Chapter 14

A few days later, Root would find herself escorted into an enormous bedroom that was large enough to be four houses for her. It was lavish, to say the least. With huge crystalline windows hung with heavy blue velvet and silk curtains bearing the white lilies of Temeria. The exquisite bed alone took up one whole mid-section of a wall and was draped with embroidered quilts, plush pillows and several additional throws tossed over the end. The four wooden pillars on the corners of the base boards were elegantly carved into fantastical creatures; a regal lion, a prancing stag with antlers entwined with ivy, a fox standing on two legs reaching up toward a bunch of grapes, and a curled dragon. And linking them were brass rods with heavy curtains that could be drawn around all sides for privacy, but they were folded back and secured at that time with dark blue cords. A round, plump woman bustled around her, making comments here and there about Root's clothing and appearance but the forest maiden barely paid her any mind as she wandered the room. She made her way over to the marble fireplace, which was cold but had wood set and ready within. And upon its mantle was a collection of fine books, figurines of men on horseback, jeweled goblets that were clearly treasures from some distant land and other small items. A large fur rug adorned the space before the fireplace and a high-backed chair of dark red leather sat near it with a small side table. She was simply stunned by everything around her.

"Are you listening?" barked the woman, standing there looking cross. "Follow me."

"Erm…" Root said, not at all sure what she should be saying or doing, and did so.

"Here is the washroom and wardrobe, complete with fitting area. The lady will be sure to be properly bathed, scented and dressed at all times while in this palace. I won't hear of you wearing…whatever that is in front of his majesty. Am I clear?" the woman said and Root nodded her head, fearful to refuse the woman dressed in a severe coif and veil.

"Good. The serving staff will be in here shortly and you're expected to dinner at sundown. Just listen for the bells, they'll alert you to make your way down. Leave your soiled garments in that trunk and we'll clean them for you." She said and rushed out of the room, leaving Root standing alone in the huge chamber by herself as the door closed.

Elsewhere, and later, the Witcher was grumbling to himself and waved away one of the men sent in to help him dress. He was still somewhat frustrated at Dandelion for putting them in the position they were. But as chance or fate would have it, a hard frost swept the land on their last night at camp, bringing the bite of winter earlier than he'd expected.

"But sir, that's not quite how that goes. It's a sash, over the right shoulder and…yes that's it, cross-wise. Let me adjust the buckle."

Geralt stood looking at himself in the dressing mirror while servants flitted around him like hummingbirds, pulling here and there, making sure the garments were perfect in every way; a black leather jerkin with brass military buttons over a freshly starched, crisp white cotton shirt, finished with a rich blue sash. He was glad they didn't make him wear the ridiculous ruffles some nobles favored because he was fairly sure he'd disgrace himself by tearing them off. But he was grateful for the hot bath and shave.

"Do remember the gentleman will address his grace properly at all times and no weapons are allowed in his presence." Said one of staff.

"I've been here before." The Witcher mumbled and had had quite enough. "Out! Enough. I'm not a child."

The servers bowed low and did as bid, the door closing behind them. None of them brave enough to argue with the famous witcher.

As Root sat in the enormous bathtub filled with scented oils and bubbles as high as her chin, the staff made sure to clean every inch of skin, sometimes a little roughly as they scrubbed her dirty fingernails and tsk'd about them being un-manicured, asking her several times about what she had been doing. They pampered her, primped, trimmed and brushed her for what seemed like hours until finally she was seated in front a large vanity in the washroom, dressed in a simple cotton robe while the hairdresser complained about her short, uneven locks before deciding to leave them smooth with a slight outward flip at the ends. There then came a knock at her door and she heard a familiar voice.

"I am the great Dandelion, madam. And I am no stranger to aiding a woman into and out of her clothing. You're all excused, I'll take it from here." He said as the women gasped at his bold statement and innuendo.

The bard walked into view and Root blinked, hardly believing her eyes, her jaw slightly agape. If Dandelion was well-dressed before, he was absolutely smashing in his long-sleeved indigo shirt with violet crushed velvet vest; wine colored beret with peacock feather, black pants, shiny, knee-high boots and soft black leather gloves that kissed the indigo lace at his wrists.

"That's the reaction I usually get." He said, bowing low. "I owe you an apology, mi'lady. My first impression on you was the worst I think I've ever given. I hope you'll pardon me and allow me the pleasure of helping you into your gown