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Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar frowned.

He didn't have any real, solid plans. Nothing to do either, to take his mind off things. Normally, if he was in a bad mood, just "going to work"-- that is, going outside, and tending things needing tending, as he found them, would set everything right again. There was a simple pleasure in watching things grow, or in seeing the other animals happy and healthy.

Here in this misguided rubble-heap, the very plants decorating the grounds were planted in artificial plantings-- meticulously cared for. There was precisely NOTHING for him to do.

"Go tuh muh room, an' wait... mos' likely." he crooned dourly. "Ain't nuthin' ta do 'roun' 'ere."

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

As cedar was strolling through the foyer, and into the main hall, he caught sight of the elf woman, Jazdia, and the lovely miss Yvonne, --attractively roguish as ever, engaged in idle banter. He had missed the first part of their conversation, but it did not appear to have been going on for long.

"What's going on in the city? Sounds like there's a party out there." Yvonne had said, with a bit of bravado.

He stood and glared for a second, then processed what had been said-- She had said nothing about the death of the man he had seen earlier, and was simply reacting to the sounds of the "Elated" people outside. There was a chance she had not been infected with the contagious madness spreading around out there, that he so desperately wished to avoid.

"..Not muh idear uv a good time.." he growled irritably. "Em idjiots ou' 'ere dun pull some fellar apart fer reason's I cain't unnerstand, an' is all hootin' and hollerin' like it the bes' thang they ever sawr. .. Bes' steer clear a crazy fuckers like 'at, ya ask me..."

He muttered under his breath.

".....Jus wanned some dayum clothes...."

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Neither of them really had a firm grasp of the time they stood there, awkwardly looking at each other. From an outside perspective, Cedar was just slumped against the wall, forlornly gazing at the horse, and the horse was simply standing in its stall, confusedly looking back at him. Both of them flicking their ears, or making other unconscious expressions from time to time. No talking. No other kinds of vocalizations. No movements to speak of.

A human might have wondered what was going on there. Why the bear didn't at least try to pet the horse, or talk at it, or give it treats. SOMETHING. No-- He was just leaning against the wall, staring forlornly at the damn thing-- and it in turn, just kept right on looking confusedly back at him.

In fact, that is exactly what the terrified groomsman was doing, every time he took a furtive look back inside the stables, and up from his work, which he had busied himself with in nervous occupation. The demeanor of the bearman had changed PRONOUNCEDLY from the jovial oddity he had been the night before, and into .... Something altogether fearsome and otherworldly. What *WAS* that creature even *DOING* in there!? He just kept sitting there, leaning against the wall, looking at the horse!

He spat on the polishing rag, then rubbed it in the small tin of saddle soap, and continued cleaning and polishing the leather, keeping it supple and smooth and in good order. It was the prince's hunting saddle, and with the young master back, it needed to be ready to go and in top shape in a moment's notice. There was no way to ever know when it might be needed-- and he was not about to be caught with it in disarray. He was tired and frazzled after being rousted in the night by the castle's watch to see to the animals the rag-tag group of motley agents had drug in. Some of the poor animals looked like they had suffered terrible abuse at some point-- one covered all over in a wash of white blotches, marring a beautiful roan coat. The skin was completely healed, but it spoke to the animal being horribly injured at some point. It sent a shiver down his spine. He hated to see horses treated so badly.

He looked back into the stable.

The bear was still there. Ignoring him completely. Almost in a trance maybe. Still leaning against the wall, doing fuck-all nothing. It was unnerving.

At least the bear wasn't hurting any of the animals in there, he thought to himself, before putting the saddle away. In the livery shed, he dug out the leather harness that the cart horses had been hitched with that prior night. It was by no means royal quality- Ordinary but serviceable. It too, was in need of a good cleaning. The leather felt a little dry from neglect. He gathered it up over both shoulders, then wandered back out to where he had left the tin of saddle soap, and the polishing rag, before situating the first of the collars on the sawhorse he used for these tasks and setting to work.

He looked down the access in the stables one last time, and noted with a bit of alarm, that the bearman was gone. He looked around worried for a moment, hoping that the scary beast of a man was not sneaking up on him to take a bite out of him-- but he was nowhere to be seen.

The mustachioed man heaved a deep breath, and felt 20 years older. He dipped the cloth in the tin, and set to work on the leather, a bit more at ease. The horses were unharmed, and so was he. The scary bearman was gone, and with luck, the day would return to normalcy....

----

Cedar felt a little bit better. The horse was actually rather pleasant, all things considered. They had 'discussed', or rather 'shared', a great many things in the time the two of them had spent with locked together thoughts and feelings. It had been even more confused about the human's behavior and even less capable of comprehension that he had been, but the experience had taken the edge off, regardless. He no longer felt like a bear with steel trap on his foot, at the very least-- no longer intrinsically trapped by his own mind, whipping him with painful memories. Things had take more pedestrian tracks-- Cedar had shared that at some point, the horse was supposed to be going home with him. The horse was not terribly pleased by this, but cedar was understanding. Forgiving and accepting, but quite serious. He had shared with the horse his reservations about it as well, wondering where exactly he would find a place to stable it, or find food for it to eat in the winter. He had wondered if there would be enough quality forage in the tower-meadow during the winter months, and the mental perception of that place bled over the connection unintentionally and lazily, causing a moment of excitement from the creature, followed by realization it would be alone there, and then subsequent return to quiet distress at the idea of traveling with cedar. Cedar confided that the horse would not actually, TRULY be alone unless it really wanted to be, (and that if it did, he would understand)-- it could come find him at his house-- another place who's awareness just bled through the link-- whenever it felt lonely, and they could 'just be' like they currently were (locked in the connection), for however long, or short it wanted. He was always open to visits from "Friends," of which he had several-- even more context of that bled over the connection-- A tatty looking old buck elk cedar had helped get unstuck from a fallen tree after its antlers got ensnared. Several deer that liked the blackberry brambles he planted. Wolves he shared fish with once. numerous others. All of them he counted as 'friends.' At home, he was never lonely, and if he was, he could go find his dad any time he wanted-- The old man LOVED to see him stop by, even if his mom was more reserved, and even displeased if he got too close to his little siblings with her around-- but that was normal and natural for a shebear to feel. He loved her anyway.

