Jay had somehow gotten mixed up with the White Knight, the Lord of Fire himself, Mage of Flame, Lord Adrian Fyre. There were stories told in the streets about his strange magic, his control of the hottest element, and how it was the perfect match for his noble fury. Jay could now confirm Lord Fyre was not like other wizards. He didn't use spells or runes, and he didn't have to use artifacts to channel his magic when he worked fire. It bent to his will like an eager puppy.

And if Jay said anything about it, Barkley would cut off his head. Or worse. There were still dungeons in the keep and hard labor work in the mines. It would basically be slow torture, ending in death only after years.

He couldn't think about that. He was being paid well to not listen and just be a pretty thing on a rich man's arm. Sitting with his tail tucked and shaking wasn't very pretty. The captain had been very clear: any dangerous moves and he could bark until all hell rained down in the form of the city's guard; a touch to his nose and he ran to the captain in a subtler version of the same thing; any misstep and he could kiss goodbye any hope of children.

All Jay had to do was sit in the lord's lap like a fancy who did this sort of thing for fun.

It sounded easy, but not listening meant he had to find something to distract himself. Something that he could do while still sitting in Lord Fyre's lap and still looking calm, cool, and regal. (He wasn't, but pretending seemed to work so far.) He settled down next to the warm thigh, scooting his butt back and resting his front paws in a crossed position. The booth wasn't exactly small, but sitting closer to Lord Fyre added to his image of Dumb Animal.

It wasn't exactly a hardship, either.

Before the parade, Jay had expected some ugly, lazy wizard rich off his magic and deep into his studies. Someone with little connection to the people who happened to give sensible orders because his time in the military gave him a good sense of strategy. Someone old, with old values. After the parade, he expected someone used to giving orders and showing off. A playboy who expected others to do his dirty work for him.

Instead, he got the handsome man giving off heat like a warm home fire. This wasn't a blazing warmth meant to scald but the soft comfort of the familiar and family wrapped up in a package that would get any woman throwing themselves at his feet. Lord Adrian Fyre must have an entire harem of women wanting to taste that spark, and there were a few men who wouldn't object either.

Lord Fyre was tall. Even as a dog, Jay could tell that. He had the long, red hair of those with enough money to care for it, braided back in a complicated pattern that probably took hours. He had a strong jaw and thick, strong biceps. Lord Fyre didn't spend all his time behind a desk or stuffing his face with fancy food. He spent time doing something that kept his muscles toned.

Jay preferred women himself, but that didn't mean he didn't understand the appeal. Lord Fyre was something to strive for, something to admire—and also something he could never achieve. There wasn't any question about that. Lord Fyre didn't have any problems with danger or protecting himself, and Jay was just an accessory—another necklace or ring—to make the noble look good.

What had Captain Barkley been thinking? There wasn't any point to Jay being here. He was useless. He was just a dumb pup with one foot halfway out of the slums and three of them still stuck in muck.

A mug of something was set on the table and Jay sat up, his head cocking to the side and ears twitching as he watched the waitress. She was nervous, as expected with Lord Fyre down in this part of town, and couldn't stop staring at the noble's—

Oh. Well, Jay suspected that was probably pretty fine too. Not that he was any judge of that sort of thing, but the rest of the Lord was fine enough. That likely was too.

She giggled at something the men said, and then she was off with a swish to her skirts that was almost an invitation. Jay almost laid back down, but then his twitching nose caught the scent of something that wasn't sweaty male, stale beer, or lusty people of either gender. It was out of place for a tavern.

Jay's tail started tucking between his legs without any real input from his brain. Thankfully it was hidden between Lord Fyre and the booth so it wasn't very noticeable.

Was the drink supposed to smell like that? It reminded Jay of the hospital, but even the people at the hospital had to eat and drink. They were dying, not dead. Was it suspicious enough to raise an alarm?

Probably not, but Jay's gut said not to let the lord drink it. If it was tainted and Lord Fyre died then Jay would be blamed. It was better to be safe. When the noble reached for the glass, Jay stood and moved into his lap so Lord Fyre's hand landed on Jay's head instead. He twisted his neck in a common display for scritches. If the lord reached for the mug again Jay might be able to knock against the table and spill the liquid. It would look innocent.

His head bobbed with the movement of Lord Fyre's fingers behind his ear. The lord's palm was big enough to cup the back of Jay's head, and those strong fingers in his fur felt better than any scratch Jay had gotten from the ill, dying, or grief-stricken at the hospital. He would be happy to roll over and beg for more of that feeling. He almost purred in contentment and forgot why he was there for the smallest of seconds.

There was talking, but Jay couldn't hear it. That wasn't why he'd been hired. The captain had been very clear that he was not to listen. Even if they were talking about slums and street rats and "kindly stop robbing all our visitors and admit you're an orphanage already" that was too close for comfort. If the guard had stumbled across him and Ken a year ago, they would have been called "orphans". It was none of his business anymore. He was old enough to raise Ken on his own. Listening wasn’t an option.

Even if there were threats of execution and attempts to bribe a highly skilled wizard who could burn them all and get away with it.

Pretty young things weren't to Lord Fyre's tastes, apparently.

Okay, so Jay was listening. It was hard not to when he was standing on Lord Fyre's lap and they were talking right over his very large ears. His lips were sealed, though. He had no desire to lose his head (or other body parts) over something as useless as gossip.

"The king's doing that parade thing again," the street thug belched. Jay recognized him by reputation only: the rat lord. He catered to tastes that were technically illegal. He’d spun the laws to work in his favor though and only the workers under him ever got caught for anything.

Jay made sure neither he nor Ken were ever anywhere near the streets he ruled, even just to pass through. The rat lord raised thieves, and once a thief always a thief. The Rat rubbed at his stubbled chin in a way Jay thought might be deliberately drawing attention to the awkward shave. Trying to show off his wealth and doing the opposite. "Perhaps you were thinking to make us nice and shiny for the purses?" he asked in a somewhat thick lisp. One too many punches to the jaw had left the side of his face permanently swollen.

"It's a start," Lord Fyre muttered. His petting slowed to a more intense push from the top of Jay's head down to the middle of his back. Jay raised his tail and almost preened under the firm pressure. "I was hoping for something a little more permanent. You have a lot of little ones under your care. There's no need for them to starve, or steal, or shake from the cold. The army takes in orphans of any age, even adults. Food, shelter, and training are supplied all year."

The rat lord scoffed. "Sludge that turns your guts to rocks, tents, and first turn at the front lines of a fight," he jeered. His accent was getting worse, and the pats to Jay's back slowed to a stop. Lord Fyre was noticing the change as well. He'd been trying to look better off than he was at first, maybe thinking Lord Fyre was meeting with him as some sort of equal—or thinking that Lord Fyre needed something and he was about to gain some very heavy blackmail material. He normally stuck pretty solidly to stealing, but blackmail was something any street lord knew how to use. Jay's nose twitched. The man was sweating up a storm, probably from moving his overweight bulk out from the shadows of his den. Men like the rat lord didn't come out of their holes often. "Mine'll live longer in the gutters," the rat lord grumbled.

"Not if I clean them out," Lord Fyre threatened. Jay sat, staying in the noble's lap instead of moving back to his place at the strong thigh. "You seem to have forgotten who holds the power in this city. If you can't keep the little monsters in check then I guess I need to keep you in check."