wierdw

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

"Well, it can't be any of us on 'Party-Duty'--" Scoffed Alfonse "--and if he thinks I'll do special orders under these conditions, he's got another thing coming. Rupe and I are stretched thin as it is."

"He DID say 'Leftovers' Al--" chimed Rupert with a naughty smile, before testing the bowtie pasta again, this time meeting with satisfaction at its firmness. "Anything that's been out there long enough to get cold we would just have to chuck out and you know it-- If that silly bear's happy with leftovers, he would be thrilled with that, don't you think?" he continued, while carrying the large stock pot to the drain.

"GIVE ME THAT-- it's about damn time-- --But if His Majesty finds out about it, we'll have hell to pay."

"We still don't even know WHO to send!" chimed in Jeanie. "You lot only got to eaves drop on his little pantry-raid earlier today, you didn't have to watch him drink and carry on! He and my formal charge, Miss Von Rosenving, are such.... such... CADS!"

"Your secret's safe with us, Jeanie--" Rupert ventured with a naughty chuckle.

"SHUT UP you bastard! It wasn't like that!" she countered, scandalized. "They just kept pressuring me to drink and talk! Thank the stars for that doctor showing up!" A loud clank followed her plunking the matching lid for the roaster into the rinse basin, having finished scrubbing it clean.

"Did I miss anything interesting?" came a voice from the doors as they swung open then shut again. It was Melody, the maid that was PROPERLY assigned to the bearman.

"ABOUT GODSDAMNED TIME you showed up!" huffed Jeanie, standing up from the stool she had been using while doing the scrubbing in the scullery.

"So you managed to catch him then?" asked Melody, gliding into the scullery like she owned the place.

"NO THANKS TO YOU! Where WERE YOU anyway!?"

Melody blushed a little, and rubbed the ball of her right foot in a small circle on the smoothed stone flooring in front of her shyly. "... I had to explain to Miss Sylvia why it was I had the bear use the laundry last night..."

Rupert's brassy baritone laughter erupted suddenly then was cut short just as quickly by the sound of a loud metallic thunk.

"WE DONT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR DAMN HORSELAUGHS RUPERT-- Get on those stuffed eggplants, or so help me, I'll bend you like a pretzel and shove you in the oven myself!"
---"JEEZE Al-- Lighten up, I have them right here--"
"LESS TALK, MORE SLICING! We have every "Discerning Palette" in the kingdom out there, and it's JUST US in here for gods' sakes!"

"Well, They're in a rare mood tonight, aren't they?" asked Melody with an amused smile, thankful for the distraction from having to discuss "The meeting" she had finished.

"So, you know he got kicked out the party, but don't know what he did afterward then?" scoffed Jeanie.

Melody's face drained a little. The bear-man was actually very nice, but he clearly had a lot of deficits when it came to social propriety. The mind boggled about what all he COULD have done to mess up this meet-and-greet any further than he had already done. "no-- .. Dare I ask what?"

"HE WANTS US TO SERVE HIM DINNER IN HIS DAMN ROOM, THAT'S WHAT!" balked Alfonse, amid a clatter of porcelain. "--PERSONALLY--"

Melody looked at Jeanie with a stunned, wide-eyed expression.

"Ooooh no--" started Jeanie. "You're not weaseling out of this one Melody-- He's YOUR problem; I've got ENOUGH to try and deflect already, having to drink with him and my own charge earlier today-- He wants us to have dinner with him in his room, that's TOTALLY ON YOU to figure out!"

Melody looked blindsided and confused. "--What now?"

Rupert's brassy cackle once more shook the room despite the low-volume cursings coming from Alfonse, who was clearly out of arm's reach this time. "Apparently, he wants us to not only serve him in his room, but he wants us to DINE with him too! Bon-apatite, Melody!"

"I CAN'T, I'M SUPER BUSY RIGHT NOW!" exclaimed Melody in alarm.

"Not so busy you can't come snooping in here, taking up space and not even helping with the dishes!" balked Alfonse. "At least Jeanie knows how to be HELPFUL!"

Rupert's cackle continued uninterrupted, amid his amused humming while he busied himself cutting and coring eggplants.

"Just go find somebody to sit with him Mel-- Al, Rupert and I will get the old carts in shortly, and we can send one of those up to his room when you get back here. Leave the kitchen to us, you just take care of getting the old carts back in here, and finding people to "Entertain" your guest."

Melody heaved a weary sigh. Why was this happening? This was just insult to injury. Everything about having this person in the castle this past day had been messier than a toppled delivery wagon on market day.

"I'll... Try to find somebody then.." she breathed anxiously.

