Berek raised a hand, the bartender refilling his mead. Tonight was one of the few nights the young blacksmith was allowed himself to relax. A second mug wouldn't necessarily hurt. He saw the liquid gold filling the cup, and once it foamed at the brim he took a sip. The brew was as delicious as the last, and he let out a satisfied gasp. The young man felt like the only thing that would make this moment better was some good food, but he promised himself he'd cook when he got home.

At his feet were a sack of foodstuffs, just the last reminder of his day full of errands. The amount of beef, chicken, cheese, wheat bread and salt would last him a few weeks, just in time for him to finish his most recent batch of contracts. Outside the window, Berek didn't notice the shaved, and once voluptuous figure being shoved into the mud from the workers that were hauling a carriage worth of fertilizer into their small business.

He simply enjoyed his mead, and would have continued to do so if not for the men who walked in not moments later, laughing uproariously and speaking too loud to be ignore.

"Dumb bitch deserved it." the lead one said, clenching his fists. "Had the lack of common sense to not get out of the mule's way!"
"Aye. Probably has the plague, that one." the next one said, and the others shook their heads. "Well if she don't now, she will soon. The mud and cold'll get you as quick as the illness."
"What say once we're done here we go outside and have a little fun with her before she's dead?"
"Fun? She might have been a looker at some point but she's skin and bones now, unless you mean shoving her down again. I did see a small coin purse 'round her belt. Must be from losing all that hair."

Berek took another sip of his drink, eyeing the men and wondering what in God's name they were talking about. He sighed his next words. "Well whatever it is, doesn't sound good." He groaned and stood up off his barstool, giving the bartender a coin and a nod of thanks for heading to the tavern door.

He pushed open the door with a strong hand, and found a curious and bedraggled sight next to the alleyway.

Ferona had entered the wig shop near closing time. She was dressed like a ragamuffin but one incongrous thing kept the owner from tossing her out on her rear. It was the two feet of glorious red hair on her head, slightly mussed but impossibly well kempt during its growth years to belong to a street urchin. That was exactly why she didn't want to give it up. But the choice was either to give it up now while it was still in good shape and before she starved, or later once it was so messed up she could no longer take pride in it.

She wasn't foolish enough to wait.

However, she underestimated how awful it would feel to loose that last connection to her old life, her old self. It felt like her own skin was being peeled away and she could only sit there, in shock, intently watching her shiny white scalp emerge from the sea of red.

At first she couldn't cry, but then she wouldn't cry.

She, who had once had an entire kingdom at her beck and call, could no longer control her own life! But she could do this much. She could make a sacrifice, make money, and not shame herself crying.

It was a hollow-eyed, unsmiling young woman that accepted the purse. And who tucked it away and walked out into the growing dark. She wandered, searching for a cheap place to eat. Finally her eyes lit on a tavern, which she knew might offer a hot meal, a drink, and even possibly a bed! Not to mention there would be a fire! Not another sleepless night in the cold. She crossed the street toward it. Or tried to.

She should have smelled the manure from a mile away but the whole city reeked. SHE even reeked--and without any pretty scents to mask it! She did hear and finally see the mule but even now she wasn't always prepared to be ignored. She expected them to make way.

That was her first mistake.

When the mule swerved they almost lost their cargo. It set them yelling at each other to get control and what the hell was going on up there! And then the blame was laid on her head, drawing their attention.

She kept herself from stumbling and cast them her most scathing look. "You heathens almost ran me over!"

But that was her second mistake. They weren't just going to take that from a peeled potato headed beggar.

She demanded they appologize. They laughed in her face. She slapped the nearest man and things devolved from there. She should've walked away... Although perhaps they would've taken exception to that too.

While the mule driver stared at her, cheek stinging, his buddy shoved knocked her down. He threw in a kick just to make things even and they soon finished up and went inside.

Ferona couldn't move. She was too busy choking on a scream and trying to breath. The tears she'd been holding back came and fell. She hunched around her ribs, trying to figure out why it felt like she'd been stabbed instead of kicked. It stank worse than ever right here but she couldn't drag herself away from the spot for several minutes. When she finally did move it was only so a horse didn't step on her big bald head. She collapsed to the side of the building and things went black for a little bit.

Berek blinked, eyes widened in bewilderment at the muddied and broken form next to the alleyway. "God," he breathed, making sure he tied his foodstuffs to his belt as he made his way over to the woman. At least, he believed it was a woman. He knelt down and tried to wake her, seeing tear streaks down her heart-shaped face. He felt like going back into the tavern and beating the men he'd seen earlier, but now wasn't the time.

