Tauli

"I'm not bloody... Yet."

Kristen shuddered, "Can you get even more creepy?"

"Yes?" The boy cocked his head, "Would you... Be into that?"

The cook shuddered and pointed at the door, "Don't be gross. Go away."

"No. I'm hungry. Feed me."

She rubbed tiredly at her face, "You're going to make me call the guards on you, again, aren't you?"

"Mmm. You could do that... Or you could feed me." The rat smiled prettily at her, tailing flicking back and forth behind them excitedly.

She couldn't help herself, looking at his hand that should have been burned to a crisp. A few hairs on the back of it looked mangled from the contact with the oil, but other than that... He seemed fine.

Kristen had tried to rack her brains to work out why the ratata had turned up in her cellar, or why he completely refused to leave. She wasn't anything special. A restaurant owner, and nothing more.

Clearly, this ratboy had some kind of magic. Kristen knew exactly nothing about magic, even though she knew en Lytara. Knowing that one just made her think that magic was the kind of thing a human wasn't supposed to touch.

"Fine. I've got some slop around here, somewhere." She pretended to grumble, and pulled out a basket of cold chicken that she'd cooked and set aside for him earlier. She rubbed her shoulder as she put it up on the bench beside him.

He grinned at her, his tail flicking back and forth a couple times like a flag. He tossed a piece into the air and snagged it in-between his teeth. Smiling at her before gulping it down. "Ta."

Kristen rolled her eyes, "Well, if I can't get rid of the infestation, I can always just put down some poison. Apparently you'll eat anything."

"Ain't poisoned." He spoke with his mouth full, "Not that it would do anything, if it were. You're worried about the axomander?"

Kristen frowned, "I just threatened to kill you, and you're interested in what's making me feel anxious?"

"Mmm. I'm all about you." He nodded, looking at her with his innocent black eyes.

She sighed heavily, "Riight. Well, ya stink like rat. So can you stay the fuck out of my kitchen? And don't follow me. I'm going to go check the eggs. I don't need you upsetting my hens."

As the cook left through the back door, she heard the door as he silently followed after her. Trailing behind, but absolutely ignoring her. She didn't know what she was going to do about him.

It'd be easier if she didn't have a soft spot for the man.

---

"What do you think we should do with this one, boys?" The leader of the group who had burst into the little hut asked, pushing her against the wall and gently tracing his knife against her cheek.

He was answered with a bunch of hearty laughter.

The nineteen year old catgirl made her blue eyes water, and her bottom lip tremble. She couldn't do anything about her grey furred tail sticking straight up in the air, but they didn't seem like the most observant bunch. "P-please don't hurt Ink."

"Oh, we're not going to hurt you, darling." The man laughed callously, "You're just going to help us out a bit. Ya see, since the slaves got freed, me and the lads... Well, we haven't had a lot of entertainment. So we're going to have a party."

"A-a party?" She trembled, despite the black-furred ears sticking out of her coal-black locks going flat in a flash of insult and rage. Godsdamn, these morons didn't even know who she was, and they thought they could just fuck around with her.

"Yeah. Just a party." He leaned in close so she could smell the foxpaw on his breath, and he whispered in her ear, "And you're the entertainment, love."

He spun her around and shoved her face first into a set of shelves. One of her potions wobbled and fell with a crash to the floor. She heard his belt releasing as he put his knife to the back of her neck. The ground briefly shook beneath her feet.

He pulled up her dress and grabbed her panties and yanked them down.

"You seriously going to let him fuck you, sister?" A cold and angry voice demanded.

"Wha...?" The bandit got out before Artema's fist dropped him to the ground.

Ink turned around and pulled her panties up from around her knees and glared at her sister. Speaking rudely in first-person, "You couldn't even give me five more minutes? This is why I moved out of the capital! You never let me fuck with anybody's head."

"You're the crown princess." Artema replied stiffly, her golden furred ears on top of her head going flat. Her sister's glare was as unsettling as ever. Her left eye was like Ink's, a deep blue, but the other was golden like most nekos.

The two of them were halfbreeds, but though they had been born within moments of each other, they didn't share fathers. Artema was half-human, fathered by their mother's husband.

