor any other weapon tonight.”

Fleck pressed her ear to the stone by the entrance of the cave. She smiled a trifle smugly pleased that Slate had made her job so easy. As she had done the last time, she pushed her sack through the cave entrance. It would serve as a kind of decoy. If the sentries awoke to the sound of it sliding down through the tunnel and the light thud of it hitting the ground, then they would have detected her. It was best if Fleck was outside of the cave when the guards awoke then in the middle of their gunfire.

When she heard the roughhewn sack fall the stone cave floor, Fleck waited and listened intently. By the sound of it, not a single sentry had woken up. Fleck had not expected them to. Although the cave echoed every sound, the sack had barely made any and the sentries were obviously very deep sleepers. Nevertheless, Fleck was not one for taking chances.

Fleck herself slid through the tunnel, but with less ease. It was long and narrow. Fleck kind of wondered how the sentries and scientists had gotten in. She was the smallest and thinnest cat of all of the guards and, from what she remembered, all of the sentries had been at least moderately muscular and had definitely been larger then she was.

When Fleck had finally made it through the tunnel, she landed lightly on top of her bag. She remembered the vastness and awe-inspiring nature of the cave, but was still surprised at how much it held. It looked so much bigger then she recalled. When she looked closer, she realized that it was. The storage shelves and work tables closest to her were rusty and old, but deeper in the cave, there were newer and had more high-tech weapons and other inventions on them.

Fleck observed that there was a huge, high-powered drilling machine in the back. All around it was a pile of rubble and there was a pair of huge dump trucks that were full to the brim with stones and rubble, evidently from wall. There was a third truck there that held what looked like pieces for new shelves and work tables. The three trucks fit easily in the cave; the walls were tall enough for almost two of the massive machines staked on top of each other. There was a great expanse of what looked like machine-made cave, the floor scattered with rubble, that was empty. Evidently, Slate had run out of room to store all of his weapons, so he had ordered the cave expanded.

Fleck tore her eyes away from the back of the cave and started to examine the shelves for good weapons. She chose to take them off of the newer shelves, because they looked like they had slightly better-quality weapons. Her sack was almost full in a time space of about ten minutes. Fleck decided that she should leave soon. As it was, the sack might not be able to fit through the small tunnel exit.

Just as she was picking up what she assumed would be the last item in her sack, Fleck caught a movement in the corner of her eye. One of the oldest of the shelving units, encrusted with rust and grime, trembled under the weight of the rocket-launchers and bags of ammunition that were on it’s top shelf. Before Fleck could so much as blink, the shelf collapsed onto the one below it with a crash.

All of the sentries awoke with a start, grunting out of their rhythmic snores. In one smooth movement, every sentry’s gun was at the ready and their eyes were searching every corner for an intruder. Fleck hid in the shadows by the cave wall. She inwardly thanked her cloak and mask, which masked her lighter colors and helped to hide her in the darkness.

The sentries began to spread out, searching for the unseen thief that was Fleck. After some time, they found nothing. But they were coming nearer and nearer to Fleck. She clutched the sack of weapons closer to her chest, pulling it deeper into the shadows. A sentry walked right past her, scenting the air for the intruder. Thankfully, the damp cave air masked her scent.

A Commoner sentry called from one of the aisles farther away, “Let’s just get back to our posts. There’s obviously no one here and the selves are old. It must have just collapsed. I told you that we were putting too many Destroyers on that one. Anyway, the others can fix or replace it tomorrow.”

“No,” said the sentry closest to Fleck. “We will instead have half continue the search and another half go back to their posts. I can smell a rat...”

“Oh, yeah, we all know that you’re always right, Cynthia,” one of the other sentries laughed. Several others joined in and Cynthia snorted in retort. Nevertheless, they did as she had said.

Great, Fleck thought sarcastically, That’s just perfect. All I needed was a bunch of sentries guarding the only exit I have and searching for me high and low.

The only exit... Or was it?

How could those massive trucks get in through that minuscule tunnel? And what about the sentries and scientists? There has to be another entrance to the cave... and another escape route.

Fleck recalled the little tabby she-cat scientist that she had been forced to kill. Fleck soundlessly crept over the exact spot where the murder had occurred, right next to the Motherlord ammunition. The scientist had to have sleeping quarters and the other two must, also. Where could that entrance be?

Fleck decided that, after she examined the cave wall for any such entranceway, it must be concealed in some clever way. Fleck felt along to cave wall, abut to no avail. She shifted around the crates of weapons and ammo, and this time her search was payed off. Behind on of the heaping wooden crate full of discarded weapons, there was a small hole carved in the wall. It was plenty big enough for a cat as small as Fleck and was the perfect size for even one of the larger sentries.