"Better get to it!" joked Rupert, who once more got another thunk from Alfonse "OW Al! I'm working, I'm working! Jeeze!"

"Better go before Al starts contemplating hitting women!" giggled Jeanie mischievously. "I can't WAIT to hear the gossip you stir up with this!"

Melody grabbed up a handful of floating soap suds from the wash basin, and smeared it on Jeanie's face. "I aught to wash your mouth out! You KNOW nothing untoward has happened!"

"IF YOU AREN'T HELPING, THEN GET OUT ALREADY!" balked Alfonse. Jeanie just smiled wickedly at Melody, then pointed to the door.

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

Jeanie walked as briskly and quickly as she could without going into an all-out run.

Had this bear-man-creature-person-thing lost his-or-its gods damned mind?! It had *JUST* gotten kicked out of the ball for causing a scandal, and here it was, neck-deep in starting ANOTHER one!

There were the masters of the home, and then THERE WERE THE SERVANTS. There would be CONSEQUENCES for failure to avoid fraternizing between the classes! Big ones! The kind people could talk about for centuries, and here he was, big as a damn barn, being all up-front and personal, when he *NEEDED* to be discrete, and put on the air of station His Majesty sorely needed from him right now!

--WANTING US TO DINE WITH HIM!?

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Her skirt whisked and rustled. Her knuckles where white and clenched on the hems, to avoid tripping. With a sigh of relief, she entered through the servant's door into the kitchens at long last.

"Took you long enough Jean."

That was Rupert, the sous-chef. Alfonse, the head chef, was busy manning 4 pans over the hearth, two containing delicate cream sauces, one containing a reduction glaze for carrots, and the third simmering a rich red sauce made of tomatoes and basil. The smell of fresh garlic bread radiated from his direction.

"No time to chat mister! Are those noodles ready yet or not!? The white-sauce is going to separate at this rate-- If you overcook those noodles, so help me--"

Apparently, Alfonse was feeling saucy in more ways than one. Jeanie watched Rupert fish out a piece of bow-tie pasta with a fork, then press it against the cutting board, before biting on it. "Still a bit too al dente."

"And the linguini?! Surely that's ready!"

Rupert motioned Jeanie toward the scullery. "Go make yourself useful Jeanie-- I've got my hands full out here."
"And even more full if he doesn't stop talking!" balked Alfonse.

She complied, though she was even more worried about the "bear" situation, now more than ever, seeing how busy the kitchen was. Alfonse was not really a tyrant-- He just ran a tight kitchen. Rupert on the other hand, liked to take things a little easy, and sometimes quality slipped a bit. They actually worked well together, and could coordinate large meals if they stayed focused. The issue was that Rupert's more laxidastical (Though he insisted it was "practical") nature tended to make him want to gossip and talk while he worked.

"Ignore him Jean-- He's just salty about the fish."

"What fish?... Was it salmon?" she asked, suddenly reminded of the bearman saying he could smell it being cooked all the way from his room.

"It... It was actually. It's what has us behind on serving the next course-- Had to actually FIND one in the ice-house, chip it out of the block, thaw it, and then try to do our best with something that we didn't know we even had in storage. Alfonse was FURIOUS!"

"STILL FURIOUS!" the man in the white chef's hat raged, while peeking inside the oven. "The bread is GOING TO BURN! HURRY WITH THAT PASTA!"

"Well, he's gonna LOVE this then--" started Jeanie as she called through the scullery door, while marveling that the bear had somehow actually been right about what had been cooking in here. She was pumping water into a large bronze tub used to scrub pans, while reaching for a scouring brush. "--You know Mr Tall Dark, and Hairy?"

"What about him?"

"HE GOT KICKED OUT OF THE PARTY, So that's One less mouth demanding impossible things!" balked Alfonse "FOR FUCKS SAKE, Stoke the fire a little or something!!"

"Alfonse, Do you want the noodles cooked properly, or overdone? Make up your mind."
"PUT A LID ON IT THEN!"

"Don't be so sure about that." cackled Jean. "I barely caught him before he could escape the grounds, and led him back to his room-- He wants to have dinner served There."

"OF COURSE HE DOES!! ALL OUR STAFF OUT THERE ON THE FUCKING FLOOR, AND HE WANTS US TO DRAG HIS MEALS UP FOR HIM ON THE FAR SIDE OF--"

"--With us."

The sound of bubbling pasta water, simmering sauces, and the very quiet sound of soap bubbles popping dominated the room, as far as Jeanie could tell.

"... What do you mean-- 'with us'?--" Ventured Rupert, suddenly very eager to test the pasta again.

"... I uh.... Might have let it slip.. that we don't normally get any of the food we cook or serve.." she said, getting red-faced, and doubling down on her scrubbing.

