Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 7 - Chapter SS2

Four Legs and Two

Nimble yet massive, the feet dancing across the rooftops would have been well served by a comic-book thud to punctuate every step.

The feet belonged to a cat.

But the cat was very big.

At least a meter long without counting the tail, the cat boasted a double coat that puffed him up to be even bigger. A dark, near-black splotch could be found on his face, but the rest of his coat was brown or slightly off-white.

The imposing feline was Lord Ludwig, the cat lord of Marsheim. His dignified jaunt was precisely the stuff of royalty, enough to make the napping cats of town straighten themselves out as soon as they sensed his gallant approach.

“Get your ass back here!”

One sunny afternoon, the composed ruler twitched his ear at a sudden shout.

The vulgar remark was, obviously, not made toward him. No fool in all the Empire was stupid enough to hurl such disrespect toward the keeper of their city’s hygiene.

Curious as to what the hubbub was about, the cat lord looked down from the rooftop to see a gaggle of lamentable humans embroiled in the conflict they were so fond of.

Two two-legged beasts scrambled through the alley below. Not only did they lack his feline grace, but the curious things liked to run around all day with weapons tied to their waists.

Ludwig recognized the one who’d shouted: it was the blond boy he had his subjects pass chores to. If he recalled, he’d even given that human a reward.

Yes, not only was he fast for a clumsy two-legged thing, but the boy understood the meaning of respect: he did his work properly and didn’t jealously reduce cats to “beasts” when not in their presence. As such, Ludwig had high hopes for the child.

These were a species of human known as “adventurers.” They liked to run hastily around the city, and they’d been doing so since the days when Ludwig’s soul had resided in a normal cat serving a different cat lord. Though he’d since changed coats, as they liked to say, nothing had changed.

“All you have to do is pay your tab!”

“Shut up! What’s a baby adventurer know, anyway?!”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a guy who can’t pay for his own damn drinks!”

Today, it seemed the boy had been tasked with collecting the shinies from some fool who hadn’t paid for his orders. Backbreaking work, surely. Ludwig posted up on a nice vantage point and decided to watch the silly creatures madly stumble about to pass the time.

His chosen perch was the wall of a steeple; for you see, the shackles of the ground meant little to a cat lord. If need be, the mechanism of an individual body could be forgone as well.

The reason he didn’t was simple: humans liked to floof a fluffy coat.

“The innkeeper said he’d let you off with three days of dishwashing!”

“Shut it, runt! You don’t know how busy that place gets! He’ll make me mop the floors too—I know it!”

“If you’re in there enough to know that, then you should just pay your damn tab!”

The last time Ludwig saw this boy, he’d been using the same words those self-styled “highborn” people liked to use. But today, he was talking much more sloppily. Maybe he was acting tougher to match the person he was speaking to.

What a hassle that must be. Cats gave their all to be cats; not only did humans have to put on decorations to be human, but they had to think about their language too. For some, being human itself was not enough: they tried to break free from their bounds.

They were so busy—and so lovable.

“Mrooow.”

The cry of one of his subjects caught the cat lord’s attention. He turned to see a youngling—not even ready to find purchase on vertical walls—holding a rat in its mouth. He’d only recently laid waste to those servants of the Plague King, and yet here was another; they must have been multiplying to wreak havoc once more.

Out of the corner of Ludwig’s eye, he saw the fleeing man drop after an eight-legged human jumped on him from above. It seemed humans could be smart, at least when they were hunting: the boy had chased his target right into his partner’s trap.

Ludwig yawned, stood upright, stretched, and then scratched his nails on the wall. Sharp enough to shatter even the mightiest of blades, his claws left a clear mark in the stone and peeled away the crumbling outer layer.

Hopping down to the ground from a height that would kill an ogre, the cat lord found a random gutter and slipped into the darkness.

The humans were hard at work; it was only fair that he did his part.

Humanity lived with danger all around. The Plague King was a fallen god who now took the form of squirming rats, constantly seeking to feed upon the dead and spread malady amongst the living; the roaches that fed on resentment from the poor and unwashed were avatars of the Impure Tragedy. They never learned, always trying to grow their armies.

Those fools didn’t see humanity’s true value. Humans were not put on this planet to be killed or eaten, but to pet and to serve as a warm pillow on a cold day.

Unbeknownst to mankind, the cat set off to be a cat—he would protect them from the looming evils that threatened their very existence.

[Tips] Cat lords are intelligent commanders of their four-legged brethren who—for some reason—work to keep streets clean for the betterment of humanity. None truly know why they do so, but their correlation with the cleanliness of the towns they inhabit has led to reverent treatment across the Empire.