Cedar reached into the front pocket of the elaborate jacket top that had been made for him, and extracted an equally, if not shamelessly, elaborately woven kerchief, then used it to dob his face around his eyes, as the maid came scuttling up to him, huffing and a bit out of breath.
"His Majesty wishes for you to please remain, and to not be so quick to leave over the discourtesy our other guests." she breathed, before leaning against the wall.
"Why are you always getting lost, Mr Cedar? Your room is THE OTHER WAY!"
He snuffed at her. He hated to admit it, but in all honesty, most humans all looked more or less the same to him. Broad pink faces, short, thin, rounded off noses, short, flat jaws, lanky builds... His dad had advised him to NEVER say this to them, saying it would never be accepted in a good or generous light, but with these maid and man-servant types in the castle, all dressing identically, and even doing their hair the same, it was VERY hard to keep track of which one he was talking to. Admittedly, some were a lot more attractive than others; Yvonne, for instance, was a very fine woman. A little short for his liking,--but that probably didn't matter any, since she clearly was not interested in him, judging from her scent-- but muscled in all the right ways, and she carried herself with pride and confidence. A strong, and independent woman that wouldn't accept any bullshit--Very Very attractive, for a human..(and more importantly, she knew how to drink!)... Then there were others, that, while clearly attracted to him (In fact, disgustingly, and insufferably attracted to him)-- like lady Stritzel-- that were not really at all attractive. She was thin, and lanky, with almost no muscle definition, and... was just downright "touchy" (in that she seemed way too eager to touch without permission), and left him feeling like he needed to return to the laundry to scrub with the soap some more to wash the dirtiness off. But generally? Yeah-- they all looked the same.
Thankfully, they didn't all smell the same. He could tell this was Jeanie, the maid that he and Yvonne had convinced to share a drink with them earlier that day. She still had a faint waft of alcohol about her, which made him smile.
"Oh.. uh.. Hiya 'dere miss Jeanie.." he muttered, trying to work up the energy to sound jovial. "Is ih' really da odder way?" he asked pleasantly, only to be given a raised eyebrow and a nod. "It is?-- well, ohkay-- Sorruh 'bout dat..."
She sighed, and shook her head with incredulity. "I know the castle is large Master Cedar, but how you can confuse the WEST wing with the EAST one is just... I don't understand..."
She grabbed his huge paw-like hand gently, leaving him just barely enough time to tuck the weighty metallic object into his waistcoat pocket. "This way-- Past the main hall, and then ..." she rambled, giving directions that were completely meaningless to him. All the hallways looked the same to him; an endless maze of corridors made of stone, polished tile, soft carpeting, paintings, tapestries, and various other expensive decorations, but otherwise completely uniform; with equally spaced and identical looking doors on either side, occasionally interspersed with the less showy doors leading into the servant's corridors. His vision was just fine, more or less; The issue at hand, was that he did not live in a "vision-dominated world." Humans often told stories of getting turned around backward inside of forests or caves, but he never had such problems, as a few discrete scent markings here and there were every bit as good as painting a wall bright red was for a human, and far quicker and easier to accomplish. He himself, and numerous other animals, would just select a random rock or tree, and rub (or.. smear.. ahem.) their scent on it, indicating to others that they lived there, what their health was like, what gender they were, and a host of other things. Essentially, 'street signs' to anyone with a nose that was at least even passably useful. Humans, it seemed to him, were completely oblivious to these. His dad had expressed that he knew "of" them, but confided he could not smell anything of interest, even when right up next to one, other than "Smell a bit like pee, prolly wolf", or "Smell musky. Prolly boar." This had always amused and confounded Cedar, as his dad was otherwise very bush-crafty, and knowledgeable of the creatures that lived there, and how they got along, despite lacking the senses needed to truly participate. Rather than scent, Jack used his vision for nearly everything that his ears could not pick out. Truly, an amazing thing to the bear-man, and amusing to both himself, and to his mother.
Here in this castle though, it would be "Indiscreet" and "Not polite" to mark the halls or walls-- so his dad had told him-- leaving him to do his best to try and memorize the halls by their innate fragrances and scent profiles, but they kept changing in frustrating and unpredictable ways. In the morning, the hall outside his room had a vague scent of blueberry tarts.. and now, in the evening, it had smelled vaguely of ammonia and some fruit he could not really identify. It made no sense to him how the whole corridor could change like that in so short a time.