The horse, too, shared that it had made 'friends' since being brought to the stables. Images and smells of the other horses, and bits about how they behaved-- even the ones he had 'taken a fancy to', and would like very much to breed with-- drifted lazily through the connection, (making cedar blush a little under his fur and chuckle to himself), interspersed a few times by horses he himself remembered-- "Schnitzel" and "Extra Crispy" among them. Inwardly, cedar still felt worry for them, and wanted to continue caring for them, even though they were in as good health as he could put them in with magic alone. The idea that a giant bear would be able to, and even want, to do such a thing amused the horse immeasurably, and approval oozed through with it, even though the horse could not comprehend his motives. Cedar confided that he wished he had a barn built-- He would offer to take 'those two' along as well, to keep his new 'friend' company, garnering even more confused approval-- It would like that... .. Maybe Cedar could ask his dad for help with it-- He'd gladly pull in the logs needed to make a pole-barn...If it was nestled into the woods, and overgrown with bramble, it would even be warm, and protected from the wind and rain.. hidden from human sight...

and so it went-- lazily drifting between topics without real structure. Just a continual stream of two consciousnesses burbling around each other in any direction that had the least resistance at any one point. It had been extremely refreshing for Cedar, but he was still nowhere close to the answers he needed. He just felt a little better, knowing that not every creature in the world was a maelstrom of competing plots, or naked cruelty under a thin facade of sanity and control, like humans clearly were. That too, had burbled over the connection-- explanation and awareness of Cedar's mixed parentage- incredulity but agreement and acceptance of fact from the horse over the fact, after it snuffed at him, and recognized the hint of human his scent carried. Bewilderment and wonder that such a thing could happen-- curiosity what that's like, but rebounded by terror at the raging storm of human thoughts conspicuously herded into the corner of cedar's mind, but perceptible through the link. It felt wonder, but also sadness and sympathy for him-- having to live with ... THAT... inside him.

Eventually, he and the horse had nothing more to share that was in any way comprehensible by the other. There just wasn't anything more. Just awkward awareness of each other. He broke the link, then respectfully left the barn. He was glad the human stableman had decided to find someplace else to be for the moment, and availed himself of the opportunity to leave without saying anything... He'd probably scared that man so much that he needed new trousers-- though he didnt catch any scent of that being actual fact. Just a metaphorical depiction.

He was glad to have met his horse. He'd have to think long and hard about where and how he was going to keep it, but he was glad to have made the acquaintance.

Silently, he sauntered back to the castle proper, through the now daylit garden, enjoying the sun, and the beauty of the plants and flowers. He almost felt like himself again, when he made it to the giant wood and steel doors that sealed the palace. His heart sunk at the idea he would have to interact with people again so soon-- but in all likelihood, he would need to get one of them to help guide him through the rat-warren that this place was, and back to his room.

He stepped through the door, and into the foyer.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar was not feeling well. Physically, he was just fine, but emotionally-- mentally.. He was not well.

His thoughts kept returning to the memory of all those people.. Humans... So many humans... So many... More than he had ever seen at one time even, and every one of them-- all of them-- Jeering. Celebrating. Hooting and yelling in insane pleasure... At the gruesome death of a man who could not fight back, and who had already been defeated. Screamed with ecstasy as he was literally pulled apart by horses, who in all likelihood, had no idea what they were doing, and were probably terrified of the ordeal. A reality that just added another level of horror to what he had just observed.

And under all of it... What those people were... That's what his dad was. What half of he himself was. It terrified him. Worried him. Sickened him.

More-- He could not even comprehend how they could have such feelings-- but clearly-- all of them-- ALL OF THEM! they all had the same reaction, at the exact same time, the exact same way and yet... He did not.

He could not.

His thoughts retreated into memory, seeking an answer. It was back at home again; That same day he and his brother first heard the words "Bear-Fucker" and "Bastard Mongrel," and been told, brutally, what that meant by a score of cruel, and mean spirited children.

("Papi... Wut am I?")

He remembered asking that question to his father back then, tears streaming down the sides of his face, wetting the fur in dark patches. His voice wavering and high pitched with childhood.

("Whaddya mean, li'l wun?") his dad had asked, gentle, and soothing.

("... Wut.... AM ...I... Papi? .. I'm not wut you is papi.. I'm not! .. They tol' me I'm not!! ")

His voice had become lost in the feral mixed species-cries of a distraught child: A dissonant blend of a child's shrieking tears, with a bear cub's terrified and wounded calls.

It had taken several seconds for his father to answer, though his actions spoke more clearly. He had gathered him into his arms, held him tightly, and nuzzled the top of his head, while rocking him gently.

("You muh son... 'Ats wut you is... An' alwayz will beh...")

He thought the answer was a shitty answer then, but he lacked the language or experience to say it. He had just cried harder, while his father held him close.

It had been shortly after that, that he had asked about the things the kids had said about them-- he and his brother-- and what that meant about their mom and dad, and how they came to be. Why his dad was with their mom. Why they were here. Why they weren't like the other children. --Why they didn't live in the town.