"And?" he demanded, before biting a bit of thin noodle, and deciding it was actually ready, taking it off his own hearth with pot-holders and over to the drain to strain them. "That's hardly anything controversial-- Why would he care?"

"ABOUT FUCKING TIME!" bellowed Alfonse, who elbowed Rupert away from the noodles the instant they were in the strainer, stealing it away with him and back over to where his delicate sauces were in danger of browning if they didn't get served in the next few minutes.

".. Apparently he does--- VERY STRONGLY." she groaned, then dunked the large roasting pan she had been scrubbing into the rinse basin. "He says to bring up any 'leftovers' to his room, and to bring plates for ourselves-- insists that he wants to share with us, and will be insulted if we don't"

"LIKE FUCKING HELL!"

"So, who do think we should send, Jean?"

"I have no idea, Rupe."

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

Cedar reached into the front pocket of the elaborate jacket top that had been made for him, and extracted an equally, if not shamelessly, elaborately woven kerchief, then used it to dob his face around his eyes, as the maid came scuttling up to him, huffing and a bit out of breath.

"His Majesty wishes for you to please remain, and to not be so quick to leave over the discourtesy our other guests." she breathed, before leaning against the wall.

"Why are you always getting lost, Mr Cedar? Your room is THE OTHER WAY!"

He snuffed at her. He hated to admit it, but in all honesty, most humans all looked more or less the same to him. Broad pink faces, short, thin, rounded off noses, short, flat jaws, lanky builds... His dad had advised him to NEVER say this to them, saying it would never be accepted in a good or generous light, but with these maid and man-servant types in the castle, all dressing identically, and even doing their hair the same, it was VERY hard to keep track of which one he was talking to. Admittedly, some were a lot more attractive than others; Yvonne, for instance, was a very fine woman. A little short for his liking,--but that probably didn't matter any, since she clearly was not interested in him, judging from her scent-- but muscled in all the right ways, and she carried herself with pride and confidence. A strong, and independent woman that wouldn't accept any bullshit--Very Very attractive, for a human..(and more importantly, she knew how to drink!)... Then there were others, that, while clearly attracted to him (In fact, disgustingly, and insufferably attracted to him)-- like lady Stritzel-- that were not really at all attractive. She was thin, and lanky, with almost no muscle definition, and... was just downright "touchy" (in that she seemed way too eager to touch without permission), and left him feeling like he needed to return to the laundry to scrub with the soap some more to wash the dirtiness off. But generally? Yeah-- they all looked the same.

Thankfully, they didn't all smell the same. He could tell this was Jeanie, the maid that he and Yvonne had convinced to share a drink with them earlier that day. She still had a faint waft of alcohol about her, which made him smile.

"Oh.. uh.. Hiya 'dere miss Jeanie.." he muttered, trying to work up the energy to sound jovial. "Is ih' really da odder way?" he asked pleasantly, only to be given a raised eyebrow and a nod. "It is?-- well, ohkay-- Sorruh 'bout dat..."

She sighed, and shook her head with incredulity. "I know the castle is large Master Cedar, but how you can confuse the WEST wing with the EAST one is just... I don't understand..."

She grabbed his huge paw-like hand gently, leaving him just barely enough time to tuck the weighty metallic object into his waistcoat pocket. "This way-- Past the main hall, and then ..." she rambled, giving directions that were completely meaningless to him. All the hallways looked the same to him; an endless maze of corridors made of stone, polished tile, soft carpeting, paintings, tapestries, and various other expensive decorations, but otherwise completely uniform; with equally spaced and identical looking doors on either side, occasionally interspersed with the less showy doors leading into the servant's corridors. His vision was just fine, more or less; The issue at hand, was that he did not live in a "vision-dominated world." Humans often told stories of getting turned around backward inside of forests or caves, but he never had such problems, as a few discrete scent markings here and there were every bit as good as painting a wall bright red was for a human, and far quicker and easier to accomplish. He himself, and numerous other animals, would just select a random rock or tree, and rub (or.. smear.. ahem.) their scent on it, indicating to others that they lived there, what their health was like, what gender they were, and a host of other things. Essentially, 'street signs' to anyone with a nose that was at least even passably useful. Humans, it seemed to him, were completely oblivious to these. His dad had expressed that he knew "of" them, but confided he could not smell anything of interest, even when right up next to one, other than "Smell a bit like pee, prolly wolf", or "Smell musky. Prolly boar." This had always amused and confounded Cedar, as his dad was otherwise very bush-crafty, and knowledgeable of the creatures that lived there, and how they got along, despite lacking the senses needed to truly participate. Rather than scent, Jack used his vision for nearly everything that his ears could not pick out. Truly, an amazing thing to the bear-man, and amusing to both himself, and to his mother.

