Chapter 4: Chapter Three – Lynx Palace

The foyer of the palace was a wide, lavish space, its intricately decorated walls designed to remind those who entered that they were in a house of power. Mick felt the cold tiles on his paws, a refreshment after the hot stone, concrete and asphalt. Outside, he could see a large crowd had gathered around the estate's gates, presumably due to Cobra's presence. Speaking of Cobra, the tom hung up his cap on the hat rack beside the door. He walked to stand in front of Mick and gestured at the room around them. 

"This place was built about two and a half centuries ago by Lyncala's last monarchical dynasty. It was the prince's summer palace, which he gifted to his wife when they got married. She made a few adjustments upon moving in, as you might see later, but most of it is original. Aside from the windows, that is," he added with a chuckle. Turning in a small circle, Mick took a second to soak it all in. The crystal chandelier hanging over their heads was almost like a huge glittering star hovering in midair. The candleholders had been replaced with small lightbulbs long ago, but they gave the same effect.

"It's looking pretty good for its age," Mick quipped. Cobra again signaled for Mick and the guards to follow him. He led the group down a series of corridors, all decorated with an equal level of luxury. Mick suddenly became aware that Alaric was trailing him a short distance behind to his left, which on its own wouldn't have been alarming, but given the tom's already odd disposition he had his guard up. Judging by the tabby's expression the feeling was mutual.

Many turns and several staircases later, Cobra stopped in front of a large mahogany door. The wood around the knob was carved into the shape of a coiled serpent poised to strike, so that anyone with their paw near the door had to tease the snake's bite in order to open it. Cobra pivoted towards Mick.

"This will be your room for the stay. I personally picked it out," he mewed, stepping aside. "Go on, don't be shy. I'll get your guards settled in, then come back and check in on you." Mick glanced over his shoulder at Cobra, who nodded with a flash of a smile. Sighing, he placed his paw on the cold knob and walked inside. He heard the small group shuffle off once the door clicked behind him.

This room, like every other room in the palace, was spacious, almost too much so for one cat. Several large windows let streamers of sunlight fall into its interior, reflecting off the smooth hardwood and elaborate oriental rug. An old, neatly made four-poster sat at one end of the room, while a small fireplace took up the wall opposite it. Stacked on the mattress were a few familiar bags; apparently a separate convoy left the base shortly after Cobra's and dropped off Mick's luggage before he arrived. 

Mick placed his cover at the foot of the bed and crossed the room to stand next to the desk so that he was staring out the window. From his third-story roost he had a pleasant view of the surrounding city. Rows of townhouses, parks and other structures stretched as far as the eye could see, cut by the roads running between them. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth on his face. How nice it would have been to simply lay on that windowsill and fall asleep. 

But instead of taking a nap, Mick decided that it would be more beneficial for him to find his journal and pen. Though he would use the typewriter provided to him for reports later, he wanted to keep his less official observations about Lyncala in his personal writings. It didn't take much sifting through the bags for his paw to contact the familiar leather book. 

Grabbing the journal and his pen, Mick sat down at the desk, delicately opening the book to a fresh page. Just as he was about to begin writing, though, a knock came from the door. He's back already? That was fast.

Mick opened the door a crack, enough to meet Cobra's bright orange eyes. Alaric stood a short distance away, and upon seeing Mick slunk off around a corner. Ignoring this, Mick opened the door wider. 

"How are you liking it so far?" the spotted tom asked, his tail swishing back and forth. Mick gave a weak smile. 

"It's nice. Very roomy," he said without much thought. Cobra took a small step closer. 

"That's to be expected. It was the room of the last queen of Lyncala, Queen Cottonmouth III." He ran a paw over the carvings on the door. 

"That explains all the snake imagery," Mick noted. Cobra tapped a claw against the head of the wooden snake as if petting it and stepped back to his original position.

"It sure does. The serpent is Lyncala's heraldic symbol; to us it represents quick intelligence, raw power and the circle of life." Instead of the excitable old tom, Mick could see a fleeting look of quiet reverence in Cobra's eyes as he stared at the little wooden carving. In a moment the silent tribute was broken and he returned to his congenial self. "Anyways, enough of the history lessons. I have some folks I'd like you to meet."

At this point Mick simply knew to follow Cobra's lead, and so he did, not wanting to get lost in the winding labyrinth of the palace. Even with his alleged bad hip that the colonel had mentioned the day prior, Cobra was surprisingly quick when skirting corners and descending stairs. Instead of going back to the foyer, he led Mick to another room on the second floor, opening the doors to a huge dining hall. 

To Mick it was like something from a fairy tale. The arches of the ceiling seemed to reach impossibly high, and the crystal chandeliers hung low over where tables once were. The west wall was lined with glass doors leading out to a long balcony, so diners could watch the sunset as they ate. 

