Chapter Text
Perhaps it spoke more to the convention of stories that seemed to permeate Überwald at times like a mist, or, rather, a conveniently timed lightening crack - regardless the Amazing Maurice and young Ainsel (it means fox) Fuchs were able to find a roadside inn to stay the night before it got too dark.
Initially Ainsel was all for sneaking into the attic quiet as a mouse, which only made Maurice shake his head. For starters mice were rowdier than one would think, though not as rowdy as some rats Maurice had known, especially with hats. But with a bit of explanation, Maurice was able to describe ‘ The Old Rat-Catching-Cat Payment* ’ to Ainsel who, as Maurice explained, seemed to grin wider and wider as he listened.
[*The Old Rat-Catching-Cat Payment went as follows: Lad shows up unable to pay for his stay. Offers rat-catching-cat as payment. Cat demonstrates prowess, (which would be a bit tricky considering the lack of rats in their group, but Ainsel was confident he could talk up Maurice's prowess to the owner). They stay a cushy day, maybe two but that's really stretching it. Lad bids a tearful farewell to the Cat that could win the Actor's Guild Academy Awards. Hours later, Cat leaves of his own accord.]
“And no one gets hurt, yes?”
“No. I mean, yes. That is to say,” Maurice sighed, and tried to reign in any sign of exasperation on his part. His paws were hurting. “Right, no one gets hurt."
“Except the rats, possibly.”
Maurice made a vague sound in response.
“And ve shouldn’t stuff ourselves on their food,” continued Ainsel, looking down the hill at the Inn, especially its windows and doors. “Or take more than we need to. If belly is too full we won’t be fast.”
Maurice stared. “What?”
“Ze plan B. Just in case. When things go kaput.”
“ If things go kaput you mean,” indicated Maurice with a raised paw. “And it won’t. It’s such an easy play kid, I could do it in my sleep.”
Ainsel nodded without looking at Maurice, he seemed to be counting. “It is a solid plan, Herr Maurice. Formidable even. But there is still ein Problem.” Ainsel gestured to Maurice to come forward, and pointed towards the Inn. “ Hunde .”
Maurice followed Ainsel’s gesture, and groaned audibly, “hunde.”
There, bounding along a young washerwoman, probably the Inn Keeper’s Daughter in convention with narrative storytelling, was a tannish red hunting dog.
“Well it’s not a rat terrier.”
Ainsel shifted, resting on his stomach, his chin in his folded arms. “No, not terrier, there is truth in this.” Ainsel furrowed his brows as he stared intently at the dog, then clicked his tongue. “ Ookay . I think we can make this work.”
“What? You just called it ‘ein problem’. Make up your mind.”
“Problem.” Ainsel sucked on the side of his cheek in thought. “Tricky. But! Not impossibility.” He pointed at the hound as it rolled in some dust. “Attention to the paws, it looks too big for the body. Hubertsons get much bigger. Good chance it is,” he faltered, then rallied faster than recovering from a hiccup, “ a baby."
“Puppy.”
“Ja. Which means! Might not have started its training.”
“Training?”
“To, ah, jagd, em. No, no don’t tell me,” Ainsel made a gesture in the hopes this would help him remember the word. “...Hunt!”
Maurice’s tail was already drooping since Ainsel’s crossbow gestures, and said flatly, “It’s a hunting dog?”
“Not full fledged. Probably can’t even find its own bone. Look at the feet, the extra skin. Besides, this is used for big game, not rats.”
“Oh!”
“If it were older we’d be in trouble. It could probably track us down for hours. Long grueling, seemingly endless hours. Always worried and looking over our shoulders. Sleeping in trees. Back tracking, cross tracking.”
“Should I be worried you find that exciting?”
Ainsel shrugged with a little laugh. “ No worrying. But! What is life if not with a tiny thrill? I’m,” he gestured his hand in a ‘so-so’ expression, “sure it won’t come to this exaggeration. Besides it is not Lipwigzers, nor Werewolf. Easy-peasy. Further besides, I like thrill, yes, not confrontation.”