He pushed the memory aside. He knew the answer to those questions, but he had unrelenting doubts about if his father... a full blooded human, like every other that had jeered out there in the streets.. Would he have jeered? Did he understand this terrible thing?... Did he feel such terrible things?... COULD he? What did he really mean, about "Leaving his humanity behind a long time ago?" If he wasn't human inside anymore, what was he?

What did that make he, himself?

He didn't have answers. --NEEDED answers.

That childhood voice echoed in his thoughts over and over.

(".. Papi... Wut am I?")

Angrily, he shoved the pain of those memories-- these feelings-- these doubts-- out of his mind. He didn't want anything to do with the kind of cruelty humans could inflict. It was one thing when a single human showed signs of such madness-- Even the old hunter had embarked on a singularly mad quest to kill his friend's killers, but that he could at least partially wrap his head around. Those people would simply go on to kill more people still, and ending them, made sense. The degree to which old Reinhold had taken to it did not-- but again, a single human losing its mind, was not hard to accept.

He had just seen an entire city, lose its mind. In unison.

That such violence; such perverse mentality could be inside each and every one of them, and come out all at once like that..

He wanted to be as far away from that madness right now as possible.

He hastened his pace, practically jogging to the stables. That was as likely a place as any to find this "Horse" he was supposed to have been awarded. Another mind-- Any other mind that wasn't a humans--- He needed to feel the comfort of thoughts he understood. Thoughts that were sensible, and sane. To feel that the world was still sane! Horses might not be the brightest creatures, but they weren't usually completely mad... Like the world outside the gates was.

His thoughts momentarily dwelled on the two sentries on the ramparts.

... Even inside the gates.

He hoped he did not have to speak to anyone. He DID NOT want to talk to humans right now, especially if they were continuing the madness.

At the rate he was moving, it didn't take long to reach his destination. In alarm and dismay, he sighted the heavy and bulky bodied, bearded and mustachioed man from the night before. He was busy fussing with an ornate looking saddle, cleaning and polishing the leather. Cedar did NOT want to talk to him, but knew he had to.

"Dis where dey keepin' our horses at?" he asked tersely and irritably.

The man looked up as if only just now realizing that a talking bear had walked up to, and greeted him.

"What?-- h... What?" the man stammered, first trying to process being spoken to by a bear, and then trying to process the question he had been asked. A look of dawning recollection crossed his bearded face, while Cedar scowled. He didn't have the energy to deal with this man being an ignorant, bigoted moron.

"DEH HORSES, DUMMY. Deh wunz we was awarded. Ya know-- By deh KING? Deh guy as own's 'is big arsed rockslide 'e call's a 'ouse? I'm 'ere ta see deh wun 'ats mine!"

The man blinked at the rudeness the bear was projecting at him, showing equal parts confusion, bewilderment, indignation, and anger as it collided with shock, awe, understanding, and fear.

"You--- You must be the one that has the BIG one..."

"Ya don' say..." Cedar scowled back at the man, mocking the stupidity of such an obvious question with acidic disdain and growing less patient by the second. He did NOT want to talk to this man-- ANY man.

"it... It's this way--- Last stall at the end....." blithered the man, rattled. Cedar ignored his mannerisms, and simply started striding into the livery, toward the indicated destination.

"You aren't going to... Eat it.. are you?"

The look cedar gave the man could have shattered glass, curdled milk, taken 10 years off a person's life, and withered flowers--- but all it really did was turn the man's face a languid pallor as all the blood drained from it in terror, before sending him clutching his chest as he scrambled back out of the livery, and out to where he had left the saddle he had been cleaning.

"GO AWAY!" he bellowed at the man angrily, then suddenly felt very sheepish. Even apologetic. This was not like him at all.

Just more proof he needed to be far away from humans right now.

He took a deep breath. Paused a moment, then walked more slowly toward the last stall at the end. Spooked and worried horses flared their nose at him and stamped hooves as he passed.

Finally, he came to the last stall on the end. Inside was a truly massive looking horse. A stud-horse, from the smell of it. It looked at him less worried, but with its ears back. It was more... Confident. Big as it was, it was less afraid of him, and for some reason, that made him feel better. It simply radiated an intent to kick the shit out of him, if he was stupid enough to go inside the stall. Cool and confident in its own ability to do so.

He looked around the livery's access run, before finding a rain barrel at the far end. He dumped it over, rolled it up just outside the stall, turned it open end down, then sat on it like a stool before leaning on the wall, looking the horse in its big, wary eyes.. Feeling his thoughts and its melt together in the way 'the connection' afforded.

It was a wonderful, and welcome experience-- the horse's wary bewilderment and naked confusion being so much better for him, than the cloying demands his active mind kept clawing at him with. The simplicity of this creature's thoughts was like cool water. It's alarm at the tempest raging just behind the thin veil he kept it at bay with-- welcome. Understandable. Wonderfully understandable.

He sat there for quite a long time. Just feeling. Feeling with his horse. Trying to make sense of the incomprehensible.. Right along beside it.

Together.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar looked out onto the crowd that had gathered from the relative safety of the castle's wall.

He had severe reservations about accepting 'payment' for what he hag done at Fanghorn. His ears went backward hard every time he looked at the case he had hidden away in his 'room' after that morning's meeting.

If Yvonne's reaction was any indication, he was supposed to be impressed and pleased by the contents.. to him it was just a bunch of heavy, lustrous metal abd some shiny rocks. ... where other people had lost homes, necessities of living.. family... friends...

To him, the gesture seemed obscene, but he deemed it unwise to state overtly. Humans could be inscrutably and singularly vicious when slighted.

It was that very incomprehensible violence that had his full, nervous attention this very moment.