With a moment of hesitation, Fleck entered the hidden tunnel, resealing the entrance behind her with the crate. In this cave, witch was a degree smaller but just as tall as the other cave. Nearby, there was a leaver that evidently lifted the massive cave wall by the concealed hole for the trucks to enter. The dimly lit cave appeared empty, but Fleck wasn’t going to take any chances. She kept to the shadows by the cave wall and stayed alert, her eyes peeled for possible dangers.

The tunnel was long, but was relatively straight and the ground was almost completely smooth. Fleck guessed that this was for easier passage for the trucks, which would be full to the brim with their heavy loads. She could see tire tracks in the thick dust, which confirmed her hopes of a nearby exit.

Soon, she came to a fork in the tunnel. She could either continue straight forward and follow the tire tracks or she could go left, into the unknown. Fleck decided on going foreword, as the left chamber probably was the pathway the scientists’ quarters. That would probably lead to a dead end, and Fleck couldn’t waste time. Every second she spent down here she risked her life.

Finally, after a length of time that lasted forever, Fleck came to the end of the tunnel. On either side of the exit, there were huge piles of rubble that towered above even the cave. Pressed gravel formed a well-used and slightly narrow road that marched into the distance, disappearing beyond the horizon.

Fleck dashed in the other direction, her sack of weaponry bouncing at her side, clipped securely to her belt. It was time to give back what had been taken.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty-One- Stolen

A shadowed figure slunk stealthily towards the weapon shed, where all of the weapons of Ember’s cats were kept. The silence of the night was deafening and it was all that the cat could hope for that it wasn’t caught. That would defiantly be bad.

Then again, there was always the fatal save. The cat smirked and fingered the long knife that was concealed beneath its cloak. It’s sharp silver edge glittered menacingly in the pale moonlight. The cat couldn't care less if it was forced to kill a cat, but it knew that that may not be necessary and should be avoided at all costs. Another murder could end up being messy and the cat couldn’t afford a victim alerting the other cats of Ember’s kingdom with its final breath...

The cat had reached the weapon shed. Without a sound the cat observed the lock on the shed. Oddly enough, it was not guarded. The cat sniffed with distain. No efficient army would ever leave their weapons in an unguarded, faraway shed. As the cat scoffed at Ember’s lack of discipline, the breeze caused the lock to shift position, creating a small clank. Brought back to its senses, the cat shook its head and focused on the mission ahead of it.

It had to figure out a way to break or pick the lock, then enter the weapon shed without anyone spotting it. After that, it would exit the shed with its sack stuffed to the brim with stolen weaponry.

Now, it was time to put the plan into action. Silent as death, the cat moved like a shadow, towards the lock...

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Fleck wished that Quince hadn’t left a little before her. The streets were bitter cold and lonely at night without a friend. The trees in the ‘shooting rage’ cast swooping shadows onto the grass. The pale silver moonlight provided very little lighting, especially as by Fleck’s standards. It was near to being a new moon and was now only the thinest little sliver. The thieving street cats hung around nearby, perhaps hoping to pickpocket her or something of the sort, their faces in half-shadow.

Fleck ignored them as best she could, continuing foreword and not making eye contact. Soon, but not quite soon enough, Fleck had left the gloomy place behind her. As she neared the forest that stood between the two enemy kingdoms, she heard a clank nearby. It sounded like something metallic banging against another medal object and had come from the weapon shed that was only a little ways ahead of her. Fleck quickened her pace.

When she was at the doorway of the weapon shed, she saw that the door was slightly ajar and that the lock had been opened. Fleck wondered why Ember would give someone the key to enter the shed when there was no threat of an approaching battle--and if he had.

Heart rapidly pounding in her chest, Fleck placed a light paw on the smooth medal surface of the door. Gingerly, she pushed it open the rest of the way. The whole weapon shed was full of the dull silver moonlight. Fleck saw that there was a cloaked figure in there, back turned to her. The cat was filling a roughhewn sack full of gunpowder, ammunition and weapons.

“Stop!” Fleck commanded, a little aggressively. “Who are you, and why are you taking our weapons?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the cat whirled around, dark green cloak flurrying about it. In a split second, the cat had unsheathed its long dagger from beneath its cloak, lunging towards Fleck with a fearsome snarl. The sharp blade flew forward once, then a second time. Fleck backed up to avoid getting stabbed both times and ended up with only a scratch on her chest.

The cat seemed to decide that it was best not to dawdle and left in a rush, the half-full sack bouncing on its cloaked shoulder. Fleck was dumbstruck at first, the stinging pain in her chest becoming duller and duller as time ticked by. Fleck quickly examined the wound on her chest. It was a quite deeper then she had previously thought, but it would heal with time. Her true worry was the army’s weaponry.