Here in this castle though, it would be "Indiscreet" and "Not polite" to mark the halls or walls-- so his dad had told him-- leaving him to do his best to try and memorize the halls by their innate fragrances and scent profiles, but they kept changing in frustrating and unpredictable ways. In the morning, the hall outside his room had a vague scent of blueberry tarts.. and now, in the evening, it had smelled vaguely of ammonia and some fruit he could not really identify. It made no sense to him how the whole corridor could change like that in so short a time.

"..Which then ends up here, at the end of the East Wing, and right outside your door-- SIMPLE as that!"

He just shook his head side to side tiredly. The corridor smelled like.. Gravy. Not very intensely, but.. yes. Beef gravy of some kind. This was just too much. He HAD to ask.

"Uh... Jeanie? Coul' yas tell muh why it is da hall smell like gravey jus naow, bu' smell like somebuddy soak' some kinda fruit inna pot a ammonia afore da parteh?"

She looked at him like he was insane, with the side of her mouth ajar, and raised eyebrows.

"..what?"

"Likes uh said-- an, afore 'at, it smell like bluhberreh tart... Kinda like da tart smell..." he smiled bemusedly. "It change e'ery time uh walks daown ih'.... Git me all confuse' it does. All turn' round backward ih' seems..."

"...It smells like gravy?" she asked with the same confused and incredulous expression.

"Yeah-- Gravey... Beef gravey--- but no' da kin' wit' milk innit.. naw, da kin' ya makes wit' onions and wa'er..."

She boggled, and shook her head as if it were the most bizarre and random question she had been asked all night. "I really couldn't tell you, Master Cedar-- I do not smell any gravy in the corridor-- but I'll take your word for it. They have been making food all day for the party, so maybe you are smelling that from the kitchens.. but..."

"Dey on da odder side o' da buildin', yeah... I knowed." he drawled with a smile.

She looked at him confusedly and somewhat concernedly, then leaned against the doorframe to his room, as if trying very hard to get a grasp on reality. "And you can smell that all the way from here?" she ventured, cautiously.

"Aww naw-- Ain't cookin' gravey daown dere-- ey's cookin' fish! --Da kin' wit da red flesh in'em--.. SALMON! Yeah, 'at's it! Salmon!" he said triumphantly, with a bit of pride and straightness in his posture. "Smell like it frum daown 'atta way, an tuh da lef'-- It da HALLWAY as smells like gravey!"

This latest revelation left her at a complete loss for words, she muttered something seemingly inaudible under her breath, before sucking in, holding it a moment while trying to straighten her face and regain poise and composure. The process took several seconds before she stood fully erect, then turned to face him with absolutely perfect candor-- prim, and proper.

"I am afraid I am at a loss for how it could be that you smell these things in the hallway, Master Cedar, we clean them thoroughly many times daily, but I will make inquiries."

It was his turn to look incredulous and confused at this last revelation. "... Manuh time.. A DAY?" he rumbled. ".. Uh kin see clean'n em e'ery few day 'er so... buh.... Many time A DAY?"

"Oh yes! HAVE TO!" she quipped, with color seeming to bloom in her otherwise uniformly pale cheeks. "Or the DUST starts to gather! SO MUCH DUST!"

He gave her a suspiciously sideways look with a raised eyebrow. "...Dus'?" he drawled. "..Ya's clean all durn day, on accounta a lil' dus'?"

"You have NO IDEA!" she quipped, quickly looking a bit flustered. "It shows on EVERYTHING if you don't keep on top of it! Mistress Sylvia haunts the corridors with a white cotton glove, and if she finds even the slightest hints of it, we get in serious trouble! Regular cleanings, 4 times daily!"

"... Haun'? ... She sum kina ghos' er summat? I would'na .." he started, intending to say that he 'wouldn't put much stock in that kind of thing, excepting for what he's been exposed to the past few days', but she cut him off.

"GODS I WISH!-- No, she's the head maid-- A withered old crone of a woman in a black dress and a white apron. She carries a wooden spoon with her, and whacks us if she feels we aren't working hard enough!"

"She.. HIT yahs?!.." he breathed, incredulous that anyone would treat such nice and helpful people as the castle's staff like that, even feeling a bit protective of them upon hearing this revelation.

"I've... I've said too much.." she stammered, once again struggling to regain her composure. "Please... Stay and enjoy the rest of the evening, Master Cedar, I.. I have duties to attend to..."