He had intended to try and obtain something 'suitably large, and situationally appropriate' to wear today, after being promised a meal and a more private merting with the young boy's father. Given the prior night's events, he found that he disliked being disrobed inside the castle's grounds-- the staff had adopted a very unsettling way of looking at him that made him nervous, and the utilitarian fabric of his robes seemed .. under dressed.. even by what the servants were wearing. He didnt really enjoy the idea of buying the kibds of clothing the chamberlain had worn, but something of fine, tightspun linen was suitable, and could be put away and then used again on special occasions. Even his dad had a pair of 'town clothes'-- that's what he had initially set out to get, after the meeting had concluded.

But here he was, on the castle's rampart wall, overlooking the spectacle from a safe distance.

"Shame to miss it!" Joked one of the men-at-arms from his station on the wall. 'It's been almost a hundred years since the last one like this. People will be talking about it for a long time."

Cedar would just assume not see or hear, even from this far back.

The castle had a higher elevation from much of the town, and from the wall, one could see the city's center, its streets, and the colored rooftops of the buildings. All the people seemed small and blended together like blades of grass into a lawn, but he could hear the jeering. Could just make out the spectacle taking place.

He was at a loss for words, and said nothing. Just watched in silent horror, as events unfolded down there.

How could they do this to someone? Who even imagined such a practice? How could so many if them meet such a spectacle with .. ... excitement.

These past few days had him questioning himself on a deeply spiritual and emotional level. Was he really the same 'thing' as these complex, and truly terrible creatures? Was his father, ... the same as this?

He grappled with these thoughts and feelings in silence.

'What a sorry day to be on duty, eh?' Came a response from the sentry stationed at the next post down. The two gossiping away like two crows overlooking a fresh corpse from a treetop. 'maybe when we get off, we can get some of that beer?'

Beer. ... ... it brought back memories. Happier memories.

He remembered the first time he had ever drunk any. He had been in the late summer of his third year, and mostly grown, but still a child. His brother had already run away by then, and he had been very sad. He had gone with his dad to buy supplies in town-- 'gunna be growed up faster'n I 'spected' his dad had drawled lovingly, giving him a warm hug from the side, and a playful shoulder punch. 'Whatya gunna do when ya has yer own place, uh Cedar?'

It had been the actual reason for this trip to town. He actually hated being in the village. All the people talked furtively behind their backs, seemed hesitant to do business with them. When he was younger, their children openly mocked his dad in front of him and his brother. The words hurt. The way he and his dad got treated in town hurt. He hated this place, but it was the only way to get certain items. Stewpots. Shovels. Saws. Pickaxes. Hammers. Nails. The things one needed to make a house. 'Ohhh, don't be so judgemental.' His dad had chided him. 'People's kin be right arses. Crueler 'an January-- but dey ain't all bad.'

It had been then, coming back from the shopping, where he and his dad had sold reagents to the apothecary; regular staples from the forest and the tower meadow used to make hot selling items, like liniment rubs, cough medicine, fever reducers. That sort of thing. The coin they had gotten seemed trivial on reflection, given the volume of the sale, but his dad had been jovial, and polite. The shop owner had eyed him suspiciously, then asked if they had seen Oak yet. His brother had been taken in by the blacksmith the year before, and had been a quick study, shaping plows and horse shoes at a rate of mastery that apparently drew worried attention from the townsfolk. That, and how quickly the two of them were growing. That seemed to always be a nagging concern of theirs. That, and how much they ate.

Now, coming back from having placed the order for ironwork at the smithy, and paying in advance, his dad had politely addressed his sullen mood. Oak had NOT been happy to see their dad, and had fallen further into the seething hatred for him that cedar failed to share or comprehend. It troubled him how perniciously contagious such disdain, even hate, could be. He missed his brother terribly, but his brother did not seem to miss him-- or their father.

"He don' unner'stan'" his dad had tried to explain. 'Buh I'll tells ya anuhway. I luvz you boys. Botha ya. He dun growed up afore his body dun did, but I still gunna care fer 'm muh own way, e'en naow. Ya knows all em plants weh sol'? Mosta 'at money gone ta dat nice smith lady. She knowed what I really doin. You gunna be growed up all da way nex' year pro'lly, same as he is. I doin' muh bes' ta care fer ya both, no ma'er what. That money gunna buy him's food, an' it gunna give 'im work ta do. You gunna git whatcha need ta be ya own man, wit a house a ya own. Nex' sprang, Mama prolly gunna kick ya out-- but dun worry none, I gotcha. Buht naow... heheh.. ya ol' e'nuff ta has a bit a fun wit ya ol' man! Le'ss go git some beer!'

He still remembers the way it tasted, that very first time, with the amused criticisms of the other patrons of the inn that doubled, and mostly served as, the village public house. His dad had assured the owner, a man his dad had prior dealings with, clearly, that they wouldn't need rooms, just big mugs to drink with, and the darkest stuff they had in the house, because his boy was mostly grown, and needed to learn what it was to be a man, which had gotten several approving jeers from the local regulars.

It had been a very memorable, and pleasurable night. It was the most he had ever felt accepted in the village, and the drunkards seemed to forget that he was half-bear, ... and what that meant about his father. They even asked when Oak would pay a visit....

Beer... even today, it held a special significance. Good times had with his dad. The acceptance only drunkenness seemed to bring out in people. The rich taste of the beverage itself, and the warm feelings it left inside. It was possibly one of the finest of human inventions, but it could also be among the worst, if you over-indulged. The stolen evenings when his dad would knock on his door, and ask if he wanted to go drinking, were some of the best in his life. He loved his dad, and he had come to love beer.

His thoughts returned to the jeering mass of people below. They were doing something he didn't understand. His vision wasn't as good as a full human's was, at least for distance anyway, and he struggled and squinted to make out what was happening. It LOOKED like they had brought out horses, and were...