With speed, Fleck rushed back towards Ember’s kingdom in hopes to catch the king before he retired for the night. She had decided against pursuing the cat thief. It was obviously quite skilled in the use of the dagger, and Fleck a no close-range weapons to work with. Sure, she had a fine stock of guns from the weapon shed, but she needed something that would keep the cat alive for questioning. Besides, the sound of gunfire would alarm Ember’s cats and cause unnecessary panic that could have easily been avoided. Yes, it would be best to go immediately to Ember and not bother with the thief, who was probably long-gone by now.

When Fleck arrived atEmber’s chambers, she immediately entered. Ember was having a cup of mint tea served with a lemon wedge. When Fleck burst in, he nearly dropped his teacup in surprise.

“Well, hello, there Fleck,” he said in an awkward greeting, sounding a little flustered. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were leaving for until tomorrow? Is it urgent?”

“Yes,” Fleck panted, looking up anxiously. “Some of your weaponry has just been stolen by an unknown cat!”

“What?” Ember gasped, setting the mint tea down onto the table. He leaned forward as to catch every word and continued, “When did this happen? Can you give me all of the details?”

“In the weapon shed just a few moments ago,” Fleck explained, talking quickly as to get this over with. “When I was leaving, I noticed that the door to the shed was slightly open. When I entered to investigate, I found a cat stealing our weapons and putting them into a sack. This cat obviously picked the lock. Why didn’t you post any guards? If I hadn’t managed to find this all out, you would have not a single weapon left! And still, that thief took a good quarter of them.”

Ember shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have a guard there because I don’t need one. Nothing like this has ever happened here before.”

Fleck heaved a sigh of both annoyance and frustration. “Ember, we’re in the middle of a war! Things like this are bound to happen! You’ve got to expect them and be more proactive. Stop a thievery before it starts. Anticipate and prepare for a battle prior to when it begins.”

“But we’ve never had anything actually stolen from us before,” Ember murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Honestly,” Fleck said with another sigh of exasperation. “Where are they getting you kings these days?”

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Slate sat, stoney-faced, on his armchair in his bedroom. Dim light pooled onto the lightly dusty wooden floorboards at his paws. He got a feeling that the mission had not gone well... His spy would be punished for this. But he had to wait and see... Maybe he was wrong.

Still, King Slate wondered how it could have. He had armed his spy with an accurate and silent weapon that it was used to using. His spy hadn’t been caught the first time, why would it be seen this time? It had told him that the weapon shed was a good distance away from the kingdom and the operation had occurred at night. So why would it be caught? He would soon find out. Outside, he could see a cloaked figure rapidly approaching. His spy had come...

He straightened himself a bit, preparing for the cat’s entrance. Soon, he would see. This brought both excitement and dread. Did they now know who his spy was? How many cats had it been forced to kill?

The door shifted open only by about quarter of the way, just enough for the spy to discreetly creep inside. Swiftly, the spy entered and hurried across the wooden floorboards. The cat was already bowing to him, which was probably not a good sign. His spy trembled a little as it spoke.

“I... I was seen, my lord,” the cat stammered slowly, quaking a trifle more violently. “A cat by the name of Fleck caught me in the weapon shed, my lord. I was still able to gather these from them, my lord.”

The shaking cat held out the sack. Slate took it and peered inside. What he saw made him feel a rush of anger. His spy hadn’t even collected half as much as it was supposed to have! The meager supply of weapons would barely even effect Ember and his cats. Why, they would probably even laugh at him for being so foolish as to let such a failure of a cat steal their armory.

Slate was able to control his anger fairly well. “Fleck... That name rings a bell. One of my cats is named that! Do you think that she’s--”

His spy laughed, but without mirth. It sounded forced. “Fleck seems to be a common name, my lord. I have met not only her and your cat, but also another one in Ember’s kingdom. You shouldn’t worry about another spy, my lord. Ember does not have brains enough to plan something as clever as that. Did I tell you that the only thing ‘guarding’ their vital weapon shed was a pathetic little lock that I was able to easily pick without breaking a sweat? Ha! They make me pity them for their brainlessness.” The spy shock its head with mock sympathy for Ember and his cats.

“So it wasn’t even guarded and you still managed to get yourself caught!” Slate raged, unable to keep his frustration towards his spy contained a second longer. “Did this... Fleck see your face?”

“No, I don’t think that she saw my face well enough to recognize me, my lord,” the spy answered with relief heavy in its voice. Now the attention was diverted towards the finer points on the thievery. “If she did, then she didn’t show it. She seemed to be peering at me, trying to see underneath my hood, but I don’t think that she got a good look at my face.”

“Did you not manage to kill her?” Slate pressed.

“No, I did not, my lord.” The cat sighed with wholehearted and genuine regret. “I was, however, able to make a good-sized scratch on her chest. I might not even scar, but at least it’s something, right, my lord? Luckily, she did not follow me. Instead, I think that she went to Ember to report.”

