The castle was a different place at night, for sure. His muscles ached from riding the top of the carriage the rest of the way here, but the short walk from the royal stables, where they had disembarked, and the carriage parked, provided a moment of succor. The plantlife he had sewn to test out the mysterious seeds Henry had given him were still healthy and verdant, draped over the far side of the structure, and over the nearby fence, just where he had left them. For some reason, this was calming and pleasing to him.
Groomsmen had been alerted to their approach, and stood by to claim, brush, and wash the animals (as stabling them hot and wet with sweat was a great way to permanently damage their health), and to unfasten them from the carriage. As Cedar climbed down from the top, he overheard this initial reception speaking with Dame Matilda, the latter cold, and sharp eyed as always. He had come to recognize a look of exhaustion and weariness about her movements that was subtle, and only a predator like himself would notice. The woman would deserve several days of leave after this, possibly more.
"--Your bear will have to.." a bearded and mustachioed man in groomsman's livery was matter-of-factly recounting to the exhausted orcess, as he clamored down, then started collecting his clothes and other belongings.
"Hafta whut?" he interjected curiously but pleasantly, while leaning over "schnitzel"'s saddle bags, collecting his boots-- The horse giving him unpleasant and frightened eyes with him back there.
The man stopped talking abruptly, blinked in the dark, shook his head and upper body in confusion, and made no effort to conceal his attempts to look harder.
"Thought I were a reg'l'r bear now, didn'tcha?" he chuckled, before extracting the very large beating stick out from under the travel roll, beside the left-flank saddle bag. "Nearly e'rybody at sees muh nekkid does. Don' feel tuh bad, come in handy sumtimes--- It allright I sits 'ere, an' gits dis clean?" He patted the robe slung over his left shoulder with the massive pair of leather boots he had in his right hand, while leaning on the oversized staff in the left. "it way tuh dirty tuh wear righ' naow, an' we dinn'a have time tuh wash up proper afores we book'd it up 'ere."
He started his slow, somewhat hobbling walk back toward the carriage, taking a short moment to look at the horse he had been interacting with to retrieve his belongings, then giving it a gentle nuzzle. It planted all four legs, threw its ears back, and snorted indignantly at the contact--Head jerking up and back in alarm. "Oh lay off-- Ain't as bad as all 'at." he drawled testily, before giving its neck a pat. "you knowed it were commin', an' at I aint gunna e't ya.. ..calm daown yous... 'Ats it.. Good poneh.."
The heavy-set groomsman just stood slack-jawed and flabbergasted, while blinking incredulously at what he was witnessing. The very idea of a bear trying to act like groomsman, or a loving owner, for the horse -- combined with the fact that it had just talked (at some length), while carrying items like a man would had him questioning reality, and wondering if he needed to check his ale cup for black mold or not.
"Ignore master Cedric" intoned the orcess frostily, and completely unphased by the display, as the bear-man sauntered up to the small meeting.
"..Whuy e'erywun keep callin' meh 'Cedric'?.." he muttered out loud. "..Muh name's Cedar..."
He shook his head in idle confusion and amusement as he began to close in.
"---He's a bit, 'Rustic'.." she finished coldly, despite the interjection. The mustachioed and bearded man closed his mouth, and re-centered his attention on her then stood to attention. "Ma'am." he said with something resembling forced bravado. "Master 'CEDAR', shall accompany us to the castle, and 'SHALL NOT BE TARRYING HERE.'.. " she rounded her attention and part of her gaze at him, as he approached and fell in on her left side. "His majesty shall not be kept waiting, and certainly not on the whimsy of a naked bear in the garden, do you understand?" she said flatly at him. He wasn't sure he liked this side of Matilda. Regardless, the statement seemed to give the groomsman a noticeable degree of relief, and to be perfectly honest, it left him with hurt feelings. He didn't mean any harm to anyone, why did people always act scared of, or at least, very tense with him around? "You and your belongings shall get clean at the castle, as befits a royal guest. Anything less would be an insult to his majesty's courtesy, and shall not be suffered. Do not dally, and proceed with the others."
