Finding the hostages was far easier than Soral had expected, with one minor issue. There were far too many of them. Rather than trying to identify which specific ones were being used to blackmail Marx, Soral decided that the easiest course of action would be to rescue all of them.

  A few stray thoughts confirmed that these hostages were being used against all protectors, not just the ones for sale or facing a decisive battle. While that did explain why they didn't rebel, how did they prove the hostages weren't harmed? If Soral could figure that out he could break that proof once the hostages were safe. Well, he might need to talk to Ruena before he took any actions that drastic.

  Now there was another serious issue. How was he meant to protect them? They couldn't stay here. Leaving them anywhere in Florfana was probably a bad idea. Unfortunately the only places Soral could guarantee their safety were Qilin and Vista, Vista being the less certain option. In Qilin they could hide indefinitely in Mr. Mischief's Manor. The main problem with that was that Soral had carefully avoided running into his cousins just in case it caused something drastic. He couldn't be sure Mr. Mischief wouldn't be there when he transported them.

  The other option was to wait until night and have Mr. Mischief rescue them. Over the years their thoughts and personalities had become even more distinct. Could he even trust that he would follow through? Of course he could. This was what Ruena had asked of him. No matter which cousin it was, their loyalty to Ruena was unquestionable.

  Decision made, Soral spent the rest of the day scoping out all of the information he could. The location of the hostages, any potential hidden hostages, the level of guards. It was a good thing he did. Based on the thoughts he picked up, the hostages had hostages, and those hostages were being blackmailed with the other hostages. More digging revealed the most protected hostage of them all, isolated from the others. A child, and one who appeared to be related to Marx. This was probably the real hostage he was meant to rescue, but it would probably be easier to rescue them all just to be safe.

  Night fell as Soral finished scouting. It was time to leave things in Mr. Mischief's hands. He had faith his cousin would protect them well.

  ==========

  Niko glared at the door of his glorified cell. His older brother, Marx, would be out there fighting for his life soon and there was nothing he could do about it. Marx wouldn't even be able to surrender since Niko was being held hostage. Niko felt a bit sorry for his brother's opponent, but there was no way he would lose. Even if he did win, Niko would likely never see him again. The Warlord Territories were forbidden for a defective protector like him. What good were golden eyes without the strength that came with them?

  Everything was so quiet. It must be night. Niko couldn't afford to sleep, though. If the greedy leaders of Florfana discovered his secret it didn't matter if Marx won or not. He would never be able to leave this place. That was when Niko felt it. An odd sensation kind of like a pulse, followed by a push like being swept up by a large wave. He flinched, reflexively closing his eyes.

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  When he opened them he wasn't in the cell anymore. He wasn't alone either. Surrounding him were dozens of other Cats. All hostages, and all just as confused as he was. A man who was most certainly not a Cat stepped forward onto earth raised up like a stage. He wore a bright blue outfit, complete with cape and top hat. The look was finished by the glimmering masquerade mask and the towering palace made of gemstones behind him.

  "Congratulations! I have taken it upon myself to rescue you!" The man announced, "I am Mr. Mischief. Welcome to my manor."

  Mr. Mischief? The name sounded eerily familiar, but Niko was momentarily distracted by the fact that he had casually called the massive structure of gemstone behind him a manor. How was that anything but a palace? Was there something more impressive than a palace? If so, that might be a better term for it.

  “Is this Qilin?” one of the others timidly asked.

  Qilin? Realization slammed into Niko with a horrifying force. Mr. Mischief was the king of Qilin. Not only was Qilin a kingdom known for their not so secret network of assassins, Mr. Mischief himself was known to be an all powerful absolute madman. Why would someone like him have brought them here? Niko doubted that he actually intended to rescue them. With this realization came a chilling thought. Had Mr. Mischief found out his secret? If that was the case, he couldn’t let his guard down.

  “Send us back,” he demanded, glaring at the overly flashy man standing before them.

  Mr. Mischief’s smile faltered as his eyes met Niko’s. In a moment he was standing before him. It wasn’t like he ran over with incomprehensible speed. It was as if he had managed to move without moving at all. Niko wanted to move away, regardless of how futile such an action would be. No. He needed to stand his ground if he didn’t want to be in a worse situation than they had already been in.

  “I can’t do that,” Mr. Mischief told him, “My cousin asked me for this favor, so until the important battle is over, you cannot leave.”

  An important battle? This was about Marx? “What happens after the battle?” Niko asked, daring his nerves to hold out.

  A grin formed on Mr. Mischief’s face. “Who knows?”

  Just who was this cousin who could ask favors from the king of Qilin? Niko braced himself for the torture they were bound to face at his hands. First, he took them all to a large room with a long table. Was he going to feed them poison? Some kind of potion? Lock them all in one room for convenience?

  “Eat,” Mr. Mischief commanded, summoning a great feast, filling the empty table with hundreds of delicious looking dishes. When they hesitated, his gaze grew sharper. “Are you going to refuse my hospitality?”

  Now that their lives were in his hands, they had no choice but to obey his whims. Niko hesitantly picked up some kind of bread and took a bite. Was torture meant to be this delicious?