No, she isn’t a cosplayer, I shouldn’t think in that manner. Nyota is a felinid, a person, not a human being, but close enough. Memories of the Baron attending social vivisections played before Liam’s eyes —despite his familiarity with human anatomy— the concept sickened him, twisting his stomach into knots. For reasons unbeknownst to him, felinids were not treated well in this world, they were largely enslaved and often culled by royal decree. A practice that even a degenerate like Baron Green frowned upon, refusing to participate. It helped that he owned no felinids. Since chattel was a capital intensive industry, food and housing had to be provided, as well as medical treatment, and breeding populations maintained. Expenses that Greenwood barony could not afford.

  It took longer than he could have imagined to get out of bed, predominantly due to his body being too sore to put his own boots on. The lightning had done a thorough job of frying his nerves. Breen had not been a graceful man before the incident, but now he was well and truly crippled, entirely dependent on the gray haired maid. Arlet scowled when the other felinid maids tried to help, though they edged closer until Nyota waved them away. She appeared younger than the other women, but they obeyed her instantly. As if she were some maid-cat-princess. The thought brought a smile, then a shudder. Liam bit his tongue, realizing she had most likely fed and bathed him, just as he had fed and bathed coma patients. Oh… That’s so embarrassing.

  Her thin gray tail flicked in subtle annoyance as she struggled with his boots, fighting against his jittery legs. Liam could do nothing more than watch as the maid dressed him. Bandages still covered most of his body, restricting his movement, not that his muscles would obey his commands.

  What little skin he managed to see was covered in Lichtenberg figures, fans of angry red ferns that appeared to be tattooed across his body. He recognized them from his college case study on electrical burns, if an electrical source of sufficient voltage and amperage came into contact with skin they would burn through the flesh following the path of least resistance. Some artists recreated the effect in wood, a dazzling and humane way of displaying the effect.

  “There you are m’lord. I’ll go and fetch your carriage-“ Nyota said, finishing with Liam’s boots and standing up.

  “Stop right there Nyota.” Captain Arlet snapped.

  “But the carriage...” Began the gray haired catgirl, her voice trailing off as she saw the look in the captain’s eyes. Arlet would not be fooled.

  “Don’t bother, you will not be able to alert your lord. Viscount Blackwood grew tired of waiting for Green to recover and left to purchase more slaves in the capital. I recall him shouting about whipping one to death for each day Green remained unconscious.” Said Arlet.

  His starchy smile faded into a grimace as he spoke, the thin veneer of civility he maintained falling away as his contempt shone through. Arlet’s satisfaction came from protecting Baron Green, a sentiment Liam appreciated deeply. Though he could not understand why. Nyota frowned, ears flicking in odd directions as he spoke, like a half cornered cat, debating if she should flee or fight. The maids behind her tensed, as if ready to tackle Arlet.

  “I pray for his safe return.” She said. Her eyes glistening with insincerity.

  “His last orders to you were that you made sure no harm came to Baron Green, no matter where he might go.” Said Arlet.

  Nyota blanched at the realization of what trickery Arlet intended.

  “Please m’lord. Do not drag me into your affairs. I treated your wounds. I beg of you, have mercy!” She cried.

  Nyota fell to her knees. Hanging her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. An endless cacophony of excuses sprayed from her lips. She had served the Viscount faithfully for years, but this assignment was different, a clear slip of words, taken too literally. Liam knew of Blackwood’s temper, as well as his disregard for his slaves’ well being.

  Arlet straightened, gesturing a naked dagger at the two maids. He'd drawn the blade so swiftly Liam hadn't noticed. His grumbled words steamrolled the maid's interjections.

  "Silence. Nyota, I know what you are, I am giving you a single chance to save their lives. They must never speak of this."

  She swallowed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nyota had heard stories of Green’s appetites, and the thought of being trapped in his personal service made her skin crawl. Viscount Blackwood was a jealous man, no less flawed than Green. If Nyota assisted their escape then there was no telling what the Viscount might do, though she guessed it would involve a lashing. If she were fortunate.