“Speak for yourself kid, I’m the Cat of this operation. Not that I’m worried of course. I’ve scared off nastier canines in my lifetimes.” One experience did take one of his lifetimes, but that was neither here nor there. Well, a little there when it got particularly cold for his bones.
Ainsel looked Maurice over, and smiled like the sun. “Herr Maurice, you help me become Lord Mayor, and I help you never worry about dogs.”
“Oh, well then,” Maurice's tail swished slowly, he cleared his throat and watched as the hound sniffed at the dirt it had just finished rolling in, “it shouldn’t be too hard I suppose.”
“And it’s only for a night, no?”
“No. I mean, yes, that is - ugh, Correct. So, what’s your angle?”
“Can you pretend to like dogs?”
“ What ?”
❧❧❧
Maurice was not a happy cat.
He was repressing every impulse to bat a livery wet nose out of what was left of his ear while drool currently dripped down his recently very well groomed back. But this was part of The Act. A dog owner interested in a cat, no matter how great a rat-catcher or Amazing, would want to be sure it could get along with a prized hunting dog. Specifically, by not scratching out its nose.
In truth he would have turned tail the moment Ainsel suggested it. But it was their first trial run at a con, and as interchangable as Maurice would have liked to think the (not so) stupid looking kid could be, as there are bound to be hundreds of kids with worldly possessions tied up in a sack in such a story rich place as Überwald - well, one short end of a stick is too soon to throw the towel in on an idea is all, besides..
Maurice tucked his paws under himself so as to avoid any drool congealing on it, and watched Ainsel speak to the Innkeeper and her... daughter? Niece? Employee? The details were a tad out of Maurice’s reach due to the language barrier, but it was fascinating to watch the kid talk to them.
Ainsel’s already sunny smile beamed like a private sun, dazzling just for these people, as if nothing in the world mattered more than to make them laugh and be charmed, and it was working. Maurice nodded to himself approvingly, people skills were important, and this kid came off as a natural. Ainsel seemed like the kind of kid who would make Jack think his beans were magical, and walk away with a free cow. No, wait, the beans turn out to be magical after all in that one. Well then, the sort of kid to trick a friend into doing his chores for him, preferably of the painting fence variety. In other words, promising. A keeper even.
First con or not, Maurice could tell already he made the right choice with this (not so) stupid looking kid. They were going to be as thick as thieves - or, well, if Maurice’s plan to make the kid Lord Mayor goes well: as thick as politicians. Not that there was much difference between the two.*
[Though some members of the Thieves Guild would protest against such a claim. Other members would likewise protest, but with their fingers crossed behind their backs. It's amazing what some people can manage to say with a straight face.]
Maurice would wait to say such thoughts out loud though, just in case. No use giving the kid hot air, it could go to his head. Besides, if the kid felt himself to be too self sufficient where would that put him? Usually it was Maurice talking his former group out of scraps, goodness knows Keith could hardly talk himself out of a paper bag.
Maurice shook his head, just barely causing some of the drool to fall away. The hound watched with fascination, and sneezed at Maurice. dog boogers added to the drool that now dripped from his whiskers.
One thing Maurice was sure of though, after this was done him and Ainsel were going to have Words. Lay some rules of does and don’ts or something. He’d be damned to have to put up with dog cuddles again.
Feeling he had filled his quota of appearing ‘Dog Friendly’ Maurice squeezed out from under the hound, and in a single silent bound hopped onto the table. He had to fight down an urge to hiss when barked at. But was rewarded with a quick shocked “Oh!” sound nearly universal to dog people everywhere upon realizing cats could just hop about in places unreachable by normal dog standards. This earned a prideful tailswish, and because he was feeling particularly vindictive, brushed himself against Ainsel to spread the slobber onto the lad. After all, a good team shares.
❧❧❧
“A fine Rüde hunde,” nodded Ainsel as he leaned his worldly possessions against the table of his room.
“Rude is right, eugh , it’ll take forever to get this stuff off of me.” Maurice complained while rolling on the stone floor.