"..y... Yes ma'am!" he stammered, now his turn to blink and gawk confusedly for a moment, before following alongside Solomon, Yvonne, and the others further up, and away from the stables. He was very sure he did not like this 'strictly business' side of the orc woman, as he left her and the groomsman behind.
He looked over his shoulder, seeing the two converse tersely, before the man sharply slid his boots together, stood at attention, bowed, then set about his tasks as the other dismissed him, then rounded up the rear.
He noted that Jazdia had not met up with them yet, and he wondered what she was up to, after splitting off from the carriage upon entering town.
The prince seemed relieved and eager to be home, despite the peasant clothes he was wearing. He actually looked rather good in them, as he carried himself with a stance of dignity and poise not normally seen in someone so dressed, giving it a dramatic and impactful grace.
Cedar fell in behind the prince, Solomon and Yvonne at the front with Veronica and Kaito beside, leaving himself and and Matilda at the rear-- a veritable wall of bodies around the prince, as they walked in the dark toward the castle.
There wasn't much conversation, but he wondered just what kind of greeting he would get at the enormous and ornate doors, as they walked.
They were just approaching when Jazdia arrive out of the gloom, and seamlessly inserted herself toward the back with him, as Matilda silently advanced to the front at the last minute, as they went inside the strangely deserted, massive home.
Footsteps echoed off stone flooring when it wasn't muffled by carpets. He wasn't being shuttled in and out through service corridors this time, and saw more of the excessiveness of the edifice. The grand-hall, especially, left him feeling very strange and confused about the minds of full-blooded humans. The sheer amount of work and effort it would take to keep even just this one room clean, tidy, and in good repair, left him with a shiver. The thought of having that many people around, all the time... It made his skin crawl, and his fur to poof out impulsively. He struggled to contain the display without saying anything, but no small part of him was on high alert, wondering where all the necessary people were hiding. Further, the construction of the room was excessively ornate and polished-- Smooth marble walls and flooring, glossy finished wood working on the furnishings, colorful cloth banners hanging from far overhead down the walls, a massive fireplace that would take at enough wood to drive his own for a week.. Everything about it was alien, confusing, made absolutely no sense to him. It was like walking through a fever dream. Did the prince REALLY live here? He struggled to keep his ears forward, and his fur smoothed, focusing his concentration on that effort.
Finally, after what must have been going through half the massive home, the Chamberlain greeted them. Matilda and he did all the talking. Honestly, inside this place, he did not feel at all comfortable with talking anyway. Thankfully the meeting was brief.
Once again, he felt a pang of melancholy and anxiety as another member of their number took their parting way from them. First Reinhold at Hdur, and now the young prince, Alec.
He reminded himself that he really had not had time to properly get to know the boy, but pangs of worry and doubt still assailed him, with the boy leaving the safety of his sight and presence... He could not help himself. The impulse to care for children had been growing on him over the past few years, and along with the above reminders, he had to remind himself that the prince was not really a child anymore either, any more than Jorry really was. Still young, and in need of guidance, but not a child. The silent, internal self-admonishment did very little to curb the pang of almost parental concern and separation anxiety. He boggled at himself inwardly for having such feelings, then studiously suppressed them.
"His Highness will be eternally grateful." said the man pompously. "But I am afraid your rewards will have to wait for his Higness' wisdom. You will be summoned when the time is due. Please follow the servants, they will take you to your chambers."
... Quarters? ...
The thought danced through his head like a splash of cold water. Were they REALLY going to make him sleep, in.... this place? what did that even MEAN? Where? How?...
His attention to the here and now snapped into place like a steel trap around an unsuspecting leg. There was a cluster of about 8 or so women in brown woolens over white linen undergarments, each sporting a linen apron, in uniform, tidy attire. They almost seemed like part of the furnishings of this place, and the thought of that sent a chill through him.
Humans as furnishings.
His thoughts immediately flicked back to Jorry, and the words she had used, calling him 'master.' His stomach turned. He knew rich people liked to show off, but this... this bothered him deeply, and was a thing he could not at all comprehend being considered normal, let alone right, proper, or decent.