  She retreated a pace, wrapping the two maids in an embrace and wispurring into their ears.

  "Kira, Yoko, I'll be fine. Leave, do not speak a word of this to anyone until the masters already know. Captain Arlet mispoke, he intends to honour Lord Blackwood's commands to the letter. Please, look after the other girls." She leaned in and kissed their cheeks, whispering more softly, "keep Lyra safe."

  Both slaves winced, ears flattening at the order. Eyes pinching into slits as they left the room, abandoning their head. A tingle of something tickled Liam's nose, not quite pollen, and not a sneeze. A memory suggested this was the aetheric force Baron Green's tutors had failed to teach him, magic. The door latched shut like an inmate's cuffs.

  “Get your arse moving slave!” Growled Arlet, tone menacing her like a drawn blade.

  It spoke volumes, die here or die later, tortured and starved to satisfy Blackwood’s hatred. At least Arlet would be swift, he was a professional killer, master of all steels. Nor would he risk being discovered. Her eyes darted to the sword buckled around his waist, and to the dagger in his hand. But Nyota could never willingly ask for death. It wasn't within her nature to give up, else she would have long since perished as an unknown slave. Indecision crept into defiance of Arlet’s command, activating the enslavement collar around Nyota’s neck, constricting as the maid took too long to obey. She grit teeth as it cut off air, mechanically squeezing her throat shut. Desperation forced her claws under the collar, pulling it away from her neck with all her strength.

  Fighting for her very life.

  “Please! He will kill me. Mercy lord. Please have mercy on me.” She begged. Tears flowing freely down her cheeks, ears pressed flat against her head.

  “Enough.” Ordered Liam, praying Arlet would obey. “I will- ahem. Shoulder the blame. Arlet, do not allow harm to befall her. Nyota, I am sorry but you must come with us.” He said, leaning on the captain for support.

  Slaves and catgirls. Gross. I want no part of this. Got to get somewhere safe, then I can get my bearings.

  Arlet touched the collar, muttering under his breath. Whatever he said relaxed the constriction. Allowing Nyota to gasp for air, inhaling the life giving substance with zeal. She offered no more complaints, slipping Liam’s arm over her shoulder with a level of obedience that made Liam’s heart bleed. Here she was, following his orders when he had almost killed her, it was wrong. One ear flicked against his cheek, delicately slapping a smile across his lips. Okay, catgirls were strange, but not unforgivable. Not really all that different from elves.

  She hoisted him through the room, still wheezing. Making his dependance on her even more bitter. Liam clung to her like a helpless toddler, feebly dependent on the woman for simple locomotion. Her thin shoulders felt odd to him, strangely wrong. Nothing like Sarah’s felt when he wrapped his arms around her. Nyota was wider and sturdier -disproportionately so- as if her ribcage were constructed differently. The studious part of Liam’s mind considered that felinids might have less in common with humans than he originally thought. Though the origin of the difference was beyond him, convergent evolution was a well documented phenomenom, but the chances of two humanoid races so similar to each other pointed more towards a common ancestor.

  Four years working in an anatomy laboratory had left him with an extensive understanding of how the human body worked. The shape of human bones was familiar to him, a topic that was as fascinating as it was morbid. Something he approached with a professional bent, after all, medical school was the path to becoming a surgeon, understanding every bone, structure, and organ was a necessary part of becoming a competent surgeon. One who caused minimal damage with each incision. Despite his education, Nyota’s ears defied his understanding, flicking up and down, twisting left and right, able to rotate one hundred and eighty degrees. They were absolutely marvelous, piquing his interest in how they functioned, which muscles moved them, and how the felinid skull must be constructed differently than a human’s to accommodate the increased auditory dexterity.

  “You are staring m’lord.” Said Nyota, fear evident in her flat tone and quivering lips.

  “Oh, uh sorry. I got lost in thought.” Answered Liam quickly, looking forward instead of at the maid.

