Mice the cat was on his way back to his master's home after a long night guarding their storeroom. His self-appointed job was to make sure his master's food stayed safe and well protected. No one had actually assigned him this task, but his humans wanted him to catch rats, and he decided guarding the food was a smarter way to do it. Simple economics, he thought. No supply, no demand. Plus, I get to eat what I want, and my masters stay happy.
Mice smiled as he remembered the night's events. The rats had been so shocked to find him waiting inside the storeroom. They froze while he casually closed off their escape route. He laughed, recalling their relief when he offered them a choice: be eaten, or serve him. Of course, they chose to serve. He required only three things:
1. Never steal from his masters again.
2. Answer his call whenever he summoned them—under his promise not to endanger their lives.
3. Report any valuable information to their assigned leader, who would relay it through a chain of leaders until the news reached him directly.
Information is a valuable thing for a clever cat, he thought with a grin. It makes life easier.
Turning a corner, he spotted a rat waiting attentively beneath the tree nearest his master's house.
"Hi, Spy Leader! How's your morning? How's the wife and kids?" Mice greeted.
"They're very fine, sir! Again, I can't thank you enough for finding us such a wonderful home. That great tree will feed us for seasons to come!" the rat replied, beaming.
"I'm pleased to hear that, Spy Leader," Mice said warmly. He was delighted that his small army of rats was thriving.
"Remember to tell your wife to create a circle of leaders to oversee the tree's food supply, sanitation, and security. Also, start a small school for your children to learn our trades. And make sure the beehives are well cared for so you'll have a steady supply of honey for Mr. Boo the Bear, who guards your tree. In fact, include all of this in your daily report, Spy Leader."
If the rat could have smiled any wider, his face would have split in two. "Yes, sir!" he said, carefully recording every directive on a blue glow-stone pebble. Then he handed Mice a green glow stone.
"Your daily report, sir! Oh, and a farm in a town southeast of us will have a huge tomato harvest soon. But the three towns nearest the dock will also harvest tomatoes, and their farms are even bigger. It's rumored the surplus will force them to sell at a lower price for bulk buyers. The details are in the report!"
"Excellent work, Spy Leader! Oh—before I forget, I left four slices of cheesecake on a bench outside the storeroom. Master Rosalie gave it to me last night. Share it with your community."
The rat nearly bounced with joy at the mention of cheesecake. He thanked Mice once more and hurried off to gather help in carrying the treat to their new home west of the farm.
Mice padded happily inside, ready for a well-earned nap.
---
Upstairs, Rosalie watched through her window as her cat spoke to a rat, using a spyglass to observe. She couldn't hear their words, but she saw the rat take out two glowing pebbles from a tiny bag—a bag!—and tap the blue one before handing the green one to Mice.
"Aha! Proof at last!" she whispered excitedly. "Mice is a creature of magic!"
She had suspected it for years. Whenever she tried to talk to Mice, however, his only reply was a simple meow.
Rosalie adored her cat. She had bought him five years ago, when she was thirteen, from a traveling peddler. She remembered the day vividly: a sleek black cat lay in a cage beside a small mouse. When she asked why there was a mouse inside, the peddler explained it was meant to be the cat's meal—and that he would give nothing else until the cat ate it. Poor Mice had stared at her with sad obsidian eyes, clearly starving. Rosalie had begged her father to buy him, and he had finally agreed—on the condition that she take full responsibility for the animal. She named the cat "Mice," charmed by the irony that he refused to eat mice and instead adored cheesecake.
A week later, Father assigned Mice the task of clearing the rats infesting their farm. Rosalie had once spied on him in the storeroom, curious to see how he would hunt. To her surprise, the rat lay down and played dead while Mice simply picked it up and carried it outside—only to release it unharmed. That was the beginning of her suspicion.
Over the years, mysterious books had begun to appear around the house: guides to potions, rare ingredients, economics, mathematics, history, maps of distant kingdoms, and even a tome on magical creatures and how to enlist their services. The last book revealed that Mice belonged to a high-level class of magical administrators who only bonded with their chosen partner upon adulthood—eighteen years for humans.
Rosalie beamed. Today is my eighteenth name-day! Everything was ready. If the bonding failed, she could still show Mice the book and the glow stone she had seen.
Before anyone else awoke, she raced downstairs to the fireplace, where Mice slept. She scooped him up with a delighted, "Nnggrreeaaww!" from the startled cat, twirling him through the air while singing her birthday song.
"And she turned eighteen today!" she finished triumphantly, lifting Mice high above her head.
The poor cat stared with wide, panicked eyes and a half-open mouth as if he might scream.
Rosalie lowered him, showering him with kisses. "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!" Mice struggled, still dizzy from the spinning and now smothered by affection. "Nnggreooww!"
Laughing, Rosalie dashed upstairs to her room, setting Mice on her desk.
"Now it's time to negotiate," she declared, pulling a thick parchment from a drawer and laying it before him.
"This contains the list of what I require from you. If you agree, sign here and here."
Mice looked at the summary on the first page and blurted, "Hey! What kind of agreement is this? I don't get anything from this!"
He froze, paws clapped over his mouth, horrified that he had spoken aloud.
Rosalie laughed in triumph.
"That's not fair!" Mice pouted. "I don't get anything from this contract!"
Rosalie smiled sweetly, scooping him into a tender hug.
"You get the best deal," she said softly. "You get to administrate."
Mice's eyes gleamed. He did indeed have a lot of plans.