This story features magical coercion and some questionable initial consent, so heads up if you're not into that kinda jam.
Also, the ending may "Sound" like a bad end, but it's more of a temp job. Protag does a few months before returning to his old life, with a bunch of lewd memories to jerk off to. It's merely "IMPLIED" that he stays a slutty maid forever. Don't worry!
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Niles was hungry. Anyone who knew him could tell by the way his tail flittered back and forth behind him like an impatient suitor. But he wasn't in need of food; he ate well most nights on the dime of the rich merchants he 'bumped' into in the markets. He didn't yearn for pleasures of the flesh either; he had no trouble finding partners who found his fluffy ears and confident demeanor attractive. No, his hunger was for something deeper. He had a powerful, abiding craving for a new score. A new challenge. A new way to prove his worth as the greatest thief in the city! He'd had already taken silks out of the Prince of Chrysoprase's own bedchambers, he'd pried gems from the Astral Mural in the Temple of Syrinx, but there was one bragging right he'd never managed to nab:
An item from the Tower of the Witch.
On this side of the Jewelled Sea, the many rival city-states that controlled the trade often employed the services of powerful magic users, lured by the coin of their wealthy princes. One city may see the rise of a rival and want to strand their trade fleet with a harrowing tempest, or ravish their crops with swarms of locusts. This threat mandates a standing watch of an opposing magical user to safeguard the city from magical malefactors who would threaten its prosperity. Chrysoprase was no different, and its defender lived in a spectacular tower in the Highlands. There, in the city's redoubt for the wealthy to congregate and leer down at their lessers, would be his next score.
Getting into that part of the city was a matter of confidence, not guile. The closest thing to a constabulary Chrysoprase had were the Gemwatch: a kind of professional militia that did the bidding of the Prince and whatever other lackeys curried favour. Their predominant role was to keeping the riffraff out of the Highlands, both to keep their patrons 'safe' but also so that the well-to-do wouldn't have to rub shoulders with the plebes they ruled over.
Niles had a cape, doublet, trousers, and scarf for such an occasion. Though worn at the edges, he could pass for a well-travelled merchant with enough swagger in his step. The satchel slung over his shoulder had seen better days, but Niles had nicked a bundle of fragrant spices from a merchant vessel lying low in the docks and stuffed them at the top of the bag. A princely sum, all things considered, for such a simple ruse. A bit like a set of golden lockpicks to get into a box of haberdashery. But he could easily sell the spices on his way out of the district. Perhaps even to the person they were headed for in the first place.
"You going somewhere, catboy?" one of the guards asked with a sneer. He glared down at Niles from his opalescent helm, his polearm's butt lifting from its well-worn rest in the cobbles.
"Out of my way," Niles shot back with a flip of his hand. He forced his accent from the clipped vowels of the street to the rolled r's of the Western Reaches. "I am late for a pressing appointment. The Maroni family is having a banquet and they simply must have this jamoron before it withers!"
The guard scanned him up and down like a nearsighted Beholder. Then, just as the first bead of sweat was about to trail down Niles' neck, the Gemwatch goon sniffed the air. Sharp, pungent aroma made him wrinkle his nose. He stepped to the side, allowing Niles access to the stairs leading into the rich part of town.
He got away with it. A casual deception, but enough to give him a spike of euphoria. His fluffy ears twitched, his performance of an annoyed patrician blossomed into a wide grin. There was a twinge of the good boy he once was, recoiling at disobeying authority. But getting one over on someone in power was a vice, and Niles was a hopeless addict.
He prowled the highly trafficked areas of the district, hoping to hide himself in the crowd. Thanks to his diminutive height, this was easy. And he was by far not the only felician; trade had made the city rich, so its streets were a cosmopolitan blend of peoples in sailing distance. This was an easy place for cutpurse work if he needed a few silvers, but his lofty ambitions kept his frisky fingers in check.
Before he could start, however, he needed two things: the dark of night, and some space to equip himself. A small home off the market street belonged to a merchant who, one of his informants had whispered, was 'indisposed' with a pair of admirers for the night. They wouldn't be back until well after dawn, giving Niles plenty of opportunity to avail himself of the solitude and quiet offered by the home's walled garden. He set the satchel down amongst the blossoming flowers, carefully set the spices aside, and started yanking out tools, dark clothes, and vials of mysterious coloured fluids...
***
Darkness fell in just over an hour. He waited two just to be safe, his eyes seeing well into the dark thanks to his predatory heritage. Otherwise he might be lost amongst the winding streets, with the only illumination on the streets being oil lamps in windows and the occasional passing torch of a soldier of the Gemwatch.
The tower was easy enough to find. Aside from the Prince's keep, it was the tallest thing in the city. A sheer alabaster tower stabbing into the sky, coming to a conical roof to drive the blade allusion home. No windows until the very top, where a violet glow shone bright in the darkness. A daunting prospect, just the right thing to sate his need to prove that he really was the very best.