"Wuh.. wait wait wait..." he drawled quickly as she tried to pry herself away from him and scurry off like a scared cat. "I's fammish'-- Afore's ya goes, kin ... Kin uh gits soma dat food in muh room? I seen'd 'ere were a table in 'ere...."

She made an exasperated sigh, as if continued conversation with him was making her die a little inside. "... Yes... I suppose... you could..." she muttered.

He clapped his paws together and smiled at her broadly-- (a display that was actually a bit frightening if one did not see the absolute joy that was in the eyes, rather than focusing on the impressively sharp dentition his mouth possessed)-- causing her to recoil in horror, before he quickly slapped a paw over his face in alarm. "oh--- Surruh 'bou' 'at!" came a muffled but mirthful baritone rumble from behind the paw. It was his turn to studiously put on 'proper posture', carefully smoothing his face to make it appear completely safe, and non-hostile, with body language that was alert, but friendly. "uh's is lit'rly starvin', ya un'erstand; --Food at da parteh mighty fine, buh'... Such smaaal servin's... Righ' tortur' ta eats ih'. .. an' den ya gots em' teeneh tineh lil' glasses as force meh ta has tuh reach daown in em with muh tongue, all gross-like-- If'n ya brings meh up sum grub in 'ere, uh can eats all proper like fer a change."

Awareness seemed to dawn on her about just how difficult it really must be for .... something... like him to try and dine in the dining hall, and maintain proper decorum. His needing a lot of food seemed quite apparent in hindsight-- he was ENORMOUS-- as did his apparent need for alternative table-ware-- Just look at his mouth? Of course he had trouble out there...

"I'll.... I'll have something sent up..." she said pensively, then ".. Anything else, Master Cedar?"

He stood there a moment, looking into the empty, and overly large room. The table in there was easily big enough to seat one of him, and four more humans besides, with a large "Stuffed chair" that could seat at least 3 humans sitting side by side comfortably, and number of plush arm chairs in addition to that.

"... Yeah.... Does.. .. When does you folks git ta eat?"

She sighed. It was probably best to tell him the truth.

"We dine after the work is completed, Master Cedar. If there is anything left over from the party, we may have some of it, but for the most part, what Their Highnesses, and their Guests are served, is not what we enjoy here at the castle."

His jaw dropped in shock. This was just... This was just unimaginable for him.

".. .. Le' me git dis straigh'..." he boggled, "Dey makes ya clean 'is 'ere dump FOUR TIME' A DAY, makes ya work an' sweat in 'at steamy arsed room at smell like sumbuddy dun peed on all da walls ta gits da clothes clean, Cook all da food, serve all da dranks, and takes cares ah all da gues's-- an' dey dun e'en le' yas has da good stuff?!"

It was an affront to every concept of moral decency he had, concerning how a guest should approach his or her host. It was UNSPEAKABLE to contemplate that he was being treated in such an elaborately special way, when the people giving that treatment, were treated much less well.

His thoughts dwelled on what the servant's corridors looked like, in stark comparison to the elaborate and decorated halls outside, then made a nasty face.

"Naw! Naw naw naw! 'At won' do a'tall!" he scowled. "Ya goes daown tuh duh kitchens, an' picks out what ya wants, an' brings ih all up 'eres, 'long with muh own dinnar, an' sits an enjoys it wit meh, ya hears?! All a ya, ya all welcome-- Bring meh up a helpin', an' serve ya self while ya at it! Uh insist!"

She looked positively stunned, almost as if he had asked her to join him in the bed-- though, perhaps not quite that scandalous.

"That... That is decidedly improper, Master Cedar." she struggled to get out.

"uh dun care wat dem prissy dandehs think be proper-- Ya'all gittin' a proper meal same as uh is, an uh'd consider it an insul' ifn' ya don'!"

A look of exasperated bewilderment bloomed over her face as if she had just seen him naked and straddling a towel while drying off.

"I.. I'll pass that along..." she croaked.

"Yous does 'at!" he crooned back "Naow hurreh on along-- Dun wan' at ol' ladeh wit' da spoon ta hit ya, does ya?"

She stammered, then made a jerky bow of dismissal, then practically ran away from his room down the corridor. He smiled to himself inwardly, then entered his room, and started straightening it up for guests.

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

"NO SPEECH'S!" he blurted rather violently, before recovering and stammering.

"uh.. uh dun like bein'... roun' lotsa peoples... It. Uh dun like it." he drawled with a suddenly 'thousand yard look' in his eyes, which then just as suddenly, and somewhat disturbingly refocused on Theodore.