  What are you doing Liam? Focus on getting home to Sarah! Nyota's gorgeous, and probably cuddles like a tiger but I'm a taken man.

  Passing through the castle’s interior, he was transported to a bygone era of splendor. This was not a mcmansion, but a true castle, nothing in America compared to the stone floors, stone walls, and probably stone toilets within this fortress. The main courtyard was a bustling hub of activity, blacksmiths and artisans plied their trades, knights in shining armor marched in formation, and servants scurried about their daily tasks. Liam swallowed at the sheer number of knights drilling. Though his memory corrected him, these were not landed knights, but men at arms. Skilled warriors and mercenaries who came with armor but no horse. Chivalry was not part of their creed, they were not nobility. A distinction more important than life to Baron Green.

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  Ah, who cares about your parents? It's what you make of your own life that matters! Thought Liam, shuffling through the halls.

  Viscount Blackwood was liege lord of several surrounding fiefs, and was required by the Kingdom to maintain order over them, meaning he always had a standing army in addition to his landed knights. But there were at least a hundred men in armor, far too many for regular operations. A man-at-arms cost double what a cavalier did, and nearly ten times as much as a conscript. Thus Liam knew this army had a purpose, violent intentions aimed…

  At me? Greenwood is a backwater, he wouldn’t need half the number of knights to overrun us, and men at arms wouldn’t be the correct choice anyways. Greenwood still had three fortified towns, starvation through a siege would be the correct tactic. Combat by attrition rather than open battles, or so Arlet had told Baron Green. Viscount Blackwood, why do you have an army?

  The keep, heart of the castle, rose in the center, its thick stone walls and narrow windows hinting at sieges it had endured. While the great hall, resplendent with tapestries depicting heroic legends and battles, often stained by feasts to satisfy Blackwood’s lust. Or the vices of his son Oliver.

  Each room brought a torrent of memories with it, punching into Liam’s consciousness like a right hook from Mike Tyson. Painful memories from Baron Green’s upbringing came to mind, when he had been a guest of the Viscounty; a glorified term for political hostage. Pain rising in his heart pushed the memories away, rejecting Baron Green’s childhood. Rather than giving in, Liam closed his eyes, wishing the world around him would disappear from existence. Too much information assaulted his brain, he needed time to recuperate, to process this new life. He reeled from the bombardment, Everything was being thrown at him too quickly, overwhelming his senses. Sight blurred with taste, until he could taste lightning, confounding reason. Everything the man knew or experienced for his entire life was simply available to Liam. As if the two of them had always shared a body.

  “I wish I could crawl into a dark hole and die.” Liam said.

  “Lord! Don’t even think like that!” Said Nyota, her mouth aghast.

  Liam frowned, surprised how quickly she recovered from having her life threatened.

  “Sorry, can we walk a bit slower? Or, how much further?” Liam asked, leaning his head on Nyota’s shoulder. After all, her dress was infinitely softer than Arlet’s armor.

  “M’lord, I beg your forgiveness for the walk. I had to park the carriage at the Northern gate." Began Arlet, glancing around them before leaning closer. "Viscount Blackwood only posts one guard at that gate. We should be able to slip past him with ease.” Arlet’s voice grew quiet as he spoke.

  “A prudent plan, Arlet. You should be praised, not forgiven.” Answered Liam. Trying to mimic the baron’s speech patterns.

  Arlet gave him a puzzled glance, telling him that his attempt at mimicry had failed, miserably. Though he would never guess the failure was in the contents of his message, and not in the delivery. Nyota misunderstood the glance.

  “Masters, we could call for a healer if you are in pain.” Offered Nyota.

  “No, risking our safety as well as your own is unacceptable. I shall endure.” Answered Liam.

  If healing magic existed, what good were surgeons? With a troubled mind, they moved deeper into the castle, traversing narrow stone corridors that led past dimly lit chambers, some adorned with ornate furnishings and plush tapestries. Whilst others held more functional, albeit spartan accommodations for the castle’s residents. Savory walnut smoke rose from hearths, wafting through the air, and the flickering light of torches danced across masonry, casting long, wavering shadows.

