Gripping the door’s lower knob and taking a brief moment to center his breathing, a cat in immaculate golden garb peeked his head into the sitting room he’d been directed to some minutes earlier and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Chicadino, sir?” he inquired.

[Image 1]

“Yes, yes, boy, come in! Please, take a seat!” Arthur chirped. “I recommend the one in your size, specifically, but you could try perching up on the lions’ chair, if you wish to try capturing the novelty of being miniature.” He gestured toward the large recliner built into the room’s wall, typically reserved for the larger felines of the palace. As a mixed meeting ground, accommodations were made throughout the building for species of all sizes, from the large doors and their multiple handles, to the tiny rodent-sized decks, currently sitting unlit in the corners of the room.

“No, that’s alright, Mr. Chicadino, I’ll stick with being me-sized for the time being.” The cat settled into the seat across from his host, testing its firmness with a few bounces. “I can’t thank you enough for taking time out of your schedule to meet, there’s this matter of a little business venture I’d like to discuss with you.” Chicadino mimed sipping from his glass, a formality he’d picked up working with mammals, as he had no lips.

“Ah, yes. You were hoping to use me and my connections as a stepping stone toward becoming a member of King Noble’s inner circle, was it?” he asked.

“Er, n-no,” the cat tittered, picking up his own glass. “I’m here to talk about the exclusive shipping rights for my goods? Through your company? Perhaps you’re confusing me with someone else, I’m Hav-”

“I know exactly who you are.” The silence hung in the room for a moment as Chicadino stated a fact, not an assertion.

“Havel Follwhisker, born in ‘34 on Wintember 14th to Leopold and Gracie Follwhisker. Graduated from NYA with degrees in alchemy and business and founded a metalworking company specializing in gold and other precious metals after inheriting a small fortune. Appeared in Purrsuit’s 20 Up-And-Coming Business Owners last year and as of about nine hours ago, strangled to death, buried approximately twenty kilometers outside of Feliad city limits, and replaced by a monster wearing his name.”

The cat sitting across from Chicadino choked on his wine as if realizing it was poisoned.

“Pa’s claws, Chicadino, I’d heard you were funny, but I’m not so sure I share your sense of humor,” he gasped, taking another quick sip of wine to stifle his coughs. “-Almost thought you were serious for a second there.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve done quite a lot of work mimicking his appearance, his gait, and his way of speaking, as you’ve always done,” Chicadino said, as though dismissing the argument of a child. “You’ve even replicated his little golden fang.”

[Images 2+3]

“Although personally, I’d say the real thing was much gaudier.”

[Image 4]

As the cat’s body slowly unfolded and unraveled down invisible, tightly constructed seams, the creature in its place refused to break eye contact with Chicadino for even a second, to the point where he wondered whether it could blink at all. When it seemed that the thing sitting before him realized he would not be fazed by its appearance, it spoke, simply.

“How,” it said, with no inflection, but ostensibly as a question. “How did you find that.”

“As I said: I know exactly who you are.”

[Image 5]

“Poda. Maman draconica. Hand of the Specter of Fate,” Chicadino listed off names and titles and the creature before him twitched at the sound of each. “I also know that the real reason you agreed to meet with me was so that you could exploit this opportunity to eat my memories, murder me, and then take control of my position as one of Noble’s dearest friends.”

“And why, if you’re so familiar with me, would you willingly throw yourself into my path?” asked Poda, settling into her underlying persona. “There are much more satisfying means of suicide to pursue, if you so desired.”

“Let us say…” Chicadino made a show of mulling it over in his head for a moment. “-that I am a fan of yours. Or perhaps, it may be more accurate to say it’s the other way around.”