"..Which then ends up here, at the end of the East Wing, and right outside your door-- SIMPLE as that!"
He just shook his head side to side tiredly. The corridor smelled like.. Gravy. Not very intensely, but.. yes. Beef gravy of some kind. This was just too much. He HAD to ask.
"Uh... Jeanie? Coul' yas tell muh why it is da hall smell like gravey jus naow, bu' smell like somebuddy soak' some kinda fruit inna pot a ammonia afore da parteh?"
She looked at him like he was insane, with the side of her mouth ajar, and raised eyebrows.
"..what?"
"Likes uh said-- an, afore 'at, it smell like bluhberreh tart... Kinda like da tart smell..." he smiled bemusedly. "It change e'ery time uh walks daown ih'.... Git me all confuse' it does. All turn' round backward ih' seems..."
"...It smells like gravy?" she asked with the same confused and incredulous expression.
"Yeah-- Gravey... Beef gravey--- but no' da kin' wit' milk innit.. naw, da kin' ya makes wit' onions and wa'er..."
She boggled, and shook her head as if it were the most bizarre and random question she had been asked all night. "I really couldn't tell you, Master Cedar-- I do not smell any gravy in the corridor-- but I'll take your word for it. They have been making food all day for the party, so maybe you are smelling that from the kitchens.. but..."
"Dey on da odder side o' da buildin', yeah... I knowed." he drawled with a smile.
She looked at him confusedly and somewhat concernedly, then leaned against the doorframe to his room, as if trying very hard to get a grasp on reality. "And you can smell that all the way from here?" she ventured, cautiously.
"Aww naw-- Ain't cookin' gravey daown dere-- ey's cookin' fish! --Da kin' wit da red flesh in'em--.. SALMON! Yeah, 'at's it! Salmon!" he said triumphantly, with a bit of pride and straightness in his posture. "Smell like it frum daown 'atta way, an tuh da lef'-- It da HALLWAY as smells like gravey!"
This latest revelation left her at a complete loss for words, she muttered something seemingly inaudible under her breath, before sucking in, holding it a moment while trying to straighten her face and regain poise and composure. The process took several seconds before she stood fully erect, then turned to face him with absolutely perfect candor-- prim, and proper.
"I am afraid I am at a loss for how it could be that you smell these things in the hallway, Master Cedar, we clean them thoroughly many times daily, but I will make inquiries."
It was his turn to look incredulous and confused at this last revelation. "... Manuh time.. A DAY?" he rumbled. ".. Uh kin see clean'n em e'ery few day 'er so... buh.... Many time A DAY?"
"Oh yes! HAVE TO!" she quipped, with color seeming to bloom in her otherwise uniformly pale cheeks. "Or the DUST starts to gather! SO MUCH DUST!"
He gave her a suspiciously sideways look with a raised eyebrow. "...Dus'?" he drawled. "..Ya's clean all durn day, on accounta a lil' dus'?"
"You have NO IDEA!" she quipped, quickly looking a bit flustered. "It shows on EVERYTHING if you don't keep on top of it! Mistress Sylvia haunts the corridors with a white cotton glove, and if she finds even the slightest hints of it, we get in serious trouble! Regular cleanings, 4 times daily!"
"... Haun'? ... She sum kina ghos' er summat? I would'na .." he started, intending to say that he 'wouldn't put much stock in that kind of thing, excepting for what he's been exposed to the past few days', but she cut him off.
"GODS I WISH!-- No, she's the head maid-- A withered old crone of a woman in a black dress and a white apron. She carries a wooden spoon with her, and whacks us if she feels we aren't working hard enough!"
"She.. HIT yahs?!.." he breathed, incredulous that anyone would treat such nice and helpful people as the castle's staff like that, even feeling a bit protective of them upon hearing this revelation.
"I've... I've said too much.." she stammered, once again struggling to regain her composure. "Please... Stay and enjoy the rest of the evening, Master Cedar, I.. I have duties to attend to..."