  The castle’s interior was a blend of stark practicality and medieval opulence, a living testament to a time when power and prestige were built on stone foundations and the legacy of noble lords and ladies.

  Still, they continued, Liam slowed their pace, as did the side corridors they took to avoid guards or maids, pausing where they could to allow Baron Green breaks to calm his episodic spasms. Turns out lightning causes extreme nerve damage. If Liam ever recovered fully, he would most likely need crutches. Or a fancy cane. Throughout their stroll memories continued to flood his mind, crippling his already broken body, somehow eliciting pity from Baron Green’s intelligence. With his brain’s permission the memories began to fade, internalized by their collective subconscious. Once the dreams of his shadow self had settled in, Liam felt the peace of clarity. Without his own thoughts screaming for focus through the deluge of Green's whoring.

  Eventually the trio wound their way to the Northern gate, approaching their final hurdle between a Viscount’s wrath and freedom, assuming no monsters were waiting for them on the road ahead. The gate looked scarcely tall enough for a carriage to pass through, yet Liam knew they would have a chance beyond the gate. True to Arlet’s plan there was only one guard posted at the gate.

  “Nyota, do you know that guard?” Liam asked, already cooking up a deception.

  “Ah, uhm. Yes M’lord. He fancies the maids like me.” She answered, her ears flicking backwards at a forty five degree angle.

  Fancies the other girls like me. Weird. I guess he is a fan of cat girls… Is that… a thing here? Is crossbreeding possible— Baron Green’s memories asserted themselves, assuring Liam that felinids and humans could not produce progeny despite otherwise physical compatibility. In short, the key fit, but did not turn the lock.

  Although, the way she moves her ears concerns me. My old cat, Midnight, only did that when they were about to fight each other. But Lance is a dude, and well, an actual cat, Nyota… Isn’t either of those. Hmm she didn’t say he fancied her specifically. Oh crap here he comes.

  Having noticed the trio approaching the lone guard burst into a jog, aiming to intercept them before they could reach the carriage.

  “Lets try and talk our way through this.” Liam said.

  “Oi, where are you lot off to?” Asked the guard, reaching the carriage a few steps ahead of them, and planting his halberd in the courtyard’s dirt.

  Plate armor covered the man's chainmail, a full suit of heavy armor that left only his face exposed. Small nics and dents suggested the armor was well used, or had belonged to another man before this guard had slain him and taken it for himself.

  “I’m off to get some fresh air, I've been confined to my bed for a week. It is well past time for me to get some exercise and I figured a brief jaunt would ease my recovery.” Said Liam, failing to use the native dialect.

  He was a Lord! Nobles ignored guards, not chit chat with them. Immediately the guard's demeanor changed, a thin sneer crossing his face.

  “Is that so? Aint you Baron Green? You would have to be. Lord Blackwood left specific instructions that you were not allowed to pass without his permission.”

  As he spoke the guard planted his feet. Chainmail armor clinking as he lowered his halberd, holding it at the ready. Not yet aiming it at anyone specifically, but ready to drop the tip the last few inches and thrust it through Liam’s throat at a moment’s notice. Captain Arlet’s hand wandered towards the hilt of his blade, a motion that did not go unnoticed by the guard.

  Stepping forward, Liam placed himself directly between the guard and his captain.

  “There is no need for violence here gentle- Ack!”

  His words were interrupted by the guard’s fingers digging into his throat, dragging him to the side so Liam stood between him and Arlet. Without a blade the guard improvised, gripping his halberd like a knife so he could press it against Liam’s neck.

  “Stand back or I cut his throat! Nyota go, fetch the good captain.”

  “pwwwuueeezzzz-“ Gasped liam.