The group of women seemed to effortlessly part, each splitting up and adjoining beside one of their number, before the final set seemed to have a subtle, but still noticeable disagreement or squabble. The one on the left purposefully stepped on the foot of the one on the right, before gliding off to adjoin Doctor Solomon, leaving just him and the last of the women to look at each other nervously.
He could tell from her expression that she was tense, and she reeked of fear and apprehension beneath a strong smelling rose water perfume.
"If you will accompany me.. Mister.." she intoned demurely, but guardedly, as if unsure he would even understand being spoken to.
"Cedar, ma'am."
She froze for only the tiniest fraction of a second, brown eyes widening then returning to normal in the tiniest fraction of a second. His own apprehension had his senses keenly in sharp focus, and he noted everything about her. She moved stiffly, and with trepidation. The corners of her mouth were downturned and a bit stiff with a clenched jaw, her movements were fluid, but the tenseness of her muscles showed through the shape of the sleeves of her gown, all adding to the scent of her fear. This woman was terrified of him, and doing everything she could to not show it.
"Master Cedar." she recovered gracefully, before making a gentle bow. "Your quarters shall be in the East wing, in one of the garden green rooms. If you will accompany me, please."
Worriedly, he fell in behind the woman, struggling to contain his own instinctual fear and uncertainty about being led away from the others in this unnatural and labyrinthine house, alone, isolated, and potentially outmatched-- Thoughts of being jumped, subdued with a blunt blow to the head, and being drug to the dungeons scurried like rats behind his eyes. He decided that it would be prudent to break the tension with his escort as they walked.
"Uh apol'agize fer arrivin' in such a state uh.... 'undress.'.." He timidly ventured. "Muh clothes got tuh dirteh tuh wear... Truth be tol', I ain't much cleaner... When we gits where'er we goin, .. Kin I get 'is wash'ed?"
Humans tended to fare better mentally around him when he wore the robes his father had made for him for that purpose, and almost always confused him for a wild bear from out in the woods that understood even LESS about what to do or how to act inside a person's house than he did. At least he knew that you shouldn't just take stuff that smelled like food, or to damage the walls, floors, or furniture out of curiosity. Attempts at dissuading such actions, or in convincing the beasts to leave, almost always degraded into 'standing your ground' instinct from them, and then to open confrontation with the humans, who really just wanted such bears to "go away." For some reason, wearing clothes was sufficient to override these deeply ingrained behaviors in humans he met, and made interacting with them much easier, and much more pleasant-- but much like he knew he should not be a poor guest inside somebody's home, he knew that meant not wearing or tracking in mud, dirt, or grime was simple courtesy-- leaving him in just is fur, in the here and now, which was sadly, NOT simple courtesy.
The woman hesitated a moment, then stopped, and turned to address him in the hall.
"You... You are concerned about your attire, sir?" she asked, struggling, as if searching for the correct words to say.
"I's moar concerned 'bout you lot..." he said gently. "I dun esactly look like no 'guest' witout muh clothes on.. an 'ese is too dirteh tuh wear inside. Would git dirt 'ereywhere." He made a plaintive expression; head tipped forward and down, ears, half-mast, with a slight frown. "I's sorreh. .. I ain't dang'rous... Dun want no trouble..."
The tension radiated from the woman was palpable. He could tell she was looking at him with a renewed interest, quickly scanning him top to bottom before meeting his worried gaze, and perhaps for the first time, noticing it was worried, and not vicious or bestial. It felt.. Unsettling.. to be taken in like that.
Abruptly she smiled.
"A bashful bear? That's a new one. Clarissa will be speechless."
His worried expression instantly became one of confusion. He felt his head turn slightly to the right instinctively, before he could press his eyes shut, his head straight, and his fur and ears forward and flat again respectively. He opened them again, and once more felt his ears flick back in worried bewilderment as she started chuckling at him.
"You are not at all what I expected." she said pleasantly, as she resumed walking in front of him. "Your quarters are further this way; Down the corridor, then to the right, then left at the intersection. They overlook the gardens, and have a lovely view of the sunrise."
She chortled bemusedly, but discretely. "you attire shall be attended to. If you will follow me please."
His feelings of trepidation renewed, but he could not fully ascertain why. For some reason, she was giving off an aura of mischief now, rather than stark terror. It reminded him of his sisters, and that worried him, but he said nothing.