'Look at 'em go! Whooo!' Jeered the first sentry.

'Tug! Tug! Tug!' Chanted the second.

Realization of what was going on down there dawned on him, and he became ill to his stomach, and to his soul, as he saw the horses suddenly lurch, and heard the jeering of crowd rise in crescendo.

Was this... THIS.. really the other half of what he was? What WAS he, really? He felt absolutely no pleasure from this, only mortified confusion, and disgust.

Was this what his father had meant, way back then?

The blissful revery of memory wrapped him again. It had been after his and Oak's first visit to the village. His dad had taken them 'to get tested', toward the end of their second year. It had been the first time either of them had seen other humans, besides their dad, and the first time they had seen other children. Naturally, they had wanted to play, and their dad had indulged them. ... it had gone very poorly.

It was after taking him and his brother home, both of them crying from the mean things the other children had said, and the heated argument his father had gotten into with the other humans, that he had, for the first time, questioned what he was, and why they lived apart from all the other humans. Why his dad lived with their mom, and not in the town.

His dad had become distant, and told him matter of factly, that it was because he had abandoned 'being human' a long time ago, and he no longer felt at ease among them, but did with the two of them, and their mother, and that he was sorry for what had happened in town. His brother was never the same after that. And he and dad grew more distant, while dad's hugs and praise had been a source of strength for himself.

Maybe ... maybe it was things like this, that had made his father leave, and live in the woods..

Abruptly, he stood up, and away from the castellation of the wall, and headed down the stairs. He had seen enough, and didn't want human company right now.

The chamberlain had mentioned he would be getting a horse... he wondered what that meant. No horses he had ever met were really big enough for him besides draft horses for pulling a plow, or a big heavy cart full of wood or produce...

Where would he even KEEP it?...

While equally distressing, it was at least a far better occupation of his mind than ... what was going on in town.

He set off to go meet this 'horse' of his.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

The chambermaid clucked an amused chuckle, then motioned for her charge to follow her back down the hallway, taking an entirely different path this time. Respectfully, Cedar closed the door to "his quarters" behind him, as they set off.

"The laundry is in the servant's quarter." said the maid matter-of-factly. "Through the Eastern service hall, then down the stair. There's a seep-spring fed from the garden above that feeds the laundry, so there's always a trickle of water. Useful in the winter, when everything's froze over."

He nodded in appreciation-- it was indeed a clever idea, though he himself never had need to do laundry in the winter months, his dad did, and he had been regaled numerous times about how "Complete and total horseshit" it was to "Haul buckets of freezing cold water through the snow" just to "get your underwear clean." (or to have to boil that much water, and or, melt that much snow or ice, to do it with.) Sadly, a seep spring underneath the house would be "wholly incompatible" with having a den under there. --A most unfortunate fact of ursine existence.

Going through one of the smaller doors, that was built and designed in such a way as to not draw attention to its presence (as he had come to learn ALL of the service access ways were), the grand and high ceilings of the hallways suddenly became cramped, and almost squalid in comparison. The contrast was shocking; Guests were never meant to go through here.

After a few attempts at staying upright and crouching to avoid dragging his head on the ceiling, he apologized to the woman leading him, then resorted to walking on all fours, much like he had been forced to do in the access ramp in the cellars at Fanghorn keep just hours prior.

"probably for the best" the woman quipped. "The stairwell is lower yet than the halls. You'd hit your head for sure, master Cedar. This way."

This was not his first time in the service corridors of the castle, but every time he had been through one, it had been a different place each time. This time was no exception, and he found he could not keep track of the twisted maze of corridors and stairs. Without the maid leading him, he could get lost for days in this place.

In time, the hall crossed two others, then down a rampway, then went past a set of unappealing stone steps next to a large, square wooden door.

"That is the stair to the laundry." the woman said, indicating the entryway. Cedar sniffed at the large square hatch, trying to identify its purpose. It had.. a large number of human smells all over it.. More than easily discernible. The woman seemed a bit cross at his hesitation, before grasping that he was confused by the laundry chute. "--That is for dropping soiled linens to the laundry." she said. "Unless you want a hard stop at the bottom, I suggest you not be too curious about it, Master Cedar. Please follow me."

As the pair descended the very narrow stairwell, the ceiling was indeed, very short. He could NEVER have stood upright when using it, and in honesty, had a fair bit of difficulty descending it. It was steep, and narrow, and if he was even just a bit wider, he may well have become lodged between the doorframe. This stair was meant for humans, and no added expense had been taken in its construction. The stone steps had worn divots in them from what was surely many many years of hard service. People had been using this stairwell for a VERY long time. A noticeable, and continuous swath of each wall was worn smooth where hands had touched it for support over its lifetime, further speaking of its ancient-ness. At the bottom, was yet another narrow constriction where the stone masonry let out into the laundry below.

"Good Evening Agnes." the maid called somewhat loudly. There was a cacophony of loud women's voices, the sounds of wet sloshing, repeated loud slaps, and an oppressive reek of ammonia in the laundry. Over the din, a loud and deep woman's voice boomed orders.

"Mind the silks Jamie, If you scrub them you'll ruin them-- Just let it sit--- DO NOT USE HOT WATER on that Candice-- you'll set the stain-- -- Oh-- Hello Melody, what brings you down to our little pit of despair?"

'Melody' was just about to introduce her 'guest', who had followed her down into the lamplit and humid laundry room, and was squeezing through the tight constriction of the doorway when a woman bumped into him carrying a load of soiled undershirts and frocks, then shrieked profoundly when she noticed 'what' she had run into.

"Th.. THERE'S A BEAR IN THE LAUNDRY!" she cried in a shrill, high pitched wail, dropping her burdens, then skidding backward away from the stairwell on her butt in dismay.