Ainsel looked around the room. Practically bare. With two beds bunched up together, a table, window, half a candle stick, and a hole in the wall that passed for a private fireplace. To put it plainly, it was the sort of room the Igor of a well off family would stay in. The wall paper, however, was remarkably fresh.
It wasn’t bad, as such, and it’s not as though he needed more than this, besides his means of hypothetical payment was a cat.
But, well, Maurice made it sound like wandering youths doling out precious near the heart belongings were, with sympathy, gifted the hospitality of princes on the off hand chance there would be something more. Ainsel found this fascinating, but had lived in Überwald all his life, and although story convention is like second nature, or rather, part of nature in Überwald, there was such a thing as realism.
There were far more depressing reasons behind the birth of certain grim folktales.
But Ainsel didn’t want to think about that. Besides, as Maurice liked to point out, he was the Magical Talking Cat of the operation.
Hopeful luxurious outcomes or not, Ainsel had certainly spotted far more extravagant rooms with four poster beds of engraved cherry wood, lace, and a small table with more than one chair to accommodate more than one person, and a couch! With rich dark green leather. Not to mention the finely gilded fireplace. Ainsel sighed. He didn’t need much, as the old Potato religion said ‘There’s more than one way to make a jacket potato,’ but Ainsel did appreciate comfort with style .
“Is there any way I can help with the, erm,” Ainsel gestured to all of Maurice.
“Hm?” Maurice looked up mid lick. “Tempting, but I’ve got the sneaky suspicion the slob-meister, oh you liked that, huh? Well the slob-meister might do that again.”
Ainsel nodded, while lowering his hand from his mouth. “Most certainly. Besides, it will be most helpful when you need to sneak away tomorrow.”
“The scent, right.” Maurice watched Ainsel for a bit. “Not too shabby a place here.”
“Hm?” Ainsel was testing one of the two bunched up beds by pressing down on it. The springs went glink glink glonk .
Maurice watched the kid contemplate it with an air of, ‘well I’ve slept on worse’. “The Inn. Hm. Not bad.”
“Ja, not bad,” glink glink glonk .
“And the Innkeeper seems, nice. Is that her..?”
“Niece,” glonk glink glink .
Maurice nodded “Sure, sure. Thought it was something like that. Working for the season?”
“An extended stay,” said Ainsel, conscientiously. “Zey did not have to say it, I mean zey didn’t, but it is, ah, suggested something happened to Fräulein Dete’s parents.”
Youths suddenly staying with extended family was a rather commonplace occurrence in Überwald, so much so that it was generally common courtesy to not pry on the ‘ why ’. The why was, sadly, not too hard to guess. One could even make a spinning dart board of reasons, plague, war, famine, bad crops, border disputes, confusion of governments not entirely sure who is in charge, local fights between ruiling vampire counts and werewolf lords that make their problems your problems too, and so on.
Glink glonk glink .
“What makes you, would you quit it with the bed, what makes you say that?”
Maurice watched Ainsel’s face carefully. Which was easier said than done. Granted the sun-charm wasn’t ‘On’, but there was something Maurice couldn’t put his paw on. The amical charm was there, but...
Ainsel shrugged his response, and hopped onto the bed with a final glink glonk with his legs crossed. “Will you go a-hunting Herr Maurice?” Ainsel asked, smoothly changing the subject while idly picking up a small wooden statue from the bedside table, an arms behind his head. “Not that you really have to.”
“Well, look busy, seem busy, and who knows, maybe there’ll be a few little some-things to collect.” Maurice sat back, readying for Ainsel’s potential reaction. “Maybe shiny some-things?”
Ainsel sat up some, the sunny smile became a little less overcast. “Shiny is nice.”
“You’re fine with that?” went Maurice who was far more used to Keith trying to side step away from, well, indeterminate borrowing .
Ainsel shrugged, returning to examining the tiny decorative statue. “Is there honest poverty?” He placed the statue down and looked around the room again, “This is good wealthy inn, there is probably a good wealthy town up ahead that good wealthy people enjoy traveling to, and sometimes good wealthy people do not keep track of time because that can be something that other people have to worry about, so! Enter this Inn, which becomes popular, and good and wealthy.”
