Rosalind missed chairs.

She’d never thought them to be much of a “human” thing; she’d always considered them to be just everywhere. Why wouldn’t maidens sit down? Yet maidens didn’t tire as humans did; being on their feet most of the day was no bother to them. Sitting became more of a choice than a convenience. It carried a conscious thought to the act. But when it came to Rosalind, she’d found out that the act of sitting down was becoming more like a ceremony.

First, she’d clop her way to a cleared-out spot, an area roughly large enough to house her bulk. Then she’d check under herself, just in case she’d missed anything, or someone had rushed there for some reason (that had happened once, and she refused to let it happen a second time), and only then would she begin to sit down. She’d try to ignore the slight lurching from first bending her front legs, and then plop down her rear. And once on the ground, she’d lean back to make sure her skirt hadn’t shifted out of place.

There were fewer awkward ways to do it, such as how she’d seen her mother gracefully bend all four legs at once, but Rosalind’s attempts at such a feat had resulted in her face against the ground more times than she’d dare admit.

“You can remain standing, if you’d prefer, Rosa.”

Eli’s voice snapped Rosalind out of her thoughts. The Centaur clopped once in tempo to her nod. “Yes, madam, I would appreciate it.” It still felt awkward to be taller than everyone else in the room, but that was a price she was willing to pay if it meant not embarrassing herself in front of the lady-in-waiting. “Is… there anything you need of me? Anything I can help with?”

The room was in the Lady’s unofficial abode. The building used to belong to the Hunters, and as such, it was a reinforced structure, with thick walls and narrow corridors. Rosalind had to be careful not to bump her head against anything while at the same time keeping an eye out in case her skirt snagged on anything.

The light green tarp that covered nearly all of her equine body wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it got the job done. She was saving to get Miss Ahina to tailor something more fitting. Despite being the most sought-after maiden in the city, the Spinner placed priority on requests from maidens bonded to the Lord. It was one perk Rosalind had full plans to take advantage of.

“No, I called for you to check on your health, Rosa,” Eli replied with the usual sternness. “Are things going alright? Are you facing any particular troubles?”

Rosalind wished stairs would vanish from the world altogether, her bed was a smidge small, her clothes were a bit too sparse, and she could barely stand the stench of mold coming out of the books she had to work through.

Those were only the things that came to mind easily.

“No, madam,” she said instead.

Eli looked at her for a moment, and with a slight nod, turned to face the other side of the room, taking measured steps. “I called you here to inform you that the Lord and Lady will be leading an expedition into the deeper woods.”

“I… wish them the best of luck?” Rosalind said, standing there, trying to figure out what this was about, annoyed at having been called away from her books.

If there was one advantage to be had in her new life, it was that the Lord had deemed her ability to read and write critical enough that he granted her access to the library.

The Hound stared back at her, seeming to wait for her to add anything else. When it became clear she wouldn’t, Eli raised her voice slightly. “Do you have an alternate human available? In case the bond breaks. The bonds of the Lord might be potent, but we do not know to what extent.”

That jostled Rosa a little, shaking her head grimly. “I do not.” It was something she hadn’t considered. Thinking about the bond or the Lord in general was something she tended to avoid.

“See to find someone promptly. If you cannot get anyone you’d trust, then remember you have sisters you can ask for help.” Taking a moment to emphasize those final words, she shook her head. “Have you been taught how to avoid a bond panic?”

Rosalind quickly nodded. “Yes. If I feel the fear encroaching, I must think of those the Lord has brought alongside himself for protection.”

The Lady had been most kind in teaching her how to do this. It was a very simple matter to just imagine the maidens the Lord was surrounded by, and how impossible it would be for him to die. The thought was a foothold that let her push back on any concerns that might arise from the bond’s desire to keep her human alive at all costs.

Eli’s brow creased, canine ears pointing their attention forward. “But have you experienced that gulf?”

“I have seen Miss Urtha spar a few times, from the gates. And I’ve heard of Miss Monica’s exploits.”