"Come on," he whispered, slipping his arms under her form. He'd wash his shirt later, the mud not the issue at the moment. While he drew this woman a bath, he'd wash the clothes. But for now it looked like he had nearly a mile to walk and an extra one hundred and twenty pounds to carry. Though it was far easier for him than most men, having been at the forge for over half of his life. He wanted to wake her and ask her what had happened to her, but he'd wait a bit on that account. Maybe she'd awake on the way there?

Feeling her legs and body as he carried her, he could tell she was cut up and underfed. Guess he'd lose a few days worth of food to help her out, but he wasn't going to just leave her there. A dog barked and bounded around him as he left the town proper, and a man gave him a curious look at what he held in his hands. But Berek paid them no mind, except a smile to the dog. He had a full night ahead of him.

Ferona stirred in pain when he picked her up but didn't wake. There was a shoe print on the less muddy side of her, the one not pressed against him, hinting at the kick. She did not dream in that deep sleep but eventually roused when he began to wipe away some of the mud.

He was lightly washing her skin with a rought cloth, so that her first impression was of a giant cat licking her awake. She threw out an exploratory hand and indeed impacted a fuzzy cheek. But it didn't belong to a cat. She stroked the side of his face briefly, processing the information, and blearily opened her eyes.

There was a barbarian staring at her! It didn't matter that he was dressed better than she was... Compared to her slightness, he was quite a large and also dark man sitting across from her. Her skin had been badly burned the first few days and darkened as well (to her horror) but it was nothing compared to the tan on him. It gave him a Common appearance. But although her heart beat faster at the sight of him, she didn't recognize him at all. Not even as one of the men that attacked her.

"Who...?" She tried to sit up but cried out at the pain in her side, clutching it, and subsided back. "Oh the devil take the ones that dared accost me!" she cursed under her breath.

Berek blinked from the weak, wet, slap. He looked like a dog that had just heard a strange noise, more surprised and curious than anything. "Sorry," he said. Her words seemed to catch up to him, and not for the first time he wondered who she was. That was an upper class accent if he'd ever heard one. For a moment he thought one of the greedy lords had thrown out one of their mistresses on the street, but he suppose he'd find out later.

"Easy now," he told her when she yelped in pain. He moved one of his hands to lift her up a tad to help her sit up. He felt like he was trying to help a bird with a broken wing. "I'll give you what medicine I have, but I drew a hot bath and supper will be ready soon. I...don't have women's clothes here. But I've plenty of shirts and trousers. Just make yourself at home, ok?" He said to her. In the other room, Ferona would hear a 'boof!'

Her arm on that side instinctively clutched his as he supported her. Her mouth fell open slightly as she breathed through the stabbing pain. Where her ribs broken?! She laid her other hand over them, as if that could protect them. What was she going to do?! And just like that he offerred to help her.

She was surprised and her face displayed it clearly. Green eyes met caramel and there was a moment of tender appreciation she didn't know she was even capable of feeling... And then it all shut down as she wondered WHY he would help her. Out of the goodness of his heart? Not likely.

His voice and accent were not bad. She'd been treated to a lot of funny sounding people lately. He'd never mingled with the upper crust but he wasn't just some serf either. But she dreaded to see what clothing he had to offer. She looked him over. It may look good enough on him, that white shirt contrasting his skin tone, but what business did she have wearing any such thing? Her nose wrinkled in the most condescending expression of distaste he had probably ever seen.

"Why... Thank you," she started to say but in a very prim and dry way.

But her face relaxed with interest at the bark and her head turned. "Oh, there's a dog?"

Her eyes were quite pretty, and they warmed for a moment that he thought enhanced them even further, until suddenly the warmth was gone and a coldness crept into her face, distaste evident. Berek wouldn't keep himself from helping, mind you. But he hadn't even learned her name yet, and once she was feeling better he'd lead her back to wherever she called home. For now he's have to deal with the attitude.

Well he'd never heard anyone give a less appreciative thank you in his life. It was a contrast he didn't even know existed! Well...that was not entirely true. But he'd never heard a woman talk like that. It was actually oddly cute. "Yes," he chuckled. "Humphrey's in there waiting for me to start cooking is all. Maybe once you get cleaned up I'll introduce you to him." He gave a light smile, and with a gentleness belying his muscled form, he lifted her up slowly, before ever so lightly placing her dainty feet in the heated water. Well, at least she seems to like dogs.