"Quickly Melody, Over here behind me-- I'll deal with it!" bellowed the woman who he assumed was 'Agnes'-- a burly, almost manish looking boulder of a woman who rippled with muscled arms and calves, with a wide face and jaw dressed in servant's livery hiked up around the knees and pulled back around the shoulders. Her apron and dress were saturated with moisture, and she reeked of ammonia. She had a rather imposing looking wooden paddle in her hands that she picked up without hesitation as she commenced closing in on the stair. Trapped in the doorway as he was, there would be no way to evade the woman's assault, if she followed through with her obvious plans to use the laundry bat on him.

"Agnes, STOP!" the maid pleaded, throwing herself in the way of the imposing woman. "This is a GUEST."

The activity of the laundry had come to a screeching halt with his arrival, and he felt a multitude of stares beating down on him. He contemplated if it was prudent to try backing up and withdrawing up the steep narrow stair behind him (as there was certainly NOT enough room to turn around, and he was still stuck halfway through the narrow 'door'.)

"THAT'S a GUEST?!" came the incredulous voice of an unnamed woman among the number, someplace out of Cedar's line of sight.

"So, Let me get this straight Melody-- You not only bring a 'GUEST' into the laundry, but a BEAR at that? What ARE you thinking?!" came another.

"... Perhaps dis be a bad idear..." he drawled mostly to himself, while struggling to determine what the proper strategy for this situation was. ".. I... I thinks I shud be goin'..."

"Oh my GOD! IT CAN TALK!"

---"I had heard rumors..."
...".. Is it really true they had a talking bear up there three days ago?"
"IMPOSSIBLE."

"SILENCE" bellowed Agnes, stifling the furtive and naked gossip. "Explain yourself, Melody. Make it good."

"This is Master Cedar." she said coolly and forcefully, still blocking further movement toward the stair behind her. "He is one of the 'people' that were involved in 'that matter we are not to discuss.'"

"Which one Melody, we haven't got all night." said Agnes crossly, now folding her huge and muscled arms over her square and blocky frame. Cedar made note that there must be a fair number of 'things not to discuss' in this place; a concept that gave him worried pause. What manner of secrets and plots were hatched in this huge house?

"The one involving the young master, of course, or did your slip and hit your head on the scalding pot again since two days ago? SURELY you heard---"

The imposing woman frowned and tightened her grip about her bustline menacingly, clenching her jaw as color stained her square cheekbones.

"--And why is he here?" she demanded.

"--He needs a bath--" she said flatly "--and his clothes washed." She held out his soiled robe like it was something that should have been clearly self-evident. "He says he is every bit as dirty as that-- and I have no reason to question him on it-- UNLESS OF COURSE, you WANT to do a Grand Laundry on the Huntsman's green-room on the Eastern wing?"

("it wears clothes?")
----("They're keeping it indoors?")
-("I for once actually feel sorry for the chamber-girls.")

"SHUSH."

Agnes leaned to the side, then uncrossed her arms to lean on the laundry bat to look around Melody, who was still blocking the ingress to the laundry, before leaning forward and taking the horribly soiled garment, and examining it, making a disgusted face, then addressing cedar directly.

"What were you doing to get this dirty, 'Master Cedar?'-- Nevermind-- Get in here, let's have a look at you."

He hesitated a moment, then very carefully twisted to one side, then the other to get his bottom through the narrow constriction, before turning, leaning on the stonework of the door, and standing upright. The laundry at least, had a high ceiling to control the dampness. After a moment, he turned, and carefully walked into the room and toward the large and imposing woman with more than a fair share of trepidation, taking in the previously obscured visages of more than a dozen similarly muscular women wielding large laundry bats. All eyes in the room were on him, and he felt more naked than ever. He and the woman exchanged eye contact for several seconds, her face an inscrutable mask of weighted calculation. Abruptly, she smirked, chuckled, then addressed one of her nearby staff.

"Back to work girls-- The washing wont wash itself!" She turned back to Cedar. "And you-- I assume you, at least CAN?"

"Y.. Yeah, I can." he stammered nervously, still eyeing about the room as the scary women resumed their work, beating on laundry, and gossiping a bit more furtively.

"GOOD! You-- Get him some soap and take him to the Rinse. If the head-maid finds out about this, it'll be all our heads. Be quick about it. Melody, we need to talk."

One of the laundresses dropped her bat against the wall, grabbed up a large yellow bar of lye soap, then pointed in the direction that must lead to 'the rinse.' She had a worried expression as though she was very unsure of this sudden change in her occupation, and did not seem at all eager to lead him deeper into the laundry. Others kept him fixed in their gaze, as they continued their dipping, squeezing, beating and scrubbing. He followed her through the large room to a place where the water collected and then fed out of the laundry through a large grate in the floor. A steady stream of water trickled over the side of a large cistern to join the flow. Several more laundresses were there, dunking clothes into the water then wringing them out again. "You three, out-- Agnes said. You- In." She handed him the block of soap, and pointed toward the cistern. The far wall was old and discolored, with a steady trickle of water running down it, and into the cistern, keeping it constantly fed, and flowing. The laundry women collected their burdens with confused looks, alternating between his 'guide', himself, and their business, as they hurriedly collected the washing they were rinsing out, then sploshing out of the cistern. At no time did the feeling of being studiously watched ever stop. At least 'the rinse' was in a tucked away portion of the laundry near the back, but he had a clear view of the rest of the laundry from there, and the converse was equally true.

He accepted the soap, then nodded understanding to the woman, before entering the cistern, sitting down in the water to get himself wet all over, then starting the process of lathering himself up to get clean. He was not really keen the ever-present sensation of being watched, however. She heaved a sigh of relief, then resumed her own duties among the throngs of women, quickly being lost in the jumble.