With an exasperated sigh, Eli reached into the small pouch on her belt. She handed Rosalind a small cloth bag barely the size of her thumb. “Go talk to Miss Urtha. Tell her you’ve been sent to assist her with the logistics for the expedition.”

“I will do my best, madam.”

Administrative work was what she’d been taught, and an expeditionary force would undoubtedly present some challenges in getting everything in order. Her confidence in the task ahead was what allowed her to focus on the bag. A light purple piece of silk barely the size of a thimble. There was a barely perceptible scent coming off of it, sweet, but not any fruit she could recognize.

“What is this?”

“It’s to mark you as a possible problem.” The Hound shook her head, appearing slightly amused as she turned to the door. “Miss Eva will be paying you a visit to get it back once the expedition sets out.”

A shudder ran all the way down to the tip of her tail. Rosalind clopped nervously as she very nearly threw the little bag away from herself. “Is… this truly necessary, madam?” Meeting the Vampire was not something she wanted to ever do if she had any say in the matter.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Eli shook her head. “Consider this a rite of passage of sorts. I am sure you’ve been told about life as a maiden from your mother, perhaps even the expectations for a Lord’s maiden. But Lord Richard’s ability to have so many maidens under his direct protection has presented some… challenges.” She gestured at the little bag. “This is one of the solutions.”

It was clear the lady-in-waiting was being intentionally obscure about the nature of the pouch or its purpose. Rosalind suppressed the urge to glare, keeping it hidden behind a placid neutrality.

With a wave of her hand, Eli made clear there was nothing more to the conversation. Rosalind took her leave, carefully turning to the door and clopping her way out, making sure to bow under the frame to avoid smacking her head against it.

As of late, she’d grown to appreciate the newer houses that were being built with the tribe’s help. The ceilings were higher, meant to accommodate the Orcs’ abnormal height. There might be those who didn’t enjoy the increased empty space over their heads, but none would turn down an Orc helping put together their home.

The day was cloudy, as it had been the past few weeks. The Frostcaller was probably restless; maybe they'd get an early snow? Rosalind preferred when the snow came late; it made fall long enough to enjoy playing on the beach.

She'd been looking forward to riding her mother as the matron galloped through the sandy shore, enjoying the salty foam whipping in her hair, laughing together all the way…

The thought stung, bringing her eyes back down to her lower body. Though it was still covered in cloth, she could spot her own hooves every time she glanced down. Rosalind's gaze was stuck to the ground most days anyway; having twice as many legs and several times the size meant she had to be careful where she stepped.

It was in this manner that she made her way to the city gate. There was tumultuous activity going to and fro, with Orcs and Mousegirls being the primary source of the chaos. Boxes, bundles of cloth, bags, and more boxes. Most appeared to know what they were doing and where to drop or pick up whatever it was they had to move. But here and there would be stragglers, lingering with some large pile on their hands as they waited for someone else to point them in the right direction.

Rosalind kept her distance, not wanting to get in the way, watching Urtha, the tribal Orc “married” to the Lord. The maiden’s existence was a conundrum to Rosalind. From what little she’d studied on the subject, no one had ever heard of a wildling marrying a noble, and no one had heard of an otherworlder taking a title of nobility without the king’s blessing. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was best to stay within the good graces of both.

So she focused on the possible work ahead. By the looks of it, there was no real finesse or apparent method to how Urtha ordered things, pointing at the piling boxes as the drop-off point and little else.

Rosalind waited for a lull in the flow of work before approaching. "Lady Urtha, I was sent here to help. May I work in organizing things?"

Urtha was one of very few maidens in the city who was tall enough to still need to look down to meet Rosalind's gaze. The green giant rubbed her tusk, using its pointy end to pick some dirt from under her nail. "Just Urtha, none of that ‘Lady’ or ‘Miss’. Also, I haven't seen you before, who sent you?"

"Miss Eli."

"Hunting dog, got it." With a dejected wave of her hand, the brutish green maiden gestured at the pile. "Sort it if you want. Just don't get too creative about it. This'll get picked up by the tribe. No carts where we're headed."