“Hm,” Slate murmured thoughtfully. “I believe that that is all. You are dismissed, my spy. Hopefully, your next mission will be more successful, all right?” There was an even and threatening tone in his voice.

“Yes, my lord,” the cat said obediently, beginning to slowly retreat. “But what is my next mission, my lord?”

“Code Red 03200 ring any bells?” Slate questioned tactfully. He said it as ‘O three two hundred.’

“Ah, yes, my lord,” the cat said with a sly smugness. “I am sure that it will be. Farewell, my lord.”

“Farewell,” King Slate said with the same smugness.

And then the spy hurried away, retreating back into the darkness, leaving Slate with his convoluted thoughts once again.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty- The Information

Fleck was welcomed at the threshold of Ember’s chambers by his maid, who seemed to also serve as his cook. When Fleck entered the room, led by the maid who told her that her name was Katrina, she found Ember speaking to Quince at the low table. The table was set with the same tablecloth and bishop’s hat napkins as last time, but had a graceful glass vase full of lavender to replace the fruit bowl that had been there the night prior.

“Oh, hello, Fleck.” Ember greeted her warmly, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Care to join us? I hope that you don’t mind Quince being here while we talk. You are in time for dinner, I see. Did you collect the information?”

Fleck was bombarded with questions. She decided to answer them in the order that they had been spoken. “Yes, I would love to join you... No, I don’t mind Quince being here. And what was that last one? Oh, yes. I did get the information. But perhaps not in the exact quantity that you or I would have preferred.”

Ember gave a nervous swallow at hearing this. “Well, then...” He seemed to be unable to complete his sentence.

“If you mind my being here, I could leave,” Quince suggested politely. “I know that I’m intruding and I’d understand completely if you de--”

“No, it’s okay if you stay,” Fleck insisted. It really wasn’t. She would have rather had it that it was just her and Ember. That felt a bit more private, like no one could overhear. With Quince here, it felt like everything that Fleck said was going to be recorded and a subject of gossip. But she really didn’t feel like kicking kind Quince out of a fine dinner. It all was very hard to explain, even in Fleck’s head.

Ember clapped his paws together to bring the attention back yo himself. “Well, then!” This one sounded far more confident then the other. “What did you learn from speaking to the four suspects?”

Fleck hesitated for a split second. “Well...” She didn’t really know where to begin. The interviews had not revealed half as much as she had hoped that they would. She hoped that he would tell her who to start with and luckily he did.

“Why don’t we begin with you telling me about your interview with Mink?” Ember requested. “Do you think that he’s guilty?”

“Oh... Okay,” Fleck said without enthusiasm. “Well, I think that he could be, but I’m not sure. The questioning was short and he didn’t really seem to want to talk. Mink willingly admitted that he was a thief and stole from other cats for survival. He told me that he couldn’t find any work because of his bad record. Mink also didn’t seem vary sad for the three cats who were murdered. Actually, none of the cats that I interviewed did. And when I asked him why he hang out on the bad park of the kingdom, he told me that that was where he belonged and that he had no where else to go. I don’t really think that he could be the murderer, but my opinion could be clouded by the fact that I feel petty bad for him. He doesn’t really seem to have any self-pity, himself.”

“Hm... So you think that your compassion might be alternating your decision?” Quince murmured. “Isn’t that something that Slate might want? For you to trust and pity Mink because of his hard life? And that also might have been a tool Slate used to get Mink on his side. He might have bribed Mink into joining him with riches, land, food, a high ranking, or something like that.”

“Maybe,” Fleck said indecisively.

“What about the other suspects?” Ember asked with great interest. “How about you tell me about Smokey.”

“She seemed like an okay cat, but could end up being our prime suspect,” Fleck answered thoughtfully. “She was a trifle more easy to get things out of, but I can’t tell how much of it was the truth. Her view on shooting practice was that they are fun and enjoyable, which I found quite odd.”

“What did I tell you?” Ember said knowingly. “All of the cats that we’re dealing with here are just plain weird.”

“Yeah, okay,” Fleck muttered, not really sure if she completely believed this sweeping statement. Then she continued to tell him about Smokey. “She claimed that the other warriors here are cowards and use barely any ammunition during the battles when I asked her if she thought that it was a good idea to use the valuable bullets for practice. Smokey also thought that they ‘had it coming for them’ when they got murdered and that the war isn’t going to move foreword if something like that doesn’t happen. She says that she hated Spark and claims to have not known Gemini and says that she thought that FireLily was okay.”

“Hm,” Ember murmured thoughtfully. “Well, that’s another possibility for the killer. What about Tyla?”

“Here’s dinner!” Quince announced gleefully.