Ink, on the other hand, was the result of an elf who had gone too far. Artema's father had beheaded the man whilst he was still in the act, kickstarting the path their mother had taken to seize control of the empire.

The halfelf had been born first by a couple moments. Born already casting magic. Which meant that, as firstborn, she was expected to become the next empress. However she hated politics and all that drama.

All she wanted was to be left alone to experiment with magic and the natural philosophies. Ink was about as far from defenceless as anyone could get. The deities had asked her if she wanted to be acknowledged as a demigod when she was still a kitten. She turned them down.

Artema, on the other hand, had been born fighting. She'd punched Ink unconscious as her first act before she even cried for the first time. She was a stiff rule-following warrior, all the way through.

She might be a princess, but she was also the captain of the Special Operations unit of the Royal Guards. The Irregulars. It was her responsibility to quietly remove threats to the imperial family before anyone even knew that there was a threat.

Ink found her hard to tolerate.

"Come on." Artema snapped her fingers and about-turned, "Mother has requested your presence. Artema's lads will clean up this mess."

Ink groaned loudly, "Aww, gods. What voiden thing does she want this time?"

---

Treichnor's throat was parched long before he finally spotted land. His wings were exhausted, and his entire body ached, but when he did spot the portside city that the crazy old sailor had described, he couldn't help but crack a smile.

Nobody else had believed the town nutter, telling him that to the south there was nothing in the water, not even fish. However, most of the things he had described, including fish the size of full boats or bigger, had turned out to be true.

What a wonderful world they lived in.

Treichnor had flown over, circling the city before deciding to land a short distance away and walk in, pretending to be just like everybody else. Hopefully the language of the mythical continent wouldn't be too difficult for him to pick up.

He could see humans here, descendants that had managed to somehow emigrate over a sea that he had struggled to fly over. It had taken him a week to get here. He couldn't imagine trying to do it by boat. The storms would shred most.

The first settlers must have been brave, stupid, or both.

"What is your purpose in this city?" A guard barked at the gate. It was a dialect of the human tongue. Different than what he was used to, but not exactly more difficult to grasp than the various slang he had encountered.

"Food. Water." He spoke truthfully, voice rasping.

The man took another take at him and reached for his sword cautiously. Not drawing it, but being prepared. "Pull back the hood, stranger."

He flicked it back with a nod of his head, revealing the black scales that ran over most of his skin. His face was clear of them, framed by them instead. However his eyes were completely black, as if they were all pupil. A short cropped and spiked bush of hair stood out of the top of his skull.

"Black dragon." The guard said quickly releasing his blade and holding up both his hands in the universal sign for peace. "I meant no offence, sir."

"I stranger. Not know this place." He replied, "Where find food?"

He'd found that asking about restaurants and taverns always tended to disarm humans when they found out what he was. Something about removing their expectation that he was about to try and devour them.

Racist morons.

As if he would eat a living person. That was something that the lesser salamanders might do, but not a black-scaled. His kind weren't just stronger than the rest, they preferred lives of solitude because they preferred a life of peace.

If he hadn't just spent a ton of energy by flying over the ocean, he wouldn't need to eat at all. Black salamanders had been known to hibernate for hundreds of years at a time, sometimes only being awoken by events in the world.

That was the case for him, as well. An upstart exotic taking over the human empire. Blowing up slavery the world over and outlawing it. There never was much like a neko for causing absolute chaos.

Treichnor, however, had heard about the death of not just his king, Irrlichdan, but also the next. The pain of hearing about that kind of loss had been enough for him to take a chance on running away to another world.

A new and strange land.

"The market place is just this way, sir." The guard said, offering to lead him into the city. The behaviour felt odd, strange. Treichnor was more used to being treated like an unruly beast.

It seemed that dragonkind were respected, here.

He pulled his hood back up, "Thirsty."

"The well is just this way." The guard showed him into the bustling city. The streets weren't cobblestone, but seemed to be some kind of flat brickwork, laid out in interlocking patterns that seemed to show symbols that he couldn't read, telling some kind of story.

The town square was bustling, and people were lined up with buckets to take their turn at the well. However, the guard led him right by all of them, and handed him a wooden ladle before drawing up the bucket of water.