Near one of the doors stood a pair of cats: a surly-looking tabby tom, and a tortoiseshell she-cat with shockingly dark eyes. "Mick, this is Mr. O'Connor and Mrs. Geneva. Mr. O'Connor is the president of the Lyncala National Nuclear Company, and Mrs. Geneva is the head of the Nuclear Safety Board," Cobra said while guiding Mick towards the duo of strangers. The she-cat was the first to react.

"Hello, Mr. Higgins. I'm Sunny," she said in a smooth voice. She shook Mick's paw upon his approach.

"Hi," Mick replied, unsure what else to say. O'Connor copied Sunny's motions once she stepped away from Mick.

"You can just call me Marcus," he said, seeming oddly uncomfortable in the process. Cobra stood at the side of the group, his expression slowly shifting to a more serious one. 

"Now, I do not intend to begin our meetings today," he began. Great, more time I have to spend here. "-but I do want to introduce you to some members of my nuclear program as soon as possible. Since we'll be spending quite a bit of time together, I figured you should get to know them today."

"Uh, General-" Marcus said with a tilt of his head. "-I have a company meeting in an hour. Sunny needs to be there too. I don't remember setting aside the entire afternoon for a meet-and-greet. Not that I'm trying to avoid you," he added with a quick glance at Mick. Cobra's face scrunched up, one corner of his lip drawn back. 

"And it's absolutely necessary?" he growled dangerously. Sunny interjected before Marcus could dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Yes, sir. We're finalizing the plan that is to be presented to our visitors." Mick took a small step back, trying to weasel his way out of the conflict somehow. He didn't want to be involved.

Some moments of thinking later Cobra finally shook his head and sighed. "Fine. You will be available this evening, correct, O'Connor?" 

"Mhm," Marcus mumbled unceremoniously. Cobra sighed again, more drawn out than before.

"Okay. We'll make do with the time we have before it comes to business." He muttered something that definitely wasn't nice under his breath. "Go and do whatever you have to. Dinner is at five-thirty. Don't be late, please." Marcus opened his mouth to say something, but Cobra waved a paw dismissively. "Go before I change my mind." Not wanting to irritate the president any more, Marcus quickly excused himself. Sunny lingered for a moment longer, giving Cobra an apologetic look before trotting in Marcus's wake. 

Cobra audibly huffed once Sunny slipped out of the room. Mick felt a sudden, visceral perturbation. Despite the hospitality and general good nature he had displayed earlier, Mick didn't feel comfortable being left alone in a room with the tom. Where were his guards? Why hadn't Cobra told him where they were staying? Colonel, this is why you should have sent someone else. While Cobra was looking away, brooding, Mick edged away from him as slowly as he possibly could, until he felt there was enough distance between the two of them. 

"Eh, no use getting worked up over," Cobra muttered. He let his arms fall to his sides, and only now did Mick notice that his claws had previously been extended. Cobra shook his head, giving a more halfhearted smile. "Well, feel free to explore the palace for a while. Find a phone if you get lost, there's plenty, and dial my room so I can get you out." He dropped a small slip of paper into Mick's paw. "Dinner's at five-thirty, in here. I hope you like Perji food, because that's what the chef's making." 

Mick smiled. "My mom made it all the time when I was a kid. My family's from Perjit." Cobra raised his eyebrows.

"Well I'll be damned. Guess we really want you to feel at home," he chuckled. "Go on, now. I do have to speak with someone for the time being." He tipped his head towards the doorway, in which stood a calico she-cat. Another stranger. Mick gave a respectful nod and turned around, passing the stranger as she crossed the room. He nearly stopped when their gazes met. Those eyes. Something about them struck a note of startling dread in Mick's heartstrings. 

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Before he could freeze up, he forced himself to keep walking. Not everyone here was weird, right? There had to be some normalcy. Maybe she was a daughter or a niece of Cobra's. She was too young to be a sibling or a spouse. Maybe she was just an employee. Whatever the case, Mick wanted to forget that piercing stare. 

With difficulty, Mick eventually managed to find his room. He was thankful to hear the click of the door behind him and to be able to flop down on the mattress. This was already a long day, and dinner was still four hours away. Figuring Cobra (or one of his assistants) would retrieve him if he was needed, Mick decided it was time for a nap. He hadn't slept well the night before, and after a day like this he felt he deserved it. And so without much other thought, he curled up on the warm side of the bed, and promptly fell asleep.

♠♠♠

By some miracle Mick managed to wake up before five-thirty. Bleary-eyed, he sat up slowly and observed the room around him, and it took him a second to remember that he was in another country. It wasn't just some vivid dream. Groaning, he stood and stretched. He checked the clock. 5:02. That gave him plenty of time to get changed and get downstairs. 

Quickly he changed into something more appropriate for the evening: a white button-up, grey slacks and the wristwatch he wore as a family heirloom from his father. At the last minute he decided to stuff his emergency switchblade under his belt. He didn't think he'd need it, but after the discomfort of the afternoon he brought it just in case. 

