VII

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Mental teleportation (or was this astral projection? They would have to ask...) was a far less taxing means of travel than falling, fainting, or shrinking. What's more, the longer they spent in this state, the easier transit became. They were a fish swimming spiritual waters, following the gentle though determined current towards their goal. Well, they said 'goal,' but in the current, there was no desire, no anger. There was only assurance that they would arrive where they needed to be.

When the new scene faded into existence, Kitty was already standing in it, and was not surprised to realize it was yet another wooded clearing. However, the structure that towered over the trees was a particularly great shock.

"A castle? What in Fortune's fickle name—?"

Any further confusion was interrupted by a familiar voice and the clanking of metal. Two knights in armor dyed blood red were marching nearby, carrying a spit on their shoulders. Hog-tied to the spit, shedding rainbow tears, was Jeremy, who, even now, did not refrain from blathering on.

"His Highness knows not what he does

Arresting, imprisoning me just because

I read a few books in his royal collection

And suggested some titles are not worth reflection!

Furthermore, these knots are very inappropriate

For this kind of spit, I suggest a triumvirate

Of bow, hitch, and square knots, a noose knot too!

Wait, did I say noose? I meant slip knot, it's true...!"

After rolling their eyes, Kitty began sorting out the information set forth by the verbose creature. In the castle sat some royalty, that much was clear, and John's library was apparently part of their territory. Considering this was where their will led them in their search for the wily siren, Kitty could safely infer John was within said castle, but was he the royal, or some royal librarian? Which one made less sense? Or did making no sense make too much sense?

They would have continued to parse that puzzling line of thought had another knight not grabbed them from behind.

"Found another one!"

Kitty writhed and fought, but the knight was too strong.

"Defiant, aren't we? Well, we'll see how stubborn you are before the Red King, ye little spy!"

Rope came to life and bound their hands and legs, leaving Kitty no more mobile than a sack of cabbages as they were slung over the knight's shoulder. Though they were still annoyed by the ambush, at least it saved them the trouble of finding a way into the castle. With that mental energy no longer squared away, they turned their thoughts to finding John once inside. It made the harsh bumping of the knight's metal on their middle more pleasant.

At length, the pair reached the castle and Kitty's captor requested entry. The drawbridge of the grand structure fell with a groan as it admitted the pair, breaking Kitty's concentration. Just as well. They had not made much progress in formulating a plan. How could they, if they had never been inside a castle before? They had heard things, yes, and this interior was certainly living up to a legacy of wealth and finery, but these displays brought them no closer to success than the forest!

Grand wooden doors opened. Trumpeters blasted deafening fanfare as the knight carried Kitty into what they could safely assume was the Red King's throne room. They looked around, noticing a crowd of feline courtiers mewling cattily amongst each other. They did not think highly of Kitty, and were not shy about showing it. In fact, Lord Sam was just about to share a scathing remark about Kitty's clothes to Lady Mimi when the knight threw Kitty like a net of herring before a pair of thrones on an elevated platform. The ropes slithered away from their limbs and they struggled to their feet. Once upright, they cast their sight at the royal pair sitting ahead. The being that met their gaze was none other than...

"John!"

Yet another version of the shapeshifter sat on the larger and more grandiose of the two thrones, dressed in royal robes adorned with red hearts and green cats. His eyes glittered like a snake's from behind his spectacles as a large crown of blood red metal sat proudly on his head. With a wrinkled nose, he sneered at the human from on high.

"John? John? Insignificant knave! Who is this John you speak of? I am the Red King!"

In the second, more modest yet still opulent throne, sat a version of George garbed in dark green and black. His crown was simpler, and darker than midnight, with rubies inlaid all around it. This version of George cleared his throat after The Red King's declaration. The Red King turned to him and added to his pronouncement. "And this is my friend, the Crimson Prince. He's visiting from the Dusk Lands."

The Crimson Prince waved. "Hey."

Kitty waved back shyly.

The Red King waited until the two were properly acquainted before resuming his dramatic accusation. "And you are charged with spying in the king's woods!"

Kitty set their jaw. This is bollocks. Then they took a deep breath and prostrated themself before the king. "I beg for Your Highness' mercy! His kindness! His generosity for my folly!"

The Red King considered this. Then he shook his head. "Uh...no. No, I don't think so." He smiled wickedly. "No mercy, no kindness, no generosity! Throw them in the dungeon with that olive colored vexer of my vellum! Let the two rrrot for a week, then..." He pulled his thumb across his throat. "Off with their heads!"

Kitty stumbled back as though struck. John wouldn't! John couldn't!

Could he?

Kitty doubted they wanted to be around to find out. They turned on their heel and fled, yet did not travel far before Paul, dressed as a guard, stood in their way. However, providence smiled upon them then, for they suddenly felt the weight of a dagger on their person, and unsheathed the weapon just moments before they faced the siren. At best, they would intimidate him. At worst, they would stab him. Either way, they were leaving.

Then Mistress Fortune played a cruel joke. With comical swiftness, Kitty's dagger was launched from their hand by a masterful parry, and the longsword that committed the act was soon levied against Kitty's throat. Guard Paul held the same smoking glare the real Paul had while confronting the Pink Meanies, and Kitty considered it a miracle from the stars themselves that they were not killed on the spot for meeting it.

"Step. Back." Guard Paul growled, his voice deeper than Kitty ever heard it.

Kitty took a single step backward.

"Again."

They obeyed, body burning, chest tightening. What little power they had regained slipped through their fingers like sand.

"Again."

The tears came freely now. Helpless was only a feeling, but by the stars, was it crushing!

"That's a good puppy. Keep going."

Kitty backpedaled until all their progress had been erased and they stood before the king once more, this time with a sword's tip lightly pressed into their back.

The Red King looked down upon them, smug. "Make that three days. Take them away!"

The last thing Kitty saw before being roughly turned around were the sympathetic eyes of the Crimson Prince. 

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