"Now, if you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen. Ok?" He asked her, keeping his hands on her waist and side to make sure she didn't slip. She still had on her rags, but honestly water with them on or off, it would be an improvement from the mud that caked her skin. He could tell that was one of the things that had soured her mood. She must be highborn.

He let her go gently, placing his hands on his hips and thinking to himself. Good thing I was there then. Any opportunist would hold a highborn for ransom these days.

She didn't quite get the chuckle. Was he laughing at her? Maybe because of her excitement about the dog.. that had been a slight non-sequitor. She didn't like being laughed at for any reason though, at least not when she wasn't purposefully being witty.

"Humphrey," she repeated. "Rather a lordly name..." Probably moreso than his was, she'd bet.

When he smiled at her, something eased in her chest. She wanted to object to being manhandled but she was in no position to do so, so she endured it stiffly. As soon as her tired, achy, cut up feet were introduced to the water she hissed but went weak with relief at the same instant.

She tried to read him but he didn't come across as anything other than sincere and helpful. Far more sincere than any servant she'd ever had. That made it all the more awkward, however. How should she take his kindness? It felt like a trick. She was relieved when he carefully released her and retreated.

She glanced over her shoulder thinking, 'Maybe he just wants to ransom me?' She looked away, smiling despite her situation, because if that was the case he'd be sorely disappointed. No one wanted her back.

He just didn't need to know that yet.

She waved a hand dismissively.

His mouth went slack for a moment at her not even dismissing him with words. He tried to say something, but in the end decided to say nothing at all, giving her a nod before heading out towards the kitchen.

The cottage was fairly large for a single person to live in. The tub where Ferona washed was in the central workroom, where on the left side was the forge and the right side was the tub next to his workbench and tools where he practiced as a carpenter. On that side of the room was also a door that led to a long kitchen and small eating area, with a wooden dinner table and a few smaller tables where food was to be prepared. He'd set up his food earlier, and now was chopping up some chicken and various herbs and spices, as well as a potato or two into a short pan of boiling water and milk, preparing potato chicken stew.

Humphrey the basset wagged his little tail and watched Berek with a happy pant, content to smell the food and soak in the steam from the pot. It was nearly ready when Ferona was done. Outside the tub, she would see a pole with various shirts and trousers, though even just wearing one of the blacksmith's shirts would fit like a small dress on a woman of her size.

Berek would start humming to himself as he finished cooking and began setting up the table. An old tune his father used to sing to him, the smith's voice low and smooth.

After he was gone, she waited a bit to see if he would come back. When he did not, she carefully undressed, having to pull her arms inside the dress first and THEN lift it off with her good arm. The rest was easy enough though. She held the purse for a moment considering what to do with it. The fact was if he'd wanted to steal it he could have... Perhaps he wasn't after money after all. What DID he want then? He hadn't looked at her in a lustful way or stuck around or come back now that she was undressed. Of course she looked like a horror at the moment, but still. She couldn't fathom what he got from helping her.

The answers would come later though.

She picked up the rag he'd left behind and wiped herself off as much as she could before getting in the water. But the water still clouded in a way that turned her stomach. Who wanted to bathe like this? It was disgusting! But this water had been heated for her and it felt amazing. Furthermore, although the tub was probably modestly sized for him it wasn't too squeezed for her. She sank as much of her body under the water as she could and eventually moved her legs out of the way to sink her head and shoulders under too. But as she did she was reminded of her missing hair. It was just unavoidable at that moment since it was the first time she'd ever put her head underwater without hair. She shot back upwards and then looked at her reflection in the water. There it was again. It would all grow back... But it looked and felt so permanent now.

Finally alone and safe, she did cry.

It didn't give her much time to look around or think about the man. But she noticed she was in a workshop while getting out and getting dressed. She picked a beige shirt... didn't he ever wear colors? And the pair of pants that seemed cleanest. But honestly, without the knowledge that they HAD been laundered, she fretted over the cleanliness of all of it. Then again... look at what she HAD been wearing... She didn't even know where those clothes had come from. They were on her when she woke up. Out of the castle, out of the kingdom, out of everything she'd ever known.

But that was a bad road to go down right now.

She put the purse in the pocket of these pants and walked out. She looked around a bit and followed the sound of singing, a song she did not know. When was the last time she'd sung anything? Much longer than the last time she'd heard singing, for sure. She had people to do that for her. But his singing seemed to be an expression of content as he worked, not for entertainment. Strange...

She looked over the meager offerings he'd cooked. But the past few weeks... months? had changed her in at least one way now. It actually looked like a feast. Her stomach growled loud and long and a blush seemed to blossom all the way to her scalp.