Nobody complained, just waited for him to take his fill.

His forked tongue flicked the surface a couple times, checking to see if there was anything in the water that might cause him problems. It was astonishingly clean, like it was fresh from the spring.

He sipped two ladle-fulls of water, before finishing and wiping his mouth, "Thank."

The guard bowed to him, "It is an honour to serve the royal house."

Royalty?

Well, technically. On merit, Irrlichdan had been his king, and a black salamander, as opposed to a red or blue. However, there was nothing that said only a black could be a king of the dragons. The king was chosen when he issued a challenge and nobody was able to beat him.

The colour of a salamander's scales was genetic. Which meant that Treichnor was very distantly related to Irrlichdan. However, the genes of a salamander weren't exactly fixed. In times of stress, or climate change, it was common to switch between male or female. Fully fertile.

There were rumours that the queen who had so recently fallen hadn't started out in life as a black, but a red. Treichnor had no reason to believe it hadn't happened, though he had never heard of that particular transition happening before. She would have been something new.

Maybe this city was ruled over by a salamander.

That would be something.

He pulled a silver coin from a sack tied around his throat and held it out to the guard for examination. "From far away. Can exchange?"

"Silver." The man said in surprise turning it over and looking at the roughly embossed image and handed it back, "Uh... Silver isn't used as a currency in this city, sir. Too many with allergies to it. We replaced most of our precious metal coinage with promissory notes about a decade ago. You can obtain those at the Mercantile Authority, that building there, sir."

Ah. Heavy traders. That might explain why the guard was still treating him as royalty despite him being an obvious foreigner. Whilst he doubted there was much trade coming in from the north and his homeland, it was quite possible that this continent had flourished in life.

He nodded his thanks, before frowning, "Need register?"

"No sir. Royalty are exempt from the petty squabbles of civilian life." The guard replied and bowed, "Simply show your face, m'lord, and anyone will help you. I am afraid I must return to the gate."

"Mmm." He nodded, and then turned and looked at the Mercantile Authority. The architecture was odd. All pillars and slanted roofs. The work of highly skilled stone masons. Yet, at the same time there were no statues or great works of art.

His heavy tail dragged out behind him from under his cloak, as he walked over and towards the building. He noticed that everyone he passed by took a doubletake, and then seemed to bow to his shadow. He found it... Disturbing.

---

Ink was everything that Artema found impossible to tolerate. Her sister's entire life was devoted to avoiding her duties, attempting to break the laws of nature, and generally revelling in chaos.

There was no discipline, no honour.

There was, however, one singular thing that the two could bond over. Artema had been instructed by their mother to attempt to get along with her sister, and it wasn't in her to disobey an imperial decree.

She looked at the woman staring out the carriage window at the city like she was being caged, and spoke quietly, "Artema... Has a new boyfriend."

Ink whirled around with bright eyes, "Spill! What's his name? What's he do?"

"Koustoff. He's a tauran in the irregulars." Artema said sheepishly.

Her eyes twinkled, "Tauran, sister? Ink didn't realise that you liked the big ones. He split you in half, yet?"

"Maybe." Her cheeks went bright red, "He maybe was the only one around when Artema went into heat. And he maybe tried to restrain her. And she maybe tied him up and begged him until he let Artema play with him."

Ink giggled, "Lots of knots in your play, sister?"

"I dated a sea captain last time." She said coldly, "What do you think?"

The blue-eyed neko giggled and relaxed, "That's the only drawback of having Ink's lab outside the city. She doesn't meet enough boys. She hasn't had nothing between her legs not homemade in weeks... What happened to the Captain Kaius? He was cute. Could Ink borrow him?"

"Take him." Artema sneered, "Just don't expect any loyalty. He came back from the west with a lamian mistress. A fucking snake! Such an asshole."

"He chose a fucking snake over the Artema?" Ink sounded incredulously, "She would have cut his member off and fed it to the snake."

She shrugged, "Unlike Ink, Artema doesn't commit crimes as often as she breathes. Feel free to fuck him. He's generally down at the ports."

"Ink might look like she's all play, sister, but she does want a loyal playmate." The halfelf said with insult, "She really does. She's just got an impossible heat cycle."