Rosalind eyed the pile of miscellaneous… everything; her lips thinned ever so slightly. This would not do. "How many Orcs will be going? Any other maidens who will be carrying things? Do you have any transport maidens going along?"

"It'll be a hard push. Doubt there's many here who'll be able to keep up," Urtha made a gesture at her. "We'd take some of your lot, but the terrain gets pretty harsh deeper in. Roots are all over the place, barely any soil or rock to cling to."

Rosalind's brow twitched; she hastily turned toward the pile again. "So only Orcs carrying these. I think I can manage something. Do you have straps or bags?"

Urtha waved her off. "Don't worry too much; we make what we need if there is a need. Not like we'll be out there for months; some rushed wood and fibers work well enough." To emphasize the point, she pulled out some hemp rope from the pile and hastily turned one of the bulkier boxes into an improvised backpack. The maiden proceeded to lift the box that rattled with heavy metal things as if it were empty. "Oh right, gotta keep these at easy access."

"Hm?"

"Extra shields. Metal this time around; we'll need them against those Golden Elves or whatever their name is." She turned her attention away as someone else approached with some more cargo. "Anyway, Cape, get busy; I'll do the same."

"Cape?"

The only response she got out of the question was a half-cocked smirk before the Orc turned to focus on something else. Rosalind huffed, turning her glare to the work ahead and pulling her sleeves up. She might be new to being a maiden, but the only thing she needed here was the strength to move the heavy boxes around. Being a Centaur, strength was one of the things she had to spare.

She split the bulk into smaller portions, each one meant to be carried by a single maiden. Rosalind had thought she'd been properly allocating weight, but Urtha had stepped in to tell her she should double that estimation. It took a little trickery, but shuffling the contents around wasn't much of a challenge, just time-consuming.

Once everything was properly broken down into roughly fifty portions, she called for the help of the Mousegirls. Their task was simple enough: to tie everything together with hemp rope and make it easier to carry.

With that part of her work complete, she moved on towards water. The forest had rivers, but they were mostly tiny streams. Unless it began to rain, then they'd need to rely on water maidens to summon some, or on Elves to extract it out of the trees. Maybe a Terrielle to look for it underground? Though the tree roots appeared like they might not make that viable. Either way, they'd still need waterskins; the tribe hadn't gathered enough of them. Perhaps because they thought it would be nearly all Orcs?

Rosalind had just sent a Mousegirl to run off and procure the necessary waterskins when she heard a commotion.

The Orcs were hastily moving out of the way for the Lord and an entourage of maidens, each carrying small red boxes the size of Rosalind's head. The only exception was the behemoth of a maiden who stood at his side: the Sabertooth with short white hair and furred arms.

Lord Richard stood at the head of a group of four. The very first thing Rosalind noticed was his clothes. The man had leather studded armor over what was clearly traveling gear and a short sword strapped to his hip. It was a light ensemble that was well-worn. It also happened to be the sort of clothes a mercenary or handler would wear, not a Lord.

"This is a warning to everyone." He raised his voice as he directed the maidens to put the boxes down away from everything else. "Do not allow fire to get close to these boxes, do not drop them, and do not smack them. Everyone will need to get some added lessons on the proper handling of them."

"It might be a bit too much, Father, to bring this gift to our enemy," Urtha laughed, a sound that was carried by the others.

Rosalind had to agree with the sentiment. The forest was a dangerous place, but this Lord had two champions at his side, a tribe of Orcs, and his odd explosives besides. As frightening as the ferals and wildlings might be, she expected there would be very few things in the wilderness that might be able to stand up to such a force.

Yet the Lord did not share this amusement, his attention shifting to the Sabertooth beast, concern etched on his features.

"Not enough." Monica’s words carried chilly certainty with them. "Deep forest dangerous. Very dangerous." She pointed at Urtha, snarling, a sound that made Rosalind want to turn tail and bolt at the first opportunity. "Monica will stop Rick if not enough."

Just like that, everyone became deathly quiet, staring between the Lord and the most powerful maiden in the city.