"Wuh.. wait wait wait..." he drawled quickly as she tried to pry herself away from him and scurry off like a scared cat. "I's fammish'-- Afore's ya goes, kin ... Kin uh gits soma dat food in muh room? I seen'd 'ere were a table in 'ere...."
She made an exasperated sigh, as if continued conversation with him was making her die a little inside. "... Yes... I suppose... you could..." she muttered.
He clapped his paws together and smiled at her broadly-- (a display that was actually a bit frightening if one did not see the absolute joy that was in the eyes, rather than focusing on the impressively sharp dentition his mouth possessed)-- causing her to recoil in horror, before he quickly slapped a paw over his face in alarm. "oh--- Surruh 'bou' 'at!" came a muffled but mirthful baritone rumble from behind the paw. It was his turn to studiously put on 'proper posture', carefully smoothing his face to make it appear completely safe, and non-hostile, with body language that was alert, but friendly. "uh's is lit'rly starvin', ya un'erstand; --Food at da parteh mighty fine, buh'... Such smaaal servin's... Righ' tortur' ta eats ih'. .. an' den ya gots em' teeneh tineh lil' glasses as force meh ta has tuh reach daown in em with muh tongue, all gross-like-- If'n ya brings meh up sum grub in 'ere, uh can eats all proper like fer a change."
Awareness seemed to dawn on her about just how difficult it really must be for .... something... like him to try and dine in the dining hall, and maintain proper decorum. His needing a lot of food seemed quite apparent in hindsight-- he was ENORMOUS-- as did his apparent need for alternative table-ware-- Just look at his mouth? Of course he had trouble out there...
"I'll.... I'll have something sent up..." she said pensively, then ".. Anything else, Master Cedar?"
He stood there a moment, looking into the empty, and overly large room. The table in there was easily big enough to seat one of him, and four more humans besides, with a large "Stuffed chair" that could seat at least 3 humans sitting side by side comfortably, and number of plush arm chairs in addition to that.
"... Yeah.... Does.. .. When does you folks git ta eat?"
She sighed. It was probably best to tell him the truth.
"We dine after the work is completed, Master Cedar. If there is anything left over from the party, we may have some of it, but for the most part, what Their Highnesses, and their Guests are served, is not what we enjoy here at the castle."
His jaw dropped in shock. This was just... This was just unimaginable for him.
".. .. Le' me git dis straigh'..." he boggled, "Dey makes ya clean 'is 'ere dump FOUR TIME' A DAY, makes ya work an' sweat in 'at steamy arsed room at smell like sumbuddy dun peed on all da walls ta gits da clothes clean, Cook all da food, serve all da dranks, and takes cares ah all da gues's-- an' dey dun e'en le' yas has da good stuff?!"
It was an affront to every concept of moral decency he had, concerning how a guest should approach his or her host. It was UNSPEAKABLE to contemplate that he was being treated in such an elaborately special way, when the people giving that treatment, were treated much less well.
His thoughts dwelled on what the servant's corridors looked like, in stark comparison to the elaborate and decorated halls outside, then made a nasty face.
"Naw! Naw naw naw! 'At won' do a'tall!" he scowled. "Ya goes daown tuh duh kitchens, an' picks out what ya wants, an' brings ih all up 'eres, 'long with muh own dinnar, an' sits an enjoys it wit meh, ya hears?! All a ya, ya all welcome-- Bring meh up a helpin', an' serve ya self while ya at it! Uh insist!"
She looked positively stunned, almost as if he had asked her to join him in the bed-- though, perhaps not quite that scandalous.
"That... That is decidedly improper, Master Cedar." she struggled to get out.
"uh dun care wat dem prissy dandehs think be proper-- Ya'all gittin' a proper meal same as uh is, an uh'd consider it an insul' ifn' ya don'!"
A look of exasperated bewilderment bloomed over her face as if she had just seen him naked and straddling a towel while drying off.
"I.. I'll pass that along..." she croaked.
"Yous does 'at!" he crooned back "Naow hurreh on along-- Dun wan' at ol' ladeh wit' da spoon ta hit ya, does ya?"
She stammered, then made a jerky bow of dismissal, then practically ran away from his room down the corridor. He smiled to himself inwardly, then entered his room, and started straightening it up for guests.