  “That’s enough outta you! Think you could get away with diddling Lady Blackwood did you? I hear the lord has something special cooked up for you. I bet he is going to cut off your cock and---“

  Liam’s head spun. This level of violence was entirely alien to his college life. Slavery existed here, everything in this world sucked. He was old, crippled by lightning, and to top it all off he was a prisoner in a pervert’s body.

  Nothing was going how it should. He needed to escape, needed to go home. Needed to see Sarah again. He had survived two lightning strikes, paying for another man’s sins was not how he intended to die. He would not allow it.

  Memories of the lightning rose in his mind. The excruciating pain, as if every nerve is set ablaze, and the uncanny tingling sensation that accompanied it, like pins and needles dialed up from 1 to 'Wrath of Zeus’. A shudder ran through his body, a recollection of how his muscles had been locked into paralysis as the power of god flowed through him.

  “Achk!”

  Two lines of text appeared in his mind. Almost as if he was reading them despite nothing obscuring his vision. A voice other than his own —baritone and masculine— narrated them, speaking directly into his brain.

  [Mana manipulation] increased to level 2

  [Lightning] increased to level 11

  All he could think was, How did Robert the manager talk to my brain?

  The scent of burning flesh wafted through the air. Liam coughed, surprised at the guard’s unexpected change of heart. That was until metal clattered against stone, signaling the guard’s collapse. Unsteadied by the withdrawal of support, Liam’s decrepit form followed him shortly, plopping onto the stone beside a dead man.

  “M’lord! Are you alright?” Exclaimed Arlet, rushing to his side.

  “I am still alive. What was that? My mind wandered for a second and... “

  What was that notification? Maybe Arlet knows… No. Green’s memories don’t tell me anything about levels or notifications, it seemed like I leveled up in Skyrim, but level eleven? What happened to the first ten levels?

  “Dead. You killed him with a touch!” Whispered Arlet.

  “Captain, look at his face, tis heaven’s wrath.” Whispered Nyota, vertical pupils narrowing.

  Liam turned to see the man’s face, and winced. Lichtenberg marks covered his skin, denser and darker than the ones sprawling across Liam’s body. A clear sign the man had been exposed to a greater electrical source than the one he had experienced. More intense than a lightning strike? No, it has been four days, my burns have had time to heal.

  “Heaven’s wrath? They are electrical burns. When enough voltage flows through the body it encounters resistance which impedes it’s flow-“ Liam’s voice trailed off.

  Arlet offered a hand, expecting the maid to emulate his actions. Instead Nyota’s pupils were tiny slits, fully contracted in fascination of Liam, like a lion the second before it pounced. Arlet noticed her obsession and decided to break the spell.

  “Yes, m’lord it is as you say.” Said Arlet, going along with Liam’s outburst.

  You're a good man Arlet. Green doesn’t deserve your loyalty. Thought Liam.

  “Ahem, let us be away, one of Blackwood’s men is dead. If we did not have cause to fear before, we do now. We must leave!” Urged Arlet, tone quickening as he spoke.

  “A Lord of Lightning.” Whispered Nyota. Looking at Liam with wide eyes and tall ears.

  “Cat! Behave yourself! Do not trouble my lord with your tall tails.” Snarled Arlet, yanking open the carriage door.

  Liam had a second to wonder if the knight had just attempted a pun, but shook it off, knowing death was only a Blackwood away. Jokes could come later. Nyota sprang into the carriage first, a new demeanor writ large on her face. She eagerly assisted Liam into its cramped quarters, brushing away sacks of food for him. Aside from the food were several weapons, spears, bows, swords, and several shields. An impressive assortment that made Liam wonder who was going to wield them. At least he wondered until a bag filled with something hard and lumpy dropped into his lap, giving Liam a strange kinship to long forgotten bags of prison onions he used to peel.

  Arlet shot a look of distrust at Nyota, but said nothing as she fawned over Liam, arranging the sacks of food to make him more comfortable. She even managed to find a pillow in the piles of supplies. A feat that shocked Liam more than lightning. Moments later the carriage disappeared through an unguarded gate, escaping Blackwood Castle with its noble cargo.