" If'n ya jus' wans' sum silly ol' spells shown off.. 'at's fine an' all, buht... Not fer verruh manuh. .. No moar an' abou' five 'er so.. Ih.. ih hard tuh keeps track o' em.. an' uh dun like bein' stare' at. ... Make muh fur stan' on end... Oh-- AN NO DANCIN'. Ain't NUTTIN' good e'er come a dat dancin' spell... Nuh uh. No Sir! --Onluh cas' it TWICE'T-- an' it dun wrecked a whole dayum taown bot' dayum times!"

He had noticed that some humans seemed to positively revel in being showy, pretentious, and being the center of everyone's attention, but he had found that this was simply not for him. He much preferred the quiet non-visibility of simply going all fours in the woods, and only interacting like a man when he really needed to. True, his thoughts and feelings had not properly been those of a "proper bear" since he was maybe 7 months old, and he most certainly did remember what that felt like, but this was not about trying to delude himself into thinking he was something he was not. He just found that other animals were significantly less judgemental than humans were, and were VASTLY easier to understand. To him, human "thinking" had a lot in common with a howling thunderstorm, or maybe a jumbled up ball of wire, or a knotted up length of rope. Loops, turn-arounds, knots, twists, -and with some people at least-- frayed edges. His own thoughts were a bit twisty, at least compared to a proper bear's, but nowhere near the maddening maze of plots, plans, and 'rationalizations' that lived inside a human. He knew, because before he started having 'man-thoughts' of his own, his dad could touch his mind like he did with his mom-- and he remembered exactly how that felt. He would never forget how that felt. Missed it even. More than once, he had looked into his dad's lonely, single brown eye, and wished he could be wrapped in that all-encompassing warmth and love the man had inside him-- even if there was a raging tempest of maddening thunders and crackles held at the edge.

What he did have inside him, was very much a stripped down version of what he had felt back then. His dad was a storehouse of some very terrible feelings, memories, doubts... but somehow that man kept it at bay.

-- He wished he knew know.

Suddenly, he realized he was in danger of compromising the "official position" he was supposed to be keeping.

"We kin talks' 'bout it, buh not 'here... Dun wunna talk tuh too many peoples righ' naow... already o'er muh limit, so tuh speak... Muh room s'posed tuh be daown one'ah 'dese 'ere halls.. .. Thank Meluhdey say it were ... 'da hun'ers' green room' or summat like at. ..... Beat the fuck outta meh which one it is dough..."

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

The sniffing and weeping bear stopped for a moment, but kept both his hands on the wall. Turned a huge head to face the man next to him, then boggled.

"y.... Yu'd do tha'?" He blinked and shook his head incredulously. "Yu... YU'D DO Tha'?"

the voice was kind of high pitch for cedar, and laced with incredulity. He was not used to people helping him like this. He didn't care a whole lot about what happened to him personally in this instance; he was fully prepared to leave this kingdom in shame, and just return home and never return. Might have even been for the best that way, all things considered.

Then he considered Baker's warning, and double-taked on exactly 'who' it was that was beside him.

It had been one of the 'officials' that had "interviewed" him in the dungeon. Granted, this one had not used a wooden plank like a bat across his back and butt while he was chained up and suspended in the air, but it was still one of his "Interviewers."

".... Uh ain't goin' tuh da dungeon a'gin, is uh?..." he muttered after a somewhat pregnant pause.

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

"Whut is it ya wan?" he asked almost on the verge of tears. "I jus' wan' go home. --Buh' 'is place!?"

He motioned around the hallway grandiosely and irritably "SMELL DIFFN' E'ERY TIME UH WALKS IN IT!!"

He leaned against the wall, and visibly wept. "..... Uh jus' wanned..... jus....." then sobbed quietly, and said nothing.

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

He could feel the entire room's stares baring down on him. The stench of anger and indignation in the room was stifling.

His heart sank. He really had been serious with his offer to Mrs von Kruber, and it still stood, if she changed her mind. Though that probably didn't matter now.

He bowed his head in dejection, then turned to face the king's table, and made a very low bow, before speaking very loudly, and very clearly, but solemnly.

"Uh apologize tuh his Hightness-- Lord a 'dis house, and high king o' Kindeance... It seem 'at Uhs is unable tuh acc'ept his mos' generous invitation tuh join him in dis' haouse, an' tuh has soiled his generous spirit, in takin' a chance on sommat like muhself..."

He shivered with nervous apprehension. Sweat broke out beneath his fur. His voice wavered.

