The master spy or Puss in the boot adventures

The master spy, Part 7( end of book one The 5 th musketeers)

1.

Mer-Mer's heart raced as the King ordered him to carry out increasingly dangerous tasks, each one pushing him closer to the edge of ruin.

One moonless night, the King summoned Mer-Mer to his private chambers, a room draped in shadow and secrets. The monarch's eyes glinted with cruel amusement as he handed Mer-Mer a small, ornate box.

"Inside, you will find a rare and deadly poison," the King purred, his voice smooth as silk. "I want you to slip it into Cardinal Richelieu's wine at tomorrow's feast. Let him taste the bitter fruits of his own ambition."

Mer-Mer's paws trembled as he accepted the box, the weight of his grim task settling heavily upon his shoulders. To murder a man of God, even one as corrupt as Richelieu... it was a sin that would surely damn his soul. But what choice did he have? To refuse the King was to invite certain death.

The feast was a grand affair, the great hall filled with music, laughter, and the clink of goblets. Mer-Mer moved among the guests like a ghost, his Musketeer's cloak concealing the vial of poison tucked in his belt. He watched as the Cardinal held court at the head table, his red robes resplendent in the candlelight, his laughter booming and insincere.

With shaking paws, Mer-Mer uncorked the vial and tipped its contents into the Cardinal's wine glass, the liquid within turning a sickly green for just a moment before returning to its usual rich burgundy. His task complete, Mer-Mer melted back into the shadows, his heart pounding in his ears.

But the Cardinal did not die that night. As Mer-Mer would later learn, Richelieu had long ago taken to sipping an antidote with his meals, ever-paranoid of assassination attempts. The King flew into a rage upon discovering his plot had failed, his eyes wild and his claws unsheathed as he lunged at Mer-Mer in a fit of fury.

"You bumbling fool!" he roared, raking his claws across Mer-Mer's face, leaving deep, bloody gouges. "I should have your head for this incompetence!"

Mer-Mer cowered, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Your Majesty," he begged. "Have mercy. I am but your humble servant, eager to prove my loyalty."

A cruel smile twisted the King's muzzle as a new idea took hold. "Very well," he hissed. "You wish to prove yourself? Then rid me of that meddlesome Musketeer, D'artagnan. He has been asking too many questions of late, poking his whiskers where they don't belong. Make it look like an accident."

I faced two nearly unachievable missions. The first was to eliminate the Duke with black scorpion poison , and the second was to eliminate D'artanian... which meant myself, as I was acting as D'artanian. The simpler task was to somehow take D'artanian out of the game.

...

2.

Mer-Mer's heart pounded as he slunk through the shadows of the palace, his mind racing with the King's sinister orders. To eliminate D'artagnan, his own alter ego, the heroic Musketeer persona he had so carefully crafted... it was a task that threatened to unravel the very fabric of his identity.

As he prowled the moonlit corridors, Mer-Mer's sharp ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. He melted into a darkened alcove, his paw instinctively reaching for the hilt of his rapier. The footsteps grew louder, echoing off the stone walls, until a familiar figure emerged from the gloom - D'artagnan himself, resplendent in his Musketeer's uniform, his blue cloak billowing behind him.

Mer-Mer's breath caught in his throat. How could this be? He was D'artagnan, and yet here stood his doppelganger, a perfect mirror image down to the last whisker. The Musketeer's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Mer-Mer lurking in the shadows.