Silently he followed her down the maze of halls and doors, before stopping outside a large one with a white enameled wood finish and a large brass handle.
"This is your quarters, Master Cedar." she said professionally, with just a hint of mischievous smirk, before motioning gracefully at the door. "Please, step inside."
He double-taked, looking at her, then at the door, then at her again, before cautiously reaching for the large handle. It felt small and fragile in his hand, as everything human-sized did. Carefully, so as not to break it off the door on accident, he gave it a very gentle turn, until he felt the latch pop, and the door come free.
The room inside lived up to the earlier description-- "Green room". Rather than being filled with plants, it was a wash of bright green wall papering, carpets, and drapery, splashed with cream colored sheets and upholstery on the furnishings. Ornate illustrations in a very stylized rendering dominated the paper on the walls, only adding to the 'fever dream' quality of the building. It took him a moment to determine that they were supposed to be the leaves of plants and flowers, even though they bore only the faintest resemblance to the real things.
Inwardly, he commented that he much preferred the real things.
"We would normally draw up a bath for you, as our guest--" said the woman with a slight flutter of trepidation at the departure from obviously well-rehearsed protocol. "However.. There were... Difficulties in appropriating and stationing suitable.. accommodations on short notice. The green rooms are among the largest, but they are .. private.. and at the ends of long halls, like you saw outside. This poses a challenge to getting sufficient water and an appropriate basin drawn up. I was just informed by the grounds keeper before your arrival that he had been able to acquire a suitable basin, but the head-maid and the butler are .. not in agreement.. on how to deliver it to your quarters at this time. I can however, accept your garments for the laundry, Master Cedar."
"... aright.." he nodded, still bewildered and completely unsure of the room, or even how he was intended to sleep in it. The bed was large enough, but he had never used sheets before. His own "summer bed" at home, was essentially just a beaten and fluffed up mass of bedstraw, stuffed to the top into what could best be described as a "Bear sized corral" built into one of the corners to keep it contained. He changed out the bedding yearly in the fall, when the straw was fresh. In the winter months, he slept in the den under the flooring; essentially a large hole packed to bursting with dry papery leaves. They too, got yearly changing. He had no idea at all how to sleep on this pressed linen sheet with matching duvet and pillows ensemble he was presented with. Without looking, he handed the maid his folded over robes, which to her stature, was more like handing over a very large tarp, or an oversized quilt blanket. She opened the folds and winced at all the mud ground into the coarse linen.
"..And you were wearing this?" she asked, a bit unprofessionally. He paid it no mind-- he rather preferred it when she broke routine with her mannerisms.
"Wer' e'ery bit as dirty as it is--" he muttered. "Used a liv'ry brush ta gits most a it offn' meh... but I still real dirty. Havin' fur be right shit some times. I's afraid ta e'en touch da furn'chr."
Visions of having to perform a "Grand Laundry" of all the linens in this room after his stay danced like demonic spectres behind the woman's eyes, as she looked down at the "Thoroughly soiled" mountain of fabric in her arms, then at the worried looking bear. Abruptly, she realized he was worried about the same thing-- forcing her to have to work like that.
Bashful AND Chivalrous..How quaint! --But the vulgar language was definitely not a plus in his favor. Coarse and common. 'Very rural.' It reminded her of...
She smiled wickedly. "I believe there may be a solution to our predicament, Master Cedar, if you are willing to forgo the wait on the grounds keeper delivering your basin."
He looked at her confusedly. "While ... Not at all protocol... Since I must deliver your garments to the laundry in any case, it would be possible to get you clean and presentable there, just as easily as here, and have less.. 'Collateral damage.'"
She looked at him with a smug, but well suppressed look of bemused mischief, masked with the most studious outward presentation of perfect propriety. That feeling of being reminded of his sisters once again ruffled his fur.
"Unless you would prefer..." she continued, noting the involuntary fur fluff.
".. N.. .Naw... The sooners I gets 'is shit offn' meh, de less likely I is ta leave a mess." he stammered, before finishing with some degree of resolve. "Af'r you ma'am." he said, leaving his boots and the large stick propped against the wall just inside the door.