The soup had roughly chopped vegetables in it and was full of whole, deep green spinach leaves. It was garnished with a sprinkling of sliced and sauteed leeks complete with a sprig of rosemary. The rosemary slightly unsettled Fleck as it brought back a bad memory, but she ignored this and just enjoyed the soup. With it came steaming slices of freshly made bread for dipping.

While they ate, Fleck told Quince and Ember about Tyla.

“At first, Tyla wasn’t really willing to talk. She wouldn’t even let me in. But I finally got her to talk by mentioning her brothers. She told me that their names were Slasher and Thor and she says that she wishes that Slate and his guards would all ‘just drop dead.’ She also told me about your system  that you have for the battles and says that--”

“Hold up,” Ember interrupted. “What system?”

“Well, I don’t exactly agree with it, either,” Fleck said with a snarl in her voice. “How someone has to claim the body of a deceased cat or else you’ll just leave them there to rot.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Ember exclaimed in an exasperated tone. “I don’t have enough able-bodied cats as it is! I don’t need them breaking their backs over bearing dead cats!”

Quince drew her lip back in a snarl. “Why didn’t you tell me about that? I have no relatives here, so no one’s ever going to claim me if I die. So you’re saying that I’d be left there on the battlefield, forgotten, until I rot away?”

“Uh...” Fleck could see her king sweating under the pressure. After a while he stammered nervously, “Just... Just go on, Fleck.”

“Tyla called you a coward and said that the kingdom would be better if you were dead and gone,” Fleck continued. “Then she said that she had talked to much and bid me a blunt farewell.”

“There’s our murderer!” Ember announced through a mouthful of soup.

Fleck shook her head. “I’m not so sure. She seemed to really hate Slate and the guards, too. Why would she ever work for them?”

“I don’t know,” Quince said hesitantly. “It could be another one of those setups. She could have said that because that’s exactly what she wants you to think. So it could very well be her.”

“What about her brothers?” Fleck questioned. “She seemed to have really cared about them. And they were killed by none other then Slate’s cats.”

“Well, it could be that she joined Slate to get her revenge on him for killing her beloved siblings,” Quince invited.

“Could be,” Fleck murmured in agreement.

The hot blueberry pie was then served, along with a dozen different berries and cool, melty ice cream. This was a meal that Fleck would never forget.

“What about FireClaw?” Ember inquired with an unappetizing drip of the creamy blueberry filling painstakingly making its way down the king’s chin. Fleck was forced to either look away or throw up.

“I literally bumped into him on my way to his home,” Fleck explained. “He acted normal enough. But everything he said seemed somewhat... Fake. It felt practiced and hollow whenever he said anything. It might have just been my imagination, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s our murderer.”

They had they hot mint tea after they had finished the pie, which was the perfect way to end the wonderful evening. Fleck departed with a content stomach but a convoluted mind. Was it the poor young thief, Mink? Was it the causal killer, Smokey? Was it the easily angered sister, Tyla? Or could it be the cheerful but hollow gentleman, FireClaw? Fleck didn’t know, but she got the feeling that she would be finding out soon in a way that would not be pleasant.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Twenty-Nine- The Investigation

Fleck stole away from Slate’s kingdom at around three o’clock in the afternoon. She had high hopes for dinner later with Ember, whose soup and pie were making her mouth water at the thought of them. Her rations had tasted like dirt compared to his fruit, tea, and oat-and-poppy cakes.

Fleck had had difficulties leaving, as she was stopped more then once by her fellow guards. But she knew that she had done good with timing and couldn’t really hope to have been any earlier. She estimated that she had about three or so hours for the four interviews, which gave her a good amount of time. Although, she had best hurry. First, she would start with Mink, who she had been told hung out around the outskirts of the empire and was therefor the closest.

“Mink, here I come,” Fleck muttered, pressing forward a trifle faster.

Once Fleck reached the edge of the kingdom, she started to look around. Ember had told her that Mink hung out on the South side of the empire, which was the closest side to Slate’s kingdom and usually around the area where the battles took place. Fleck thought that it was a strange place for a young cat to live. Or a cat of any age, for that matter.

Soon, she found a bunch of cats slinking around as if they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Most of them gave Fleck inquiring looks with a vague hostility. Several of them gave her more intense looks then others, but they left her unfazed and not the least bit intimidated.

“Hello, there,” Fleck said cheerfully, flashing the group of cats a friendly smile. “I was just wondering if any of you know where a cat named Mink might be. If you do, could you please point me in his direction?”

“Why should we?” a large tom asked hotly, lashing his tabby tail.

Fleck turned to the others, deciding that a tomcat with that kind of personality wouldn’t get her anywhere. She did not need to get into a fight and decided that it would be best if she remained personably kind and used as little threatening anger as possible in her tone. She gave the group another smile, hoping to lighten the dim mood. “Could you please tell me where Mink is?” she asked again.