Artema had to admit that was true. It was one of the things that had first pushed Ink towards the alchemical magics and philosophies. Due to being part elf, Ink only got one day in six when her body wasn't a raging mess of sexual hormones.

Ink had been researching how to suppress those urges since she'd become an adult.

Artema, on her part, had a normal nekan cycle. For a day or two she became a raging kitty that could outfuck most things on two legs, but for the rest of the month she had surprisingly little interest in sex.

Koustoff had been surprised that she didn't even want to hold his hand, but was accepting of her naturally cold behaviour. It wasn't like she didn't make up for it when she was in heat. And she let him pat her head, whereas anyone else touching it would quickly find a sword to their throat.

"Want Artema to try and arrange a date, again?" She offered genuinely, "Any of the lads would bed a neko, but a few of them would be more interested in your mind than your tits."

"Nah uh." Ink shook her head, "Swore off soldier boys. When they get sent to fight, Ink can't stand it. Her cycle kicks in so she's anxious, horny, depressed and angry. That's not living. It's torture."

Artema nodded sympathetically, "Sure."

"She doesn't know what Mother wants, does she?" Ink asked, going back to looking out the window and looking depressed.

Artema shifted uncomfortably, "She thinks... Mother is going to send one of us to the homeland. Maybe both."

"Desert." Ink shuddered, "Hates the homeland. Getting sand out of nekomimi is impossible. And the heat fucks all of her plants. Can't make normal elixirs. Has to be nekan style."

"She might find a tomcat." Artema tried to find a silver lining, but truth be told, she didn't want to go there either. She'd spent a lot of her time as a kitten in the desert, as their mother slowly killed off the threats that would wait for them in the city.

Ink glanced at her, "Artema okay? They used to call her mundane."

She winced as if she'd been slapped.

All nekos were born with magic. The ones with even more, like Ink, were called hooktooth, because of the two large fangs that descended over their top lip. They were renowned throughout the world.

Ink wasn't quite technically a hooktooth, so hers weren't very pronounced, but trying to fit her older sister into any kind of categorisation was destined to failure.

A neko born without magic was practically unheard of. A lot never used their magic because they couldn't control it, but there was a gaping chasm between that and having none. A magic-less neko was born a failure.

Artema had been born with very little magic, despite her father being one of the rare humans who had some. However, she'd grown out of it. Losing it altogether by her fifth birthday.

Mundane was a curseword. A word that said that you were useless. You weren't neko anymore. You were just a mundane. Less than a person.

She took a deep breath, feeling jealous of her sister as she always did. "The Artema doesn't need magic. She is the strongest neko this side of the homeland."

"Ink didn't mean it that way." The woman said sympathetically, "But if we go to homeland... Is Ink going to be ripping skulls for insulting her baby sister?"

"Call me your baby sister, one more time." Artema put a hand on her hilt.

Ink cooed and grinned at her, "Do you want to hurt her? Want to punish your big sister? She's such a naughty kitten. Maybe you will show her how to tie her up?"

"Gross." Artema rolled her eyes and looked out the window, "Just because other neko screw their family doesn't mean we need to."

"Ink agrees." The catgirl said lightly with a giggle. Just trying to get a rise out of her, like always.

The mundane woman gave a little sneer that became a growl, as she watched the road for any threats. There were always threats. Some came from within and the infernal politics of an empire. Others came from without. Crazies who couldn't stand a non-human ruler.

There were also religious zealots looking to sacrifice Ink to please their gods, or the ones who wanted to slay Artema and remove the curse of her existence. Those were more dangerous because they believed they were serving the empire, and would be welcomed into paradise in the next life.

"Would Ink have really screwed the bandits?" Artema asked quietly, disbelieving.

"Ink hasn't had any for months! Not since the hookteeth!" The catgirl complained, "She probably would have beaten them up, after, but the Artema has no right to judge her! She gets to have a big tauran dick. Ink gets green fruit. Not the same."

Artema shook her head, "Standards, sister. You should have some."

"Fuck off."

---

Tauli backflipped, being careful not to be break the cobbled streets before she landed on Skip's shoulders. Her thighs tightened to grab his neck and she reached up and grabbed onto the air, pulling them both skywards with a tiny tug that sent them flying.