8 Rats and Cats

I certainly hadn't expected that my night would be spent like this. Walking down a moonlit street, following a white rat that called me "Peacemaker" was a scenario I had never imagined myself in.

"So," I ventured, after having followed this rat for about a block, "what's your name?"

"I am called Miratus," the rat replied. "I am a general in service Her Royal Majesty Giratina II."

"Who?"

"The queen of all rats in this city," Miratus explained. "She is most eager to meet you, Peacemaker."

"Right… alright… uh, why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because that is who you are."

"Of course, how silly of me."

Miratus paused, stood up on his hind legs and looked back at me, wrinkling his tiny little nose. "I realize this must all be very disorienting, Peacemaker, but I cannot tarry long enough to explain. We must get you to the queen before the assassins or the mice or the cats catch up."

He went back on all fours and continued along, all while I followed behind and tried to piece together what in all the hells was going on.

Cats and rats had started talking to me, and calling "Peacemaker" for some reason. Both had expressed fear of mice finding us, and the Miratus here didn't seem to keen on me reuniting with the cats, which implied that I had somehow ended up in a massive power struggle between the various small furry creatures of the Istalfax, with at least three factions. Also, somehow the Serpent Empire across the sea had come to conclusion that some random shopkeeper who wasn't even very good at his job somehow posed an existential threat to their nation, and had sent two agents to dispatch me, cleverly disguised as impossibly beautiful siblings.

I rubbed the stinging wound on my arm. Yeah, it still stung. So I probably wasn't dreaming any of this nonsense.

Probably.

"Serpentfolk assassins, I understand," I said, "but why is everyone so worried about mice?"

"You humans are so ignorant," Miratus said. "Mice are dangerous. You can parlay with dogs, birds at least respect shows of strength, and even cats can be reasoned with, but mice? Never trust a mouse."

Well that was an explanation that thoroughly explained less than nothing.

I was about to ask a follow-up question, when Miratus abruptly stopped and stood back up on his hind legs. Ahead of us was the grey cat who had woken me up. He was looking straight at Miratus with his one good eye.

"Miratus," the grey cat said. "I should have known I'd find you here, trying to steal away The Peacemaker."

"Nirir," Miratus replied. "You're still alive? Last time I saw you, you were disappearing beneath a sea of black fathers."

"It takes more than a handful of crows to kill me," the grey cat, who I guess was named Nirir, growled. "Though I don't suppose a coward like you would understand anything of a true warrior's resolve."

"You wound me," Miratus said. "Now go beg for fish in the gutter. I have more important matters to attend to tonight."

Nirir's fur stood on end and his tail puffed up and began swishing back and forth. "You will go no further with the Peacemaker, rodent."

"And who are you to believe you can stop me, feline?"

In a flash, the two furballs were rushing at each other. Nirir swiped his grey claws at the white rat, but Miratus dodged nimbly beneath him and between his legs, nipping at his heels. Nirir jumped backward, bringing his paw down on Miratus' head, and the rate squeaked in alarm and ducked backward. Nirir pressed the advantage, swinging his claws once again, but Miratus surged forward and rolled to the cat's side.

It was a deadly dance between two clearly seasoned combatants.

It was also adorable as fuck.

"Alrighty then," I muttered, "you two seem to have this well in hand, so I'll uh, I'll just be going."

They didn't respond, being more than a bit preoccupied with their death battle or whatever. So I hesitated a moment, then nodded at nobody in particular, and wandered off.

I was a block away when I heard a cry for help from a nearby alley, and I was inside the alley before I even realized I was responding to it. This turned out to be a poor decision on my part.

There, looking back at me in that alley, was not a citizen in need of aid, but rather hundreds of pairs of tiny black eyes, each belonging to a small mouse. Every single one was staring at me, and despite their faces not exactly being expressive, I could not shake the feeling that gaze was twisted in utter, passionate hatred.

"At last, we have you alone," one of the mice said in a small squeaky voice. "Now, Peacemaker, prepare to die."