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These early battles over, Napoleon began to rise in eminence among the feline ranks. He came to command, and in this command grew bold, though small in stature. He nurtured within his furry breast a vision of a glorious empire of Chartreux with himself as emperor. In his ambition, he mustered forces and waged a furious campaign against each and every other tribe. As a result, he achieved a series of military victories unmatched in Cat-dom even to this day.
One moment, young man, splutters the buzzard, suddenly coming to life. Cat-dom?
Yes, he says. Like King-dom. Like Christen-dom.
Excuse me, continues the buzzard, a-splutter and brow furrowed. But I can hardly see that what you are engaged in is the story of Christendom! You speak of cats!
He speaks of Cat-dom, says Laurence.
Exactly! says the old priest. Now I ask you again, hunter... what is Cat-dom?
It is the story, he says, of the tribes of Napoleon. Napoleon the Cat. Of his glorious rise and ignominious decline. Shall I continue?
Absolutely, say all three priests at once. And with this, they once again become as statues.
Why these three weirdos are so interested in this story, he cannot guess. He has some more food on his plate, however, and has the opportunity to drink lots of free wine. Lots more, that is, he thinks, smiling.
Well then, he says...