The bed went a barely audible glink as Maurice leapt onto it. “You took the words right out of my mouth, kid.”
“But,” Ainsel hesitated, “let’s not take too much.”
“Read you loud and clear, just something they wouldn’t miss. We don’t want to give them any reason to put that hunde of theirs to good use, that’s for sure."
“Perhaps while putting in a show-”
“- on a show.”
“ On a show, yes thank you, on a show out of chasing a rat. It’d be a shame for something to be knocked over and rolled away, and lost, no?”
“No. I mean, well, yes ,” Maurice paused with his paws on Ansiel’s grinning face. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose.”
“Who? Me , Herr Maurice?”
“You’ve got cheek and a fast mouth kid, you’re lucky I like you” said Maurice, not unkindly. In fact one might even dare to say there was a pinch of fondness. Well, perhaps not say it, but certainly free to think it.
❧❧❧
Ainsel had a rather pleasant and relaxing evening, a nice dinner as well, and had a rather pleasant stroll with Fräulein Dete, which, likewise, served as a further surveillance of the grounds. They generally talked about anything and nothing, and shared the same dark humor as anyone else of their generation who grew up during the breaking of the Unholy Empire. And Fräulein Dete was a charming girl, roughly around his age, though her laugh could be, for no fault of her own, a little grating.
The stroll ended with him awkwardly ‘escorting’ her to the otherside of the Inn that, or something he said earlier, earned Ainsel the Disc’s most awkward and chaste peck on the cheek, as is custom to such youthful strolls. To which he just as awkwardly walked back to his room.
That was when he heard Maurice’s muffled voice. He waited momentarily to listen for any sort of response or another voice. Perhaps the price for working with a magically talking cat was finally coming with its bill, sooner than Ainsel had anticipated.
There was no other voice. Then Maurice’s again. Ainsel’s brow furrowed. Looking over his shoulder before doing so, he crouched closer by the keyhole to better assess the situation.
What followed was the tiniest, “Squeak!”
“Not the twitching whiskers. As if you’re not making this hard enough on me already.” Maurice gave an audible sigh and nodded gravely. “In order to know virtue we must first acquaint ourselves with mice .” There was such an air of weight to his words Ainsel had to clamp a hand over his mouth as quietly as possible.
Ainsel could hardly believe it. Maurice was, for lack of a better word, monologuing to the rodent!
It reminded Ainsel of old vampire stories from back home. How some vampires would try to assimilate with the village instead of flaunce about in their great big castles [a mental pause for lightening], and would instead do so in a country cottage.
This resulted with the occasional dead livestock, or cows with deeply low blood pressure, and a local folk legend of ‘Sobbing Bessy the Vampire Cow’ or rather ‘Schluchzen Sie Bessy, die Vampirkuh*’. As well as bringing about the oh so popular idiom ‘Vampirtränen’ or Vampire Tears**.
[*One could imagine the real origin being from vampires who tended to cry dramatically before tucking in. The tragedy of befriending one's food chain, and so on. They were indeed sad, but that didn't stop them from draining the cows like a well frosted smoothie on a particularly scorching summer day. Much is to be said about vampires who do this, especially those who do this to 'food' of the 'non-livestock' variety.]
[**Like Crocodile Tears, but with more dramatic flair.]
Mischief bloomed in Ainsel’s mind. He always wanted to try this, although he could never do something similar to a vampire. Well, he could , but only once .
Maurice patted the trapped rat awkwardly with his paw. “Soft so soft. Well, if you’re absolutely sure you can’t talk..I can’t stay these paws any longer,” and gobbled the rat.
Ainsel bursted through the door. “Oh mein gootness what did you do?! That was Überwaldian for ‘yes’ !”
Maurice halted mid- neck snapping-chew, a miracle in itself, and made vigorous ‘no way’ sounds.
“A strict dialect! Turnvise!” Ainsel continued in an exaggerated stage whisper while closing the door behind him.
Maurice spat with such velocity the rodent toppled wetly, with globs of saliva sticking to its fur, “ WHAT! ?” Panic rose into Maurice’s voice. “No. That can’t be! Right?”