"...Better jus git dis over wit..." he muttered to himself before standing, leaning against the wall, and lathering himself up from head to foot. The suds were a profound brown color from the dried dirt stuck to his skin. It would take several washings to get actually clean. He contemplated if it would have been wiser to wait for "his basin" in the privacy of that overly large room, but the thought of getting this dirt on the plush cream carpeting in there, told him it would not have been appropriate to have done.

At the other end of the laundry, Agnes and Melody were deep in their discussion of the interruption to the laundry, and the entirely inappropriate nature of taking a guest into the servants quarter.

"--Olivia and Hudson are at logger-heads, Agnes. Hudson wants to drag in an old winepress to use as a bathtub, given the.. Proportions.. of our guest, and the old biddy will have nothing of the sort. You should have SEEN her face when the butler told her where he was going to be staying. He'd have been waiting a week, at least, to have his bath. Can you imagine what a week of his sleeping on the duvet in his current state would have done? -- Something HAD to be done Agnes."

"Bringing a guest, no matter how unusual, into the laundry is forbidden, Melody. We have ENOUGH problems trying to deflect certain.. Accusations.. about me and my staff down here from those harpies upstairs already, we do NOT need this."

She looked up and toward the rinse. The bearman was leaned against the wall, leaning down in a rhythmic cycle of washing and scrubbing on himself. The water and soap had flattened his fur, revealing that he was not at all what one would expect from a bear underneath, but also not exactly man-shaped either. He was some eye-wrenching admixture of the two, with a long torso and chest, combined with short, thickly muscled and oddly human-like arms and legs,heavy wide shoulders coming to a thick knot in his back, and a powerful looking wide bottom featuring a prominent nub of a tail, among other anatomical features that, minus the concealing fluff of the fur, were now prominently on display. Her cheeks colored indignantly. They would be gossiping about this for WEEKS. The implications of such talk were scandalous. He practically rippled while washing himself.

"STOP GAWKING." she barked. "IF YOU'VE SEEN ONE, YOU'VE SEEN THEM ALL." Dirty giggles and snickers met her stern directive, and she sighed. This was insufferable. Silver linings-- Yes, at least he did not need any help getting cleaned. At least that insult to the dignity of she and her staff had been avoided.

"I'm sorry Agnes, I really am." pleaded Melody. The look of a woman caught between a rock and a hard place plastered her otherwise prim, and proper face. "I wouldn't have brought him down here if I felt there was really an alternative. What would you have me do? Take him to the fountain outside? Have him dirty up a months worth of clean linens, just because Olivia cant pull her head out of her own ass? You tell ME what I should have done different, Agnes. You and I both know that sometimes, things just need to get done."

The huge woman leaned against her washing bat with one arm, then cradled her head with the other. She suddenly felt very tired. As much as she hated to admit it, Melody was 100% right. She looked back down toward the rinse. The bearman had dunked himself back into the cistern, and had started lathering a second time. She shivered; this was incredulous. Might as well have brought a burly, naked man down here. How many times was he going to wash? Silver linings-- At least he was being thorough. Yes. There was that. There would not be a sudden increase in laundry tasks with heavily soiled sheets or carpets.

Exasperated, she returned to her duty, directing the laundry's activities.

--

It took three passes with the soap to finally get properly clean lather. Cedar had never felt more naked in his life, and was very eager to get the hell out of here, as soon as possible. The feeling of eyes all over him was relentless. Taking a final plunge into the now dingy brown cistern water, he rinsed the last charge of soap from himself, stood back up a final time, leaned against the wall then shook the water free, relieved to feel his fur poof back out again. He looked down at the edge of the cistern, and noted that it had a metal flood gate built into it. Politely, he raised the gate, and the dirty water rushed out, then down the gullet of the iron grating, before timidly toddling back up to where Melody and Agnes were standing.

"About time." scoffed the heavyset woman. "Melody, get him upstairs, quickly, before anyone else sees. You there-- go rinse out the cistern, we're behind as it is."

He gave his chaperone a wide eyed and plaintive expression of unease. He was VERY eager to be out of here.

"This way Master Cedar." she said stiffly. "We apologize for the circumstances, and hope you wont hold it against us."

He shivered, but did his best anyway to soothe her clearly shot nerves. "Dun wurry 'bout it. A' leas' I's clean naow. At all I really wan'ed. ---Af'er you, ma'am." and with that, the two disappeared back out of the laundry, and back up the stairs.

"Did you have a look at that!?" said one of the washer-women incredulously after they had left earshot. "Would you have ever guessed that was under there?"

"I'm QUITE SURE that was not a BEAR at all!"

"HUSH!" bellowed Agnes, her head starting to throb. This was a miserable end to a long day indeed.

"He was positively FILTHY!" came a voice from the far end of the laundry. "There's dirt stuck to the floor!"
"Just like YOUR husband, Melissa-- Hair and all!"
"SHUT YOUR FACE, TIFFANY, What are you doing looking at my husband anyway!?"

"I SAID SHUT IT!" bellowed Agnes. Oh gods, the rumors were going to be thick as fleas. By noon tomorrow, every servant in the building would know what that poor bear keeps in his trousers.

--

Melody led Cedar back up the stairs and back the way they came, completely uneventfully, and parted ways as soon as he was safely obscured within the excessively ornate room.

"Your clothing will be brought up as soon as it is cleaned and pressed, Master Cedar. Until then, please remain here, and enjoy yourself, and enjoy our hospitality this evening." she said, bobbing a curtsy before departing. That had been some time ago. A gentle ticking sound emanated from a strange wood and metal box with numbers and two completely unusual metal blades at bizarre angles on it. He had no idea what its purpose was. It was just one of many such oddities in the room; It was a completely alien environment, and he found it next to impossible to relax. He felt trapped inside it. This was a madhouse.