"Try as uh migh', it seem it impossible fer meh tuh be da man he see me as-- an' tuh only be da bear, as oder's sees-- No ma'er how fancy da clothes is--. Uh onleh offer'd muh condolances tuh de widdow o' da late Baron von Kruber. -- Geniu'n, HEARTFEL' ones. But it seem uhs destined' tuh only e'er be a bear, ---curs'ed with de heart o' a man. She believe I kill' 'er husban'.... Buh I didn'... She think I mean ta shame 'er... Buh I don'. I wann'ed only ta off'r 'er and 'er family da fulles' exten' ah muh honor, muh integr'teh, an' muh support: A haouse a 'er own, an' da fulles' exten' a wat uh owns-- at no obligation a hern at'all-- free a charge: tuh use as she will. Bu' ih' wern' 'nuff. --Alls I manage, were tuh anger 'er, an' disgrace dis haouse. --Insul' a woman, as don' need more insul'n, an' cas' shame on da man as invited meh tuh stay in 'is home. .... .... Uhs sorreh, highness.. But it seem uh cain't stay. .. Buh Uh thanks ya fer tryin-- all da same. ... Uh'll go naow... an' no' darken ya days agin. ... Bears seem..... Bes' lef' outside."

He bowed so hard, that his head almost touched the floor, remained there for quite a few seconds, then stood, and walked calmly to the exit of the dining hall.

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

Cedar breathed a huge sigh of relief, then relaxed his posture noticeably.

'Ahh, guud..' he drawled somberly. 'Sorreh I dun dove off ya gues' 'ere, bu' it seem fate ain't all bad; --got a chance ta talk atcha..'

He nodded and slightly tipped his head. Ears went wide-apart with genuine contrition and sorrow.

'..Ya has muh deepes' condol'nces, concernin' ya people an' ya fam'leh.'

He made a short bow of dignified respect, with one arm behind his back, then straightened up again, keeping the pensive and sorrowful posture.

'It been weighin' heav'ly on meh, 'soon 's uh heard wut happen. Uh from a quiet rural taown tuh -- an' -- we din' git no help when we got ...' he trailed off then forced forward.

'I wann'ed ya tuh know, I wants ta help yas, an' yer peoples. Anuh way uh can. Sadleh, fer reas'ns I caint avoid, uh caint help em poor people a yorn... buh', see'in as ya here.. mebbeh I kin help yas, an' ya faml'eh. --No charge."

He looked innocently at the remaining 'table guest', then back again.

'His Majes'y dun reward'd meh han'somely fer protectin' is boy 'is pas' week. .. as yas kin plainleh sees-- I's a bear-- Uh dun' realleh need no money. --I sorreh, buh', I o'er heard yas has .. troubles... bu' uh has an idear, if'n ya in'rested. I has more 'n 'nuff tuh buys a nice, com'fer'ble haouse in taown-- mebbeh smaller'n ya used tuh, bu' yu'd beh welcome tuh it. It a fair be'er use an I cud put deh money tuh nohow, --an uh'd feel be'er 'bout not helpin' ya people rebuild 'er lives af'er wut happen'. Uh'd wear da harness an' pull da plaow muhself, if'n uh could..."

He once more looked at the other man-- 'Mason'? Was it?--, but kept talking to her. "Naow, afores ya gives an answer, uh won' be stayin' dere. Uh pruhfers were uh already is." He looked back at Mrs von Kruber. 'Uh don' wan' nut'n in return. 'Prop'rteh be in muh name, so ain't nobuddy got claims tuh take it. Ya coul' stay 'slong as ya like, an' leave when'er' yah wan'. E'en come back 'gin, ya needs tuh. Ya welcome tuh it--You 'n ya faml'eh been through 'nuff. Don' need people tryin' ta do ya wrong-- spec'lly af'er .. .. 'af'er wut happen'."

He paused a moment, then continued.

'Ain't nun muh bus'ness who ya marry, nor e'en if nor when-- I jus' wan' ya tuh know, ain' no rush. Ya takes ya time-- picks who ya wan'. Ain't nobuddeh should e'er feel pushed tuh do summat nor be wit' summat 'at dey dun want. Ne'er. 'At a sacred thang.--- buh you's thinks on it, aright? uh's real sorreh uh ruin' ya table. Only fair-- ya can has mine. If it please ya, you an' ya guests kin go o'er dere, while 'ey cleans up 'ere. If'n ya decides tuh take muh up on 'is, an' need a place tuh stay, uh'll talks wit' his highness.. see in'f ya caint stay 'ere in da cas'le tuhnight. Uh'd e'en give up muh room fer ya..."

He felt he had grossly overstayed his welcome, but had said what he wanted to. ... done what he wanted to..

Any more needed her consent, and he was not about to pressure her.

Far the opposite in fact.

'Lemme knows wut ya decides. No strangs-- no pressure. Ya choice.'

He bowed again.