"I..." he said to her when he placed the bowl of stew in front of her. "am hungry as hell too." The spoon in the thick stew was large, almost ladle-like. Humphrey had plopped down next to her chair, and the muscled young man began scooping a bowl for himself as well. "You feel better?" He asked her, glancing over his shoulder at her. She seemed so unsure about everything except the food. After a moment, he realized it might be stupid question, at least to her. She might feel better, but she was still bruised, hungry, and shaved.

He took off his smith apron (having put it on to cook) and set it down. He let her go ahead and dig in while he went to fetch the medicine to help her wounds, heading into the storage room and sift through a cabinet. Moving aside various items, he found the herbs he was looking for. "Good." He said to himself, making his way back into the kitchen once again and placing the herbs in another boiling pot.

"You're lucky I found you. Those ruffians from the street were thinking of going back out there to mess with you some more. That seemed excessive," he joked, cutting up the last of the herbs. "So I helped. I never did like most of the men in the town. They'd gut you for an extra coin."

Letting the herbs boil, he pulled up a chair across from her and sat down, beginning to eat his stew as well. It was hearty but tasty, considering. And filling as well. "You're not good to walk for a long while, and I don't have a horse to take you anywhere. I have a donkey but...I don't think that is your style." He winked. "If you want to stay here for a bit, you're welcome to. Just make sure you don't wander too far. If you head opposite of the town from my house, the forest is filled with wolves this time of year."

In the royal court someone would have made a joke at her expense. Well perhaps not HER expense... But the other option was to smoothly cover over such slight embarrassments; which is what he did. She was impressed. Managing a slight smile of approval, Ferona sat herself.

She felt awkward in these clothes but tried not to display it. She held herself very stiffly but didnt keep trying to readjust the fabric, even though it didnt fit her. She repressed the urge each time.

That wasnt the only reason she was stiff, however. As some twisting had shown her, she was badly damaged where she'd been kicked. And this was on top of a motley of other small bumps and scrapes. Her feet were the next worse although they'd already begun to toughen up. She shifted slightly and looked down, ashamed of her condition. "My ribs are bruised," she admitted.

She began to pet the floppy earred dog and suddenly missed her own pets terribly. Dogs were the only good companions, she thought gravely, smoothing the fur between his eyebrows and then scratching behind his ears, enjoying the way it made his tongue loll out. "Goood boy, Humphrey!" she said.

When the man came back over and set down his bowl she noticed his leather apron but didnt imagine it was for anything other than cooking. She stated to eat when he left again. It was... quite good.

Her mouth turned down at his statements and she lowered her spoon. Was he fishing for thanks,  explaining himself, or trying to make conversation? Either way, she didnt appreciate his choice of topic and was silent.  When he sat down she tensed. His whole conversation threw her off. Yes, she was lucky he'd found her, she supposed. And then a dose of sarcasm and a wink, though they were still strangers! And then an invitation...  Alright... and a warning. It could have been calculated to manipulate her and keep her here but she didnt think so. There probably WERE wolves in the woods. She shivered at the thought.

Finally she just said, "Who ARE you?" She truly didnt know what to make of him.

Berek blinked. He was expecting her to ask him his name, but not in that fashion. Had he done something wrong or had he insulted her? Maybe she was used to her lord mistreating her? Either way, at least they had some common ground when it came to the food and Humphrey. Even underfed and shaved, she had an attractive, imperious look about her that was only enhanced by her pleasure at having a dog near her. That, and he did have sympathy for the state she was in. He wouldn't have helped her otherwise.

"I'm the blacksmith of the town. My name is Berek." he said to her, and ate another spoonful of the stew. "Been here for a few years, working as an armorer mostly, but sometimes I forge blades or even pots." Usually he didn't talk a lot, but she seemed to be so taken aback by everything he had to fill the silence somehow. "Went into town for some supplies and a drink when I found you on the side of the road..."

"What happened?" he asked her. "What's your name?"

Berek the Blacksmith. So the tools she had seen belonged to that trade... And now that she thought about it, she had an image in her mind of intensely muscular men in aprons in front of fires. He didn't quite fit that image, but perhaps that was just what the royal blacksmiths had looked like. It made sense they would be the best of the best, after all. In any case, she hadn't laid eyes on them or thought of them in years. And now she was here. Like this. Incredible.