“Why do you need to know?” a ginger she-cat asked with a slow wave of her long, slender tail. “I’d be glad to give you the information if you give me a good reason, you know.”

Fleck cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m here on official business with the king. I am only here for a friendly talk with him and I swear that he will not get hurt in any way while I speak with him.”

“Good enough for me,” the ginger she-cat said with an impassive shrug. “He’s over there, just about ten yards away. Shouldn’t be a minute before you reach him. Good luck.” The she-cat pointed to indicate the direction.

“Thank you,” Fleck said and dashed off.

Soon she had reached her desired destination, right next to a tiny brown tom that was probably only about nine months old. On his face making a bridge over is nose was a long scar. His ears were tattered and he looked like he’d been through a lot. He was lying down on the dirt, and when Fleck approached he lifted his head and looked at her without much interest.

“Hello, Mink.” Fleck greeted him with warmth, as she pitied him for being such a young cat with such a rough life.

“Hi,” Mink said without much emotion, placing his head on his paws. Apparently, he din’t really care that Fleck somehow knew his name without him introducing himself or ever having met her before.

Fleck sat down. “Mink, I wanted to inform you that there has recently been three murders.”

“I know that,” Mink said without much interest.

“I was wondering,” Fleck began a little awkwardly, not knowing how to handle the questioning, “why do you live over here where all of the crooks are. It’s dangerous around here, especially as after those murders.”

“I’m a crook, too,” Mink replied, a little wistfully. “This is where I belong. I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

Fleck nodded sympathetically. She had a genuine empathy for the young cat and didn’t really think that he was the murderer. “That reminds me of another question I wanted to ask you. Why do you steal?”

Mink shrugged. “I do it because I need food and its the only way to get any. The war’s putting cats out of work, making them all go away. There’s plenty of jobs that I could get, but I already have earned myself a bad record. No one wants to hire someone who robs. Anyway, I can’t go like the adults because I don’t even know where to go. I don’t think that they do, either.”

“I’m sorry that you have such a hard life,” Fleck told him.

Mink shrugged again. “Hey, at least it’s a life.”

Mink closed his eyes, signaling the end of their conversation. Fleck decided that it was best not to press him, even though the conversation had lasted far shorter then she had expected and hoped. She hadn’t learned as much as she would have liked, but you win some you lose some. Fleck hoped that the next questioning went better. She would head to the little cluster of trees just a little ways from where she was, which served as Smokey’s shooting range where she spent most of her time, according to what Ember had told Fleck.

When Fleck arrived, she immediately spotted the chocolate and smoke tortoiseshell she-cat, who was shooting rounds from her rifle at an archer’s-style target. The colorful target was secured to a tree and was tattered from over use. Smokey didn’t seem to see Fleck for some time. Patiently, Fleck waited to be seen. She didn’t want to say anything and startle the she-cat.

“Hey,” Smokey said after a little while. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Hi, I’m Fleck,” Fleck clarified, remaining polite. If she was going to get anything out of this she-cat, she would have to try to play it nice. “I’m just here for a little chat with you, if you wouldn’t mind, that is.”

“No, not at all,” Smokey said in a wistful and dry tone that reminded Fleck a little of Jade. “The name’s Smokey, by the way.”

Smokey blew the smoke from the tip of her rifle and set the weapon down on a tree stump. She then sat down on the healthy-looking almost too green grass, and Fleck mirrored her.

“So I was wondering if you know anything about the three murder cases that happened in the kingdom a couple of days ago,” Fleck started gingerly, not waiting to sound like she suspected Smokey. The best way to get something from this interview would be to act casual and friendly.

“Yeah,” Smokey replied indifferently. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering why you practice shooting,” Fleck explained. “Is it a way of being able to protect yourself?”

“Well, I guess that, too,” Smokey said, a little uncertainly. “I really kind of do it for fun. I know it sounds a bit strange, but I love fighting. I don’t get to do it at all around here, but I find it fun. Plus, I think that I’m pretty okay at it.”

Fleck turned to the target on the tree. It’s center had been penetrated by so many bullets that it was no longer there. There was a hole in the tree where the center of the target used to be.

“I can see that you are,” Fleck began in a complimentary tone, “based on the looks of your target.”

“Thanks,” Smokey said modestly. “I change it out every few days. Just, you know, to make sure that it doesn’t fall apart.”

“Do you think that it’s wise to use so many valuable bullets just for practice?” Fleck inquired. She knew that it was a bit of a dangerous question to ask, but she had to know the answer.

“Well, to tell you the truth, not really,” Smokey replied honestly. “I know that I really shouldn’t be wasting all of this ammunition, but I’m the only one doing it. Besides, the other cats around here don’t use much ammo during battles.”

“What do you mean?” Fleck questioned, trying to hide her shock.