'Have a gud ev'nin, Mrs von Kruber. Won' take no moar 'a yoar time.' he said, then turned and walked away.

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

Cedar glowered somewhat menacingly at the 'chaperone', but very sternly and politely addressed him.

"Sair, I dun' need ya ta tie meh to nobudy's apr'n strangs. I an't no chil', an I assures ya, I a LOT bigger an ya is. I ain't lookin' fer no trouble, but I kin clean up muh own messes. Ya hear?"

He turned back around just in time to hear the men talking rather rudely about him, which he studiously ignored. The hassling of the poor woman however, he interdicted on. He walked casually back to the edge of the table, well within talking distance, but outside of the patron's personal space, and where it could still be rightly called a 'common area.'

"Hey naow--" Cedar said very calmly. "Leave 'at poor lady be. If she who uh thinks she is, she dun been through 'nuff a'ready, an' dun need nunya bull-sheeit. I jus' come down tuh get sommat ta drink 'at muh face might righ'ly fit in-- Lil' bitty glasses is made fer hooman folk like yaself, nut for big ol' fellars like meh ya knows."

He had long since come to "just ignore" the hurtful bullshit some humans uttered. They only demonstrated how small and un-exercised their minds were when they behaved that way. He switched to a friendly, jovial tone.

"Asides-- anuhbuddy kin see da lady ain't intru'sted in summat like meh-- Onleh person 'at is, be 'at --creepy ol' hag-- Cait'lyn Stri'zle."

He made a revolted shudder, then turned his head.

He addressed the lady directly.

"Currect muh if'n I's wrong, but you's Mrs von Kruber, righ'?"

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

The man behind him seemed to be intent on pressuring the older woman, whom he presumed to be the wife of the former Baron von Kruber, into marriage.

Cedar did not like this prospect, as he felt that any union between the sexes should always be done through mutualistic interest and desire, and not through any kind of coercion. His reasons for this were personal: The difference between his dad being a loving husband, and a RAPIST, stemmed ENTIRELY on the fact that his mother actually desired his father in that way. As far as Cedar was concerned, it made all the difference in the world which situation was true, and which was not. He had argued to defend his father's honor more often than he had cared to dwell on, and this hard-lined distinction was now hard-impressed into what he considered "a right and proper" union.

He had sufficient misgivings to want to 'put an end' to any further 'unwanted advances' by this gentleman, but needed a means to do so without resorting to direct conflict. Moreover, those same misgivings, had him... questioning.. the reason for the young woman's scent of dread and terror. (It *WAS* quite possible that she was afraid of *HIM*, being so close to their table; However, she had smelled suspiciously fearful from across the room, before he had approached just as well.) He had.. Other suspicions.. that he needed to confirm, and for that he needed to.. Well... Let's just say that particular activity necessitated a rather unpleasant facial expression that he had found, humans found particularly threatening for some reason, despite being completely benign, perhaps even flattering, if they really knew what it was. In short, he needed an excuse to stop the man's advances and appear threatening, without actually, situationally, appearing threatening.

He smirked a little as the idea drifted through his head, before suppressing it. He would only really get one shot at this.

The randy gentleman that was being piggishly demanding of the poor widow woman was seated in a chair almost directly behind him; He could knock this man and his chair over if he just happened to back up 'just a bit' too far. A little "Accident" that nobody anticipated, and which startled everyone, even himself, would give exactly the kind of cover he needed.

He tipped his head the other way, as if STILL undecided which drink he wanted, and began backing up toward the man's chair, acting as though he were completely oblivious to the man's presence back there.

Within moments, his huge booted foot collided with the chair leg, the momentum of his far superior mass did its dirty work, and he choreographed the entire plan in rapid succession.

"--AH SHEEII' !--" he cursed in a hurried, but then self-hushed tone, faking surprise and alarm at the collision before spinning around quickly, causing his boot to entangle the chairleg further, and topple it onto its side.

As he spun, he curled his upper lip up, exposing his teeth in what surely appeared a most menacing manner, and pulled a slow and steady stream of air in, and through the roof of his mouth and nose, getting the deepest scent draw he could get on all the now highly startled dinner guests, committing every single detail and nuance to memory, before visibly smoothing his face, making the most pained and exasperated look he knew how to emulate, then bowing deeply to the "Offended" guests, offering his huge paw-like hand to the now spilled gentleman lying on the floor to assist him up.

"-- Ahh dayum-- I's real sorreh-- Please, Furgive muh clumbsiness-- 'Ere, lemme 'elp yous up misser?--"

He was angling for a name, and doing his best to show genuine courtesy to the man whom he had now (very much "Accidentally-on-purpose") caused to go for a tumble, and to the other stunned guests at their table.