Then came the moment she'd come to dread. At first she told everyone she saw who she was but eventually they stopped laughing and started getting angry at her "lies." Many in this town that had already heard it just ignored her now or even pitied her. Each reaction was worse than the last. It was why she never even tried to tell the wig maker. So how could she tell Berek? Especially since there was one fate that hadn't come up yet and it was one she dreaded the most--being thought mad.

However she might have a bit of bravery left in her. For the first time she was clean and fed, had money, and was being spoken to like a worthwhile human being. (Even if it wasn't as reverently as she was accustomed to.)

"...What do you know about the kingdom of Demorion? It is," she took a breath and sighed, "Very Far Away."

Well this was going nowhere like he had imagined. He chewed on his stew absently as he listened and asked her question. "I've...heard of it. I've not bee there." He watched her curiously, wondering just exactly where this was going. Below her, Humphrey decided to waddle over to Berek to see his old friend. The Blacksmith absently scratched the hound's head.

She tapped the table with her ragged nails in a rare show of discomposure, watching his face.

"There has been a rebellion brewing there for years. Long before the king was assassinated and the queen died in childbirth. Princess Ferona," oh god was it weird to talk about herself in the third person! "assumed the throne for lack of any male heirs and had yet to marry when she suddenly disappeared."

She took a breath. "That's the thing, you know. She DISAPPEARED," this fact really couldn't be stressed enough. "They claim she's dead and her sister believes it. But if there was a body, Faeryn would've known it wasn't me!"

Her face broke at the last statement and everything she'd been holding back rushed up inside her. But even then she held it back, burying her face in her hands.

Needless to say both the pronouncement and that bit of theater he, God help him, believed was true, the face Berek had was priceless. His jaw went slack and he placed his spoon back into the bowl. Even when she began sobbing, he didn't know what to do immediately. Of course she might be crazy or lying, but if she was she was an incredible actress. "Hold on, hold on." He implored her, and when she continued crying he got up and knelt beside her.

This certainly explained why she looked down her nose at him. "It's ok." He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Humphrey watched and wagged his tail, though his head tilted and his left ear was erect at what was happening, as if he could understand every word. "Look, I don't know much about politics and..." He was about to say 'if you're right' but he halted himself. "Look, don't cry. You've got a place to stay here for as long as you need." He let the words sink in. "Ferona?"

Well he didn't know if she would insist on the title she claimed, but either way at least he knew her name now. Or a name, that is.

She wiped her eyes, looking up at him and seeing his expressions change. He looked appalled! As appalled as she felt! Why was she crying? Her mother would have had a fit to see her daughter cry before Anyone!

Just like that she began to shut it down, to draw it all back in. She dropped her hands into her lap and clenched them. Then she shook of his hand and cut her eyes at him, though with a lot less heat than she imagined she was showing. It was as if to say, 'who's crying?!'

But his welcoming attitude and the simple acknowledgment of her name... Oh, even she could not stand against that.

She was not the type to throw herself in a man's arms, cry, and be grateful. There was a time she might have done that to her mother or father but that was long past. Now, however, she didn't know HOW to react. She looked at him helplessly, sincerely floundering.

"Ah... that will have to do. I suppose," she said quietly. She didn't say it with the disdain she'd shown earlier. But frankly it wasn't ideal! For a lot of reasons and not just her tastes!

Well he felt like he was making progress with her at least. "Ok," he said to her when she said she'd agree to stay. He didn't know where else she would GO, but hey, progress. "Here, I'll get you your medicine. It's not going to taste good, and you'll need some different ailments for your wounds." He sighed, and stood up. "But for now it's a good start. Humphrey you keep her company while I prepare her medicine."

The dog boofed aloud, and happily sat next to Ferona while Berek put the medicinal brew into a wooden cup, placing it by her stew. "You can take my bed for the next week or two. I have a cot I can take. Tomorrow I'll need to get to work on my contracts." He smiled. "It's good to meet you."

She felt relieved, despite herself, that she could stay. As to the medicine... should she just take it? On the one hand it couldnt be as good as what she was used to. On the other hand, he must know more about it than she did... considering she knew NOTHING. She petted the dog again, this time letting him roll over so she could scratch his belly.

She eyed the medicine but picked it up and drank it down. It tasted even worse than she'd imagined. She shuddered. Then she ate more stew, partially to wash the taste away.

Her eyes flew up to his when he spoke of the sleeping arrangments. If she could walk into someone's house and turn them out, she would've done so already. She looked at the floor and nodded.

"It is nice to meet you too, Berek," she replied. He was the first kind person she'd met. Perhaps the first kind person ever, in fact. She wasnt sure she entirely trusted him just like that... but his kindness seemed to have no strings attached yet.