“Wehe!” intoned Ainsel as seriously as his growing giggles could allow.
The rat, after regaining from its great sense of shock, scampered off like a shot, taking whatever bout to freedom by storm leaving little soggy footsteps in its wake. Something like this could hardly happen every day.
“Right??” Insisted Maurice, a suspicion of a mournful yowl in his voice.
It was enough for Ainsel’s restrained laughter to bubble over. Who knew a cat could have such a complicated expression! “V-vergib mir. Oh, Herr Maurice. I, hehe, I can’t, I’m sorry. I failed to resist!”
Maurice’s ears flattened.
“I have never heard of a katze who speaks to his- hee-hee-ah, food!” Ainsel wiped his eye, and quickly cleared his throat once he noticed Maurice was not taking the prank very well.
Ainsel wasn’t an expert in cat body language, but he could certainly spot a stalking action when he saw one. He backed a little closer to the wall. “I meant it with no harm.” He explained, feeling the need to raise his hands up in surrender as if Maurice was pointing a crossbow to him.
“You’re anger-erm- Angry ! This is fair. It, oh dear, that was probably your dinner. I really didn’t, look I won’t, it won’t happen aga-”
Maurice pounced.
“Not the face!!”
❧❧❧
They sat in the room in silence. Every so often Ainsel would open his mouth, then close it again. In the end he wasn’t as badly scratched up as he thought he’d be.
Maurice undulated between staring moodly at the table legs, to cleaning himself.
After a few more minutes of silence, Ainsel got up and left the room. Maurice stared at the door, then looked towards the direction he last saw the rat running.
He started to move towards it, then stopped and sat back down. In truth, as much as Maurice hated to admit it, rat just hasn’t tasted the same since all that business in Bad Blintz. He couldn’t remember a particular deal being made, with a particularly tall and boney figure, but sometimes he felt, well he wasn’t sure what he felt. Sometimes, though Maurice would never admit to it out loud, he’d go out of his way to avoid eating them. Sure, every so often he’d try rat, but, well ...
Wishing the thoughts in his head would quiet down a bit, Maurice went back to cleaning himself.
“Herr Maurice.”
Maurice’s ears perked immediately, smelling the sweet smell of ham before the door to the room opened again.
“Herr Maurice,” repeated Ainsel, closing the door carefully behind him before revealing a small bundle in his hand. “Une piece offering.” He took a few steps forward, crouched and revealed the bundle in its entirety.
There were several ham-rolls. Still warm from the steam rising from them.
“Hang on,” said Maurice quickly before the yearning of food could captivate his commonsense. “I thought everyone called it a night. Kitchen closed and all.”
“Zey are left-overs from a wealthy guest who just came,” Ainsel explained.
Maurice inched a little closer. Then stopped himself firmly. “You weren’t seen were you? Cause the last thing we need is a stunt to draw attention to ourselves before leaving.”
Ainsel shook his head “No one noticing me. All is well.” He offered the bundle with inviting movements.
Maurice refused to be swayed so quickly, and yet, and yet , “Well..you promise not to do that again?”
Ainsel nodded. “Promise. A talking cat unt his meal is his own business.”
“Hm, did you say that was fresh?”
Ainsel smiled like a sunbeam.“Zupah fresh.”
What can be said? Cat’s were infamous for sunbaths. “Alright kid, pass it over.”
They shared the late night ham-rolls amicably, chatting about the decor, and potential routes Maurice can take when it was time for him to sneak away, and Maurice mentioning a rather handsome looking bauble he picked up before.
❧❧❧
It was a nice and quiet dirt road. With birds screeching from tree to tree either combating for nesting territory, or, well, the usual scenario Spring is known for, especially in dreaded folksongs.
The tall fir trees bustled in the breeze creating a lovely shushing quality. With rays of sunlight peeking through the occasional branch. The smell of dirt rising up to meet them with every soft step.
For a moment, Ainsel thought of whistling. He was quite good at it, able to reach pitches with such clarity, it could turn any dog’s head. He started to do so, a sort of nonsense tune that occasionally tried to imitate the random bird twitter. Well, random to him at least.