“They’re cowards,” Smokey explained bluntly. “They’re relatively afraid to shoot at any of King Slate’s cats. They think that the guards are some kind of monster who, if they shoot at them, will kill them instantly. Or some kind of nonsense like that. I don’t really pay much attention to those fools. If you ask me, they had it coming for them when they got murdered. These battles aren’t getting anyone anywhere and someone has to act. Else this war’s going to last forever.”

Fleck’s eyebrows raised several inches. “So you think that they deserved to die?” She was careful to leave suspicion out of her voice.

“Well... No.” Smokey looked uncertain. “I kind of think that Spark did. He was a horrible cat and I’m glad that he’s gone. But I think that FireLily was okay and I never knew the other cat. What was that cat’s name? Gem?”

“Gemini,” Fleck informed her bluntly.

“Yeah, him,” Smokey said without any emotion whatsoever, save maybe boredom. “Anyway, is there anything else that you wanted to ask me?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there was,” Fleck replied, trying to keep this questioning alive. “Do you know anyone around here that might be the murderer? We’re trying to find out, but I haven’t get any leads.” The question was a tactful one, as it made it look definite that Fleck didn’t suspect Smokey.

“No, I’m sorry,” Smokey answered, picking up her rifle and resuming her shooting practice. She shot in between words. “I told you, I don’t really mix with the other cats. The only one other then me that I know is really just Spark, and he’s dead now.” She said this without any empathy for the cat, instead with loathing. “Is that going to be it?” Smokey sounded eager to end the conversation.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Fleck said with a small, barely audible sigh. “See you around, Smokey.”

Smokey waved her tail in farewell and continued her shooting practice. Fleck had to admit that she was pretty good, especially as for someone who lived in Ember’s peaceful little kingdom.

Fleck decided that the next one would be Tyla, who lived in the middle of Ember’s empire. Fleck arrived at the little, unkempt home that she assumed was Tyla’s from Ember’s description. Fleck gave the large, plain and ancient-looking door a timid knock. When there was no answer for a good length of time, Fleck repeated the gesture without success. Finally, the head of a calico she-cat with beautiful blue eyes and a dirty look on her face was shoved through the doorway.

“What do you want?” she asked loudly and without a hint of patience.

“I assume that you are named Tyla?” Fleck restrained herself from returning the foul look that the calico she-cat was giving her.

“Yeah,” Tyla replied with a lash of her multi-colored tail. “And what of it?”

Fleck cleared her throat. “I just wanted to have a friendly talk with you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, I kind of would,” Tyla said, spitting onto the ground next to Fleck’s paws. “Now go away before I make you, streetcat.” Tyla began to rudely shut the door, nose turned up in disgust.

“Wait!” Fleck stuck out a paw to stop the door from shutting. “Please don’t.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Tyla retorted hotly, glaring at Fleck, her eyes alight with smoldering hatred.

“Because...” Fleck searched for a reason, any reason, that might make the impossible cat change her mind. “Just give me a chance to talk to you. Please? About anything you want. I just want to get to know you.”

“And why do you want to ‘get to know me?’” Tyla questioned. “I assume it is because you want something from me. Is it information, food, refuge...? Just be out with it, streetcat! You’re wasting my time!”

“All I want is a talk,” Fleck replied cooly. “Now if you’ll just let me...”

“Fine,” Tyla snorted moodily. “But this had better be good.”

Tyla opened the door a bit more so that Fleck could squeeze inside. The house was in shambles. The carpet had been torn to shreds, an armchair was overturned, the coffee table had scratches gouged into its mahogany surface, the silk curtains were tattered with claw-marks and the walls were so beat-up that they looked like they were hundreds of years old and belonged in an abandoned house. Tyla obviously had anger issues and took it out on her home.

Fleck coughed nervously. Tyla showed her to the ripped-up couch that was miraculously still standing. They sat down and Tyla began to speak, still having not lost her snotty manner.

“So, you’re obviously here for more then just a chat,” Tyla grumbled, shooting her guest another dirty look. “So what are you here for.”

“I’m here for just what I said that I was here for,” Fleck summed up evenly. “A friendly talk.”

“Whatever.” Tyla rolled her eyes, obviously unsatisfied with Fleck’s answer. “So what are you going to talk about.”

“We are going to talk about whatever you like,” Fleck replied contemptuously.

There they sat for quite a while, neither saying a word and both of them lashing their tails. Tyla was sending a barrage of foul looks at Fleck, who pretended not to notice. The questioning wasn’t going as Fleck had hoped and she didn’t need another disappointment.

“So did you hear about the tree murders that happened on the North side of the kingdom?” Fleck asked as casually as possible.

“Yeah,” Tyla replied. “Most have. Word of something as big as that gets around pretty fast.”

“I see,” Fleck said with a small nod. After a minute’s hesitation she added, “Could you tell me a little about yourself? I heard that you were badly affected by the war. What was it? The latest battle?”