His fur was still a bit damp, and he was still unsure of how to use the bed. He walked to the large window and looked out into the darkness. Someplace out there was his cozy hovel, with its bedstraw mattress, and cozy bed of leaves concealed below. Someplace out there was the familiar world he knew, with wolves, owls, and rabbits in it. He'd have paid handsomely to be there instead of here. Exhaustion wracked his head, and he yawned.

He felt he'd had his fill of human company for one day.

He knew about what oil lamps were, at least, and he turned the wick down, raised the mantle, and puffed it out. Curls of smoke drifted up where the yellow flame had once been.

In desperation, he climbed into the bed, and tried to get comfortable.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

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.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"ooh-- Ya in fer a treat!" tittered the bear, as he slid off the end of the bench, scooped up the bag over his shoulder, then gently took the saucer of butter and small condiment dish of minced garlic (along with the spoon it contained), and playfully swayed as he walked over to the fireplace.

"Pardon meh Ma'am!" he said jovially to Jazdia, working around her while setting the dishes on the mantle temporarily while he worked with the bread, tearing some of the nicer looking baguette loaves down their center, then dressing them with the condiments with care, before placing them on the wrought iron log rack that held the logs safely within the fire pit; Just close enough that the heat of the embers would be sufficient to toast the bread, if monitored carefully, but not so close as to get ashes on them, or to fall into the fire.

After a few minutes, he fished them out again. He tore a generous slab free of one of the toasted baguettes and offered it to her, but she politely declined. 'Full of pirozhki' she explained politely. Unphased, he offered the same slab to the Baker, who smirked, but graciously accepted the morsel, before he returned to the table, and started handing out slabs of the prepared treat.

"'Ere ya go, li'll fella." he said with a smile, handing the hot treat to the prince, before moving down the line. "An' you too ma'am" he said to Matilda, continuing the procession down the table.

Soon everyone who wanted a piece had taken one, and he returned to his perch at the table with the remainder, where he sat it down, then returned to the fireplace to collect the dishes for their return to the Baker, before finally returning to his seat.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar smiled with amusement and satisfaction.

"Naww-- All thangs bein' equal, I'd go offer like ya says, but at door dun closed. All 'a us gots ta stay righ' 'ere, (wit' you), until we gits ya home. Ain't no 'mount a bread wort' 'at kinda risk. S'like muh poppy tol' meh, 'oppurtun'ty only knock onced.' "

He perked up and smiled pleasantly-- just the faintest bit of teeth showing.

"Naow, wut's dis 'bout ne'er havin' ol' bread? Ya family not e't it, like mine er summat? Hell-- E'en 'en, I's 'as had ol' bread afore. At's silly talk. Ain't nuttin' special naow, but it ain't all at bad ei'er, --when done up righ' at is. Takes fer instance, ya heats it up in da oven, after yas cuts it in half, and slathers it wit' butter 'n mushed up garlic. Mmmm.. Good stuff. oooh! Or yas soaks it in eggs 'n milk, and bakes it wit' honey. Mmmm. at's good tuh.. Heck, jus' a bit ago, me an a nice ol' fellar from taown wuz eatin' it wit' some nice hot soup-- Sadleh, we dun e't all da soup.... But I bets da baker fellar here gots butter 'n garlic. Dun hurt ta ask--"

He beamed excitedly like a child, then whipped his head around (the other way, away from the prince) to catch sight of the baker.

"I dun wanna be a pest, but could we gits sum butter 'n minced garlic, Mr Baker? Won't ask fer nutin' else, promise!"

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"Yes, what was that all about, Mr Bear?" asked the prince, with a somewhat concerned expression.

"Oh, Ain't nut'in all 'AT serious!" he cat called back at Yvonne, before realizing how foolish, or worse, 'behaviorally unstable', he must have just looked. He cast his head down a bit, then muttered a sheepish response to the prince.

"S.. sorreh. I tries suh hard tuh always does deh right thang.. sumtimes I dunno what's deh right thang tuh do. Sumthin' big like meh, peoples often 'lookin' fer sum reas'n tuh boot meh out deh door, ya knows?... 'Em folks.. Dey dun seem da quickest, ya asks me.. but lossa people dun think 'at 'bout muhself, ya know? -- 'ey jus' wan'ed sum bread, like any odder custom'r would... So dey came a bit late?-- So'd I-- Baker sol' me a big ol' bag a bread. Why I any bett'r 'an dey is? Just acause I gots 'ere firs? Ask'd nicer mebbeh? 'At ain't right, now is it? But 'en, if'n I gives 'em sum, dis here be da baker's place! What it say, I given em folks da baker's own bread, in is own damn house, fer free? Ya dig? Some folks'd say I should jus' not care, but at aint da way it is... I cares 'bout evry-buddy, e'en peoples as 'a bit slow on deh uptake', ya unnerstand? An on toppa dat-- My poppa taught meh tuh not be stingy, an' shares what I gots, cause livin' hard fer everybody."

He made a sheepish smile then flicked his ears.

"Lissn' tuh me.. Prattlin' on. Talk'd moar tuday an I norm'lly does in a month."

His head swung just a little toward, and down, toward the prince sitting next to him.

"How 'bout you, li'll fellar? You e'er get dumbstruck by no-win sit'yations?--What yer homelife like? (but keeps discreet, 'cause we in public.)--Say? Ya wan' sum bread? Likes uh said-- got sum lef'!"

His eyes practically sparkled with the offer, while patting the coarse vegetable sack just behind him with a free paw.