wierdw

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

Mrs. York instinctively gravitated beside her husband, as the candor in the room intensified. A truly foolish reporter was asking loaded questions that could well send some-one to the dungeons for a 'cross-examination', and the clan patriarch of house Delving had traded a dangerous stare with their host, culminating in a rather frosty and multi-entendre 'toast' being proposed, and accepted. She raised her cup ceremoniously, and drank, then leaned in close beside him.

"Thomas Darling, are you certain it was wise to attend this soiree?" she asked in a demure and hushed tone, while seated at the table. Normally, she'd reserve this kind of idle chatter for when they were on the dance-floor, but as yet, no music had been started.

He chuckled in an amused tone, then grasped her left hand beneath the table with his right. "Adela my love, you worry too much. His Majesty is sure to enjoy our proposal, once we can speak in private." He turned is head to face hers with an expression full of well-practiced political charm. "and you know what that means."

She gripped his hand in hers tightly beneath the table, but made no further signs above it. Yes, She DID know what that meant. As it was, a war between Kindeance and.. well.. ANY other nation, would throw their family's finances into chaos. Her husband had formulated a plan to bring the York family into the next century, with an ambitious plan to renovate and bolster the nation's industrial capacity, through leveraging recent events to push back against decades of resistance from the local populace. The recent destruction of Fanghorn mean that reconstruction of that city-- and of it's agricultural basin, from what she had heard-- would become a political necessity, and that left opportunities for those that knew how to get access and exploit them. She squeezed his fingers between hers, and smiled beautifully-- Her husband knew just how to do both.

The York family were reputable spice merchants; risen to prominence in the tide of His Majesty's pro-business politics, and satisfying thousands of customers in the city of Rascade alone, and catapulting them into wealth and luxury over the past 4 decades. She was a lady of refinement, and was accustomed to a certain degree of.. luxury. However lucrative the spice trade was in peacetime however, it would dry up and blow away if the nation went to war: Shipments would get impounded at borders, Borders would simply close, ships would be sunk at sea, and over and through it all, there would be dizzying spirals of increased taxation to pay for it all. If nothing was done, and the nation went to war, she would be wearing rags in less than a year. The thought terrified her, but she knew and trusted her husband, her Thomas.

He was a somewhat portly man, with well groomed hair, beard and sideburns, given to sampling spiced cakes and wines to assure the quality of their products, and it had started to show on his physique-- but he was a charmer. Oh yes, a charmer. That man could spin a deal out of the most ephemeral of meetings, and here he was tonight, with ambitions to meet with King Fredericus himself--No intermediaries. She hoped his plan was successful. For all of their sakes.

Beside them, on either side, were seated their two children. The lovely Linceleste to Thomas's left, and her handsome young Gepard, to her right. Linceleste took after her; though perhaps a bit more bookish in her mannerisms than is healthy for a young girl just turned 16. She got that] from her father, but it had served her well enough, getting her a fine placement at a prestigious magical academy. Thomas had been discretely indulging her for years, creating opportunities for her to practice her 'hobby', and perhaps one day, spin it into a lucrative branch of the York brand of products. There was a similar story with Gepard, though she liked that line of work far less. She was glad he was safely here, with them, tonight. She hoped he would make a good impression, for his sake, and theirs. Soldiering was honest work, but it didn't 'pay the bills', as her husband would say.

She diverted to idle small talk.

"I see his majesty has found most peculiar bodyguards for the young prince Alec..." she murmured coyly. "..Stritzel seems to approve at least..."

"Perhaps we could suggest a nice perfume for his linen closet; however finely dressed, he's sure to scent the sheets." he murmured back with a coy grin. "Perhaps something in musk.."

She withdrew her hand and smiled coyly. He was such a kidder, but she didn't put it past her husband to make a sale like that either. Tonight was poised to be very profitable for the house of York indeed, if all of them played their cards right, their children included.

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

Cedar grinned eagerly (and with a fair bit of mischief behind it), then loaded a full mug with a pouring of the mead, leaving room for 2 fingers of the spiced rum, then proffered to the doctor.

"here ya go!" he beamed, then loaded his own mug up with the same mix, sitting across from him, Yvonne, and the maid; Jeanie. "Sos-- Les' git ta know each odder beh'er, eh?"

He focused his attention on Jeanie. "How's 'bout yous? What it like, workin' 'ere?"

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

Cedar made a slantwise scowl, while twisting his lips to one side (which was a rather unusual expression to see on a bear), then chided the good Doctor--

"Come on naow-- We jus' havin' a bit a harmless fun! Ain't we 'Vonnie? Asides, a few mugs a ale *IS* a good meal! Fatten ya righ' up doin' 'at!"

he made a jovial slap on his (now very firm, and slimly muscled) belly.

"BES' PART, is dat it don' leave ya full fer hours neither! An wuts 'at 'bout ya thinks uh won' fit in da loo? What you goin' on 'baout-- Ya mean DA OUTHOUSE? Shucks fella--- Who you think you talkin' tuh! I's a BEAR, I goes outside!" he chortled bemusedly, then padded the bench next to him. "Naow c'mon an' sit daown, an' be soc'ible! I'll pours ya a drink!"

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

"Oh, It'll beh FUUN!" drawled the bear with a happy smile. "Sumbuddy complain, dey kin takes it up wit us! Naow-- What-- outta all-a DIS-- does ya thank a big scarry bear like meh shoul' try nex', HMM?"

He gave the maid a playful bump with his butt, then collected one of the mugs that Yvonne had indicated.

"We gots ALL AF'RNOON!"

He replaced the small wooden keg back on its stand, then resumed sniffing the room, coming next to a clear glass bottle with a very fancy label he couldn't properly read-- The letters were very fancy looking and hard to discern from the patterning of the label's woodcut imagery. It smelled like expensive spices, and reminded him of sweet-cakes that the innkeeper back in Mystville sometimes served on special occasions. He got a cheeky smile, then broke the wax seal, and poured a shot.

Drinking from a mug was not something he could do 'politely,' so he covered his face and the top of the mug, as he stuck his snout inside, and gave it a discrete lick, getting booze on the top of his nose in the process, sending it burning. It was profoundly flavored of cardamom and cloves, with a hint of black pepper, but also subtly sweet. If it weren't for the burning of his nose causing his eyes to water, he would consider it another favorite.

"Hooooooo DAYUM... WOOooo!" [*SNORT*]

He spun his head around to see Yvonne, who was pointing and laughing at him.

"forget what ya sees, just tell it tuh me straight naow-- What is dis shit?! i's GREAT!"

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

Cedar followed the elf-woman's directions to the letter, eventually letting out into a humidity controlled, and cool room lined with barrels that let off heavenly smells.

True to the elf woman's word, there was Yvonne, (pretty as ever), busy inspecting various bottles and barrels. The aromas of several liquors wafted in the air, tattling on her having sampled a few while he was still upstairs.

"--Uh see ya ain't drunk it all yet!" he crooned with excess joviality. "Whadda we gots 'ere?"

He busied himself with the other side of the store-room, sniffing at various kegs and barrels. Something labelled "Mead" caught his attention, stored in small casks. With a mischevious grin, he lifted one off the rack, and carried it to the center of the room. "Ya ever had ... 'MEAD'... Afore? smell nice & sweet..." he drawled, reading the charred lettering on the barrel. He broke the seal then turned the bung with it suspended over his mouth to let a thin trickle hit his tongue, and instantly fell in love. It was clearly made from honey, and had a subtle sweetness. It was also very strong liquor, that burned his nostrils. Quickly, he closed the bung, then came up for air.

"WHOOOO!! Ya gots ta try it!"

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.