Dagmar was bored. How long was it until midnight bell? It felt like an eternity had passed since he and Sigrid left the barracks for the early night patrol. It had to be less than 4, since midnight bell had yet to strike. He glanced over to his partner. No, no point in asking, she would probably just ignore him.
As the captain of the city guards, he was doing the annual “week in the trenches”, a week where he would take on the duties of one of the lower-ranked guards in order to foster tighter bonds and familiarity between the ranks. As per tradition, he had drawn lots for which task he was going to do, and had been assigned the night shift. This wasn’t in itself disagreeable, most of the time it involved either breaking up drunken brawls or strolling down quiet streets, depending on the route and time of night. Dagmar quite enjoyed the former and usually had no problems with the latter, there was always something interesting you could talk about to pass the time.
Unless you were paired with Sigrid of course. Sigrid was one of those people that enjoyed silence over having a conversation. That, coupled with the fact that their assigned route was along the edge of the market district - one of the quietest areas of the city at night - had made for long, boring, nights. At least the week was soon over, and he could get back to his usual work. Even paperwork was better than this.
Suddenly, Sigrid made the sign for “halt”, breaking him out of his thoughts. She pointed silently towards one of the stalls. Its cloth cover had come loose, moving slightly in the breeze. He shot her a questioning look, wondering why she had felt the need to stay silent.
‘Sound under cloth’, she responded with Grasfel hand-talk, a terse sign-language used in the army for silent operations. Sigrid had been an army lieutenant before she retired to become a city guard, so he was not surprised that she knew it.
They waited silently and after a few heartbeats, a dull thud resonated from below the cloth, as if someone was striking wood with metal.
‘Maraud devil?’ Sigrid signaled, casting a questioning glance at Dagmar.
After taking a moment to translate, he understood her meaning and groaned internally. Pester devil. Usually, the small winged pests would come in larger groups and try to steal anything small enough that was not nailed down. These groups were easily detected and dealt with by the city’s wards and mages, usually long before they became a problem.
Occasionally though, the more clever ones managed to sneak into the city undetected, and could work for hours to get at more valuable things. Judging from the sound, this one was trying to break into the stalls storage compartment using a metallic tool of some sort.
‘Agreed. Possible dagger. Careful with eyes.’ He responded. Pester devils were not particularly dangerous, but they were fast and fought dirty. If whatever the devil was wielding was sharp or pointy, it would almost certainly go for their eyes.
Seeing her understanding nod he continued, ‘Infiltrate, then shock-awe. I take point’
For now, their best bet would be to overwhelm it, making it flee without a fight. It might make more trouble elsewhere but it was not worth losing an eye to deal with it now. Once they got back to the barracks he would set the mages on it as they would be able to find and deal with the devil safely.
He activated his stealth Skills and crept over to stand beside the stall, pulling his dagger on the way. In quick succession, he ripped the linen cover away, growled fiercely, and reached forward menacingly with his dagger, making sure his face was set in an angry grin to amplify the effect.
The being below the cover responded with a terrified howl, cowering on top of the built-in storage space of the stall. Dagmar was preparing to defend his face from a flying pest wielding a sharp metal implement when he realized that the being sitting in front of him was not actually a pester devil at all. Instead, he found himself staring into the terrified eyes of a cat.
The young cat had pressed itself flat against the storage space lid at Dagmar’s frightening entrance, one of its claws stuck inside the padlock that held the two doors together. The cat glanced down to its stuck paw, but quickly put its eyes back to the perceived threat, letting out a series of growls and hisses. Dagmar assumed it was trying to scare him but it sounded more like that stilted and overly correct manner of speech people tended to use around guards.
The incongruous image of a cute little cat looking like it had just been caught red-handed in an attempted forced entry, coupled with the sudden release of tension, was too much for Dagmar. He barely had time to sheath his dagger safely before he doubled over laughing.
From his crouched position beside the stall, he noticed Sigrids skeptically raised eyebrow as she came to stand beside him. “He- hahah… He looked so guilty.” He managed to explain between breaths, having to suppress another burst of laughter at remembering the image.
After calming down he dried his eyes and straightened to look at the cat again. It too seemed to have calmed down, though it was still struggling to get its claw loose from the padlock.
“Aaaw, you’ve managed to get stuck, you poor little cat,” He cooed, “Here, let me help.”
He reached out, making sure to move slowly to not inadvertently spook the cat again. It eyed him warily, but otherwise held still, letting him grab its paw and pry the claw loose. Once its paw was loose it settled on the wooden surface and started cleaning itself, its sudden calm a stark contrast to how terrified it had been just moments before.
A short moment later, it looked up at him and let out a soft meow. To Dagmar, it sounded almost like it was reluctantly thanking him, which only served to melt his heart further. Letting out another delighted exclamation he reached out with both his hands, petting the cat vigorously to its delight
His joyful moment was interrupted by an impatient huff from Sigrid, “Captain, midnight bell is going to strike soon, you need to be at the barracks to receive the others’ reports”.
“Aw, come on, Sigrid, there’s still…” He was interrupted by the soft sound of the midnight bell, its single clear tone cutting his plea short.
After giving him a look that somehow managed to communicate the full pettiness of an “I told you so” while at the same time never losing the respect that was due a superior, she turned and started heading back towards the barracks.
Dagmar let out a sigh and turned back to the cat, grabbing it gently. “Well, down you go little one,” He set the cat down on the street and picked up the fastening pins for the stalls cover, “I’ll make sure this is tightly secured so you can’t get stuck again, ok?”
The cat looked put out by having its access to the stall revoked and Dagmar had to resist the urge to pet the expressive cat again. He made sure all the pins were properly set and started jogging after Sigrid.
“You stay safe now.” He said over his shoulder
He was sure he heard a “meow” in response.
lol this scene was the best!
Thanks!
It didn't exist at all until almost my final draft, it just kind of grew out of nowhere, so I'm glad you like it =D
This story is awesome. Glad I found it.