Since being late was one of his biggest pet peeves, Mick set out of the room early, knowing he'd need a bit of extra time to navigate the jumbled halls of the palace. He did his best to retrace his earlier steps, able to just barely track his own scent from the day. Yeesh, Mick, ease up on the cologne, he thought. 

A sound crossed his ear that made him pause. A rhythmic tump-tump-tump of frantic paws against solid hardwood... who was running? As Mick rounded the corner, a brown-and-white tabby nearly barreled into him at top speed. The tom shrieked involuntarily and slammed on the invisible brakes, severely misjudging the distance between Mick and himself. While Mick instinctively hopped out of the way, the tabby fell to the ground and slid across the floor, finally coming to a stop with a loud thump against the wall. 

"Damn, are you okay?" Mick exclaimed, approaching the dazed stranger. The tom shook the stars out of his eyes and stood, his tail bent awkwardly. 

"I think so. Feel like I broke my ass bone though," he winced. He rubbed his head, his green eyes not fixed on any one thing. His attire was simple: a pale blue button-down with dark grey pants. And yet despite it looking relatively nice, Mick couldn't get his mind around the fact that the tabby felt severely out of place.

"Who exactly are you? I haven't seen you around yet," Mick asked out of curiosity. The tom straightened a kinked whisker and answered.

"I'm Chip." He tilted his head while looking at Mick with a raised eyebrow. Hairless cats were not all that common in this country or those around it, thanks to the heat waves during the summer causing them to easily sunburn, so Mick didn't blame him for wondering what such a peculiar stranger was doing in his country. "Who are you?"

"Mick," he replied, unsure how this was going to go. Chip's eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh, shit. You're the ambassador? I'm so sorry, I'm so screwed-" he said with a sudden panic. Mick raised his paws, trying to calm Chip down.

"Hey, hey, chill out. This stays between you and me. You didn't do anything on purpose," he explained quickly. Chip seemed a bit shocked.

"Well that's a surprise. Any government official I've run into has been a complete asshole." Now it was Mick's turn to raise a brow.

"Even Cobra?" Even though Cobra seemed to be able to get irritable, he didn't strike Mick as a complete jerk. Chip gave a hollow laugh.

"Especially Cobra. Don't let him fool you," he said with a sneer. "Let me give you some advice; when it comes to Lyncala's government, the cats you think are your friends are the ones you should trust the least."

"So are you part of the government?" Mick questioned further. Chip shook his head.

"Hell no. I mean, I don't have any power. I'm with the National Nuclear Company, but I'm just one of the grunts they send into the exclusion zone to clean the place up." He scratched at one of his ears.

"Then why are you here?" Mick blurted before he could stop himself. Chip wrinkled his nose for a second, then relaxed.

"They just brought me here as an example of how well the reconstruction program is going or whatever. I don't blame you for thinking I don't belong," he added with an almost passive-aggressive tone. Mick folded his ears back.

"Sorry," he mewed, embarrassed. Chip dipped his head, then looked at Mick again.

"No worries. I get that all the time. Just... maybe be a little more conscious of it next time. I'm just glad you actually care enough to apologize," he said, cracking a weak grin. "Anyways, I heard you have to be at the dining hall in about ten minutes. If you want to talk more later, just phone my room. I could probably tell you a thing or two about what to expect." He told Mick the number and grinned. "Catch you later." 

Before Mick could say anything else, Chip was off running again. He smiled. The tabby may have been rather rough around the edges, but Mick got the distinct sensation that he was doing his best to be genuine. At the same time, though, he had to be on his guard. Like Chip said, it would be difficult to trust people here.

Brushing this aside for now, Mick walked down the stairs and to the dining hall. The sun was beginning to set outside, and a large table had been set up by one of the glass doors, which happened to be open enough to let in a slight breeze. Several cats whom Mick could not recognize were milling about the room, with Cobra himself standing on the balcony overlooking the city. Unsure what to do, Mick stepped outside as well, trying to move my Cobra unnoticed.

Cobra, however, must have heard him, because he turned around the moment Mick stepped outside. "Well you're down early," he said enthusiastically.

"Mhm. I don't like being late. It's bad luck," Mick stated. He leaned against the railing, watching the sky as it turned vivid shades of orange, red and yellow. 

"That'll make things nice and concise, then. Last time we had foreigners at the palace was when we invited the dogs from up north to talk about commerce. They were never on time," Cobra reminisced. "Anyways, we should get situated, no?" 

"Sure?" Mick said, not sure how to respond to what clearly wasn't a question. Cobra gently led him inside. 

When Mick looked across the room, she was there again. The calico from earlier stood alone in the corner, glaring at him. Something about her screamed dangerous. And yet Mick knew he needed to talk to her. She knew something he needed to know. 

Mick didn't have time to question it though, because she disappeared through a nearby door like a ghost, leaving him to mull over his thoughts alone.

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