“Yes,” Tyla replied with a fiery intensity burning in her eyes. “Both of my brothers, Thor and Slasher, died in that horrible, bloody battle. Ooh, Slate and his foul guards! I wish that they would all just drop dead! And if anyone hear deserves to die it’s dumb old Ember. He’s the worst king there ever was and that’s including Slate. He’s such a horrible leader and doesn’t do a thing whenever there’s a battle. When my poor brothers died there was no funeral. In fact, the cats that died and weren’t claimed were going to be just left there to rot! Luckily everyone who died was claimed, but still it’s such a cruel system.”

Fleck had to agree. “Yes, it doesn’t really sound like something that Ember would do. It’s so heartless.”

“Well he did it, all right!” Tyla exclaimed heatedly. “He got his when those three cats died. It just goes to show him that he’s torn this kingdom to pieces and now its going to eat him alive! If you ask me, we should overthrow that fiendish king.”

“Hm,” Fleck murmured, collecting her thoughts.

“I haven’t had a night’s rest since my brothers died.” Tyla’s looked as though she was on the verge of enraged tears. “They were my life. And now they’re gone. I think that he should have just surrendered his kingdom to Slate from the beginning. That would have saved more lives then I could count.”

Fleck nodded in agreement. “I think that he was too proud to just let Slate take it without a fight. Either that or he was afraid that his cats would object to this and call him a coward.”

“Well he is a coward!” Tyla instead angrily. “This kingdom would do better if he was dead and gone.” A silence filled the room after this statement. Tyla’s cheeks flushed as she realized that she had said the wrong thing. “Sorry. I talk to much. I shouldn’t have said that. Good-bye.”

Fleck said her thanks and left southward where FireClaw lived. Once there, on Clarence Street, she headed towards his home, witch was not far away at all. It was only a couple of houses away when she was delayed by bumping into another cat on her way there. Both had been in an obvious hurry and hadn’t payed any amount of attention whatsoever to the other pedestrians.

Fleck got up and for the first time got a good look at the cat that she had knocked into and who had not yet gotten up. He was a molded orange tom with dark brown eyes and a white muzzle, chest and paws. The tom was rubbing the top of his head, which had evidently hit the sidewalk at the collision.

“Hello, sir,” Fleck said politely. “I’m so sorry that I knocked you over. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Nor was I,” the orange tomcat said as he got up. He looked her up and down, trying to see if he could remember who she was. When he couldn’t figure out her identity, he asked, “And you’re Miss...?”

“My name is Fleck,” Fleck answered. “Your’s?”

“FireClaw,” he muttered in reply, resuming rubbing his head, which was growing a nasty-looking bump.

Fleck was both surprised and relieved. Now she might be able to talk with him without that same horrible reply of an awkward introduction that included her suggesting a ‘friendly little talk.’

“FireClaw...” Fleck intoned, acting like she was searching for something. “For whatever reason, that name rings a bell. Do I know you from something? Odd thing is, I don’t recognize your face.”

“Um, I’m the one that found the cats that were murdered,” FireClaw offered awkwardly. “I don’t know if that’s it, but--”

“It is!” Fleck exclaimed happily. Then her voice lowered into something more dark, but with an empathetic understanding as she said, “That must have been awful, seeing them like that.”

“It was a... surprise,” FireClaw said with a shrug. “Really nothing more then that. I have seen plenty of dead cats, what with all of these battles. The worst part is, I don’t know if this kind of thing is going to happen again. And... and if I’ll be the next victim.” FireClaw gave a bit of an exaggerated shudder, one which Fleck couldn’t tell if it was fake or genuine.

“Did you know any of the cats who died?” Fleck asked with a small, inquiring tilt of her sandy-colored head.

“No,” FireClaw answered with a shake of his head. “It’s a shame that they died, isn’t it? We’re already short on able-bodied cats and there’s no way that we’re going to win this war if this kind of thing keeps up.”

“That’s what Slate wants,” Fleck muttered, feeling sick of this war. Everything was so upside down. After a pause she asked, “Do you know any cats that could be the murderer?”

Again the answer was no. “If I had, they would have already been questioned,” FireClaw claimed.

“Well, okay, just wondering,” Fleck said carefully.

“Fleck, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to go. Maybe I’ll see you around.” FireClaw gave her a farewell flick of his slender tail.

“Where are you going?” Fleck asked, mostly out of curiosity and not suspicion.

“To the bakery,” FireClaw replied with a somewhat practiced air. “I’ve got to go and get some bread.”

Normal enough. But somehow... “Okay then. Good-bye.”

After they departed, Fleck left for Ember’s chambers, eager to report everything to him... And to have a delectable dinner with him.

______________________________________________________________________

-KittyLover8

© 2013