Finally at the base of the tower, Niles withdrew a single vial of purple liquid from a pocket in his soot-stained cowled tunic. He downed it in one gulp, wincing at the abhorrent taste. Spider's Grace had bits of its namesake in a mana-conducting suspension. Though it wouldn't be making its debut as a flavour enhancer any time soon, Niles could feel the spell burn itself into his body in mere moments. He tested the wall with a bare hand. The tips of his fingers clung to the surface, yet pulled easily when he willed his hand to move away. After a few assurances that it could hold his weight, he wrapped the rope from his pack around his shoulder and began the ascent.
Speed was of the essence, and he scrambled up the wall as fast as he could. Though he was sure his alchemical preparation would hold him if prepared correctly, the purity of ingredients was always a risk one had to factor in. Especially if your life was dependent on the magic continuing to work with consistent effect. Too strong and he'd be stuck on the wall until the spell failed. Too weak and he'd slip and put real test to the old adage about cats and their nine lives. At this point in his thieving career, he was pretty sure he was down to his last few.
Halfway up the tower and his limbs ached. Holding up one's weight was just one of the many things you got used to as a second-story man, but the climb's length seemed almost unnatural. He'd focus on his efforts for several minutes, look up, and see that he had scarcely moved. A pit formed in his stomach. Some kind of magic, he reasoned, though his muscles sang like he had been climbing the whole time, not just made to believe he had. He pressed on, however, undeterred by any tricks the witch might bring to bear.
Finally, blissfully, he reached the sill from which the glowing light emitted. With a last burst of effort, he hauled himself up to a sitting position on the ledge and let out a breath. Longest climb of his life by far, but he had made it. Thankfully, the potion had held out. It wouldn't be long before its effects would flicker and fade, leaving him to seek a more mundane way to get down.
The glass he leaned up against seemed mundane, though the eerie purple glow made seeing through to the other side impossible. He spent a good five minutes with an ear pressed to the glass. If there was someone on the other end, they would have made a noise that he could detect. A footstep, the scrape of a pen on parchment, even a heartbeat if the person was big enough. Sufficiently assured that the other side of the window held no immediate threat, he extended the claw on his index finger. As part of his plan, he'd carefully sharpened it to an almost vorpal point. After making sure it hadn't chipped in the journey up the tower, he pressed it to the glass until it bit in, then traced a long, oval shape in the glass. The discordant squeal of slicing glass made his sensitive ears flatten in distress. He winced, keeping his focus to make sure the cutting didn't stray.
The cut reached the entry point again. The moment of truth. He tried his fingers to see if they still held a little bit of the Spider's Grace. His fingertips latched onto the glass with just enough force to let him slide, ever so carefully, the cut section of glass out of the hole. It left the pane with a satisfying little pop. He set it to the side and, caught up in the moment, shoved his feet inside inside without looking first.
As his boots hit the floor, he was suddenly very grateful there was a floor at all. The room was enormous, far bigger than what could be fit in the simple geometries of the tower's walls. A cavernous, vaulted ceiling loomed overhead, held up by giant pillars of sculpted marble in the shape of dragons twisting around each other. Spread between the pillars stood several dozen display cases arrayed in a spiral. Inside, Niles traced his fingers along the glass, eyeing the objects within. Some were gold or silver objects, or piles of gems, items of obvious value. Others were more esoteric. Ancient tomes bound in dragon scales, goggles with a bizarre arrays of lenses, and a piece of a tree that looked like it had been turned to stone were but a few of the items within. He deeply want to stuff it all into a sack and leap out immediately. But there was one item that he simply had to have first.
Dominating the room, drawing the eye toward it wherever you looked, was a crystal.
On its plinth in the centre of the room, it was the source of the mysterious purple light. On closer inspection, Niles realized it wasn't solid consistent light, rather it was pulsing in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. Roughly the size of his fist, it had been cut into a vaguely square shape. A Princess cut, he remembered his fence telling him. Niles could only speculate on how big the gem had once been in its natural state...and what a price it would fetch on the black market.
Niles crept closer, drawn like iron filings to a lodestone. He ignored the easily accessible wealth in the cabinets around him. He could get that later. The gem waited for him, eager to be plucked by someone so bold as he.
A thump in the distance. He froze, ears perking up to sense the sound's direction. Whatever strange geometries allowed the room to exist played tricks on his normally acute senses, leaving him dumbfounded. Regardless of what it was, time was of the essence. He reached for the gem.
The moment his finger brushed its surface, he was flung backward. His back smashed into one of the display cases, sending shards of glass and wood in all directions. His back ached from the impact, but he didn't feel any critical injuries. Dazed, but still with enough awareness that his entrance had been announced with cacophonous fanfare, he decided that discretion was the better part of cowardice. Grabbing a handful of coins from the shattered remains of the case that had halted his fall, he uncoiled the length of rope around his shoulder and tossed the majority down and out the window. The other end he tied around the closest of the pillars. With his gloves on, he could slide down the rope in a fraction of the time it'd take him to climb down. The knot secured, he was about to do just that.