This went on for some time as he waited. It was nice, doubly nice with the little extra weight in his pocket. It’d turn a nice profit when sold down the road.
Ainsel, occasionally leaning and pushing off from a tree, was rolling and unrolling a scarf in his hands . No one had noticed him take it, or walk away with it while giving a tearful goodbye to Maurice telling him to “be a good cat” and making Fräulein Dete sigh.
The scarf would serve as, nothing so sentimental as a momento as the next prop in Ainsel’s costume change before stepping through the curtains to the next stage, the next con.
It was while idly feeling the cashmere fabric of the scarf and idly wondering what else he and Maurice would get up to next, for truly they learned they could work well together despite a few bumps, that Maurice materialized as silently as he arrived, sat, and held back a yawn.“I’m tired of walking, carry me.”
Ainsel stopped whistling, and beamed. “Oh! Hallo Herr Maurice. Welcome back, I’m glad it went well.”
“Swell even.” Maurice stretched his back, it was a good stretch, and caused his rump to wiggle. “A successful first trial.”
“I am most pleased that is the case,” Ansiel said, pushing off to start walking.
“I’m serious kid, go on, carry me.”
Ainsel paused, and looked at him blankly. “...what?”
Maurice’s tail tip twitched from side to side as he brushed Ainsel’s ankles. “Go on carry me.”
“I didn’t take you for a,” Ainsel paused mid sentence, his face frozen. “Erm.” He looked like he was searching for something, his brow crinkled averagely. Giving up, with a bit of wind knocked out of his quip, Ainsel said, “A faule katze, Herr Maurice.”
“Fowl?” Maurice gave an unhelpful look of offense. “Ya got chicken cats around here too?”
“No, that’s not vat I-”
“I’m neither fowl, nor foul,” Maurice continued, the only hint of his teasing within the twitch of his whiskers. “Though I heard a dwarf say how Fair is Foul and Foul is...flair, or something.”
“No I meant-!” Ainsel tried a series of gestures and pantomimes.
Maurice watched fascinatedly, as it went on he tried very hard not to laugh.
“Lazy?” Maurice guessed at last, when he could no longer stand the mysterious pantomimes.
Ainsel clapped his hands and pointed at Maurice. “JA!”
“No, no. Smart, clever, amazing, and knowing when to take advantage of a situation? Yes, absolutely. I’m not some dog who needs to go on walkies, kid, I just caught up, and we’ve got miles ahead of us. That’s pragmatism for you my fine bipedal friend.”
Ainsel shifted his weight and stared at Maurice.
“Do you want to walk faster? Or do you want to keep a slow pace as you wait for my magnificent short legs?”
A resigned sigh left Ainsel, bending down. Only to quickly be faced with the same quandary as people who aren’t used to cats everywhere. “Erm. How do I..?” His hands hovered around Maurice, unsure. “ Hm. Let me just. Don’t hiss at me!”
“I’m not some sack of potatoes kid.”
“Just. Hold still-” A slew of Überwaldian followed. Maurice didn’t catch all of it, but he certainly caught ‘Katz’. Ainsel waved his hand painfully.
Maurice drew himself up coolly. “Not. The rump.” They shared a look, Maurice gave in. “Look just, put your arm down, or, yeah, sure both would work.” Maurice stepped onto Ainsel’s postured arms, and started to climb up to his shoulder.
“Ze claws! Mind ze, oof.” Ainsel readjusted his stick and sack of worldly possessions. “Settled?”
“Yep.”
“Oh,” Ainsel tried to ignore the minor smarting of pins in needles from Maurice’s claws, “zats nice.”
“Now mush!”
Ainsel looked up at the sky, seeking some sort of patience in the firmament above, though not without a shadow of a grin. He started to walk on.
The scenery continued to be lovely, the whistling continued, and the pace of the walk was certainly a little faster. Then, after a while, Ainsel’s shoulder, neck, and cheek tingled, and realized Maurice was purring. Though Ainsel doubted Maurice would ever admit to it. The kid smiled, and walked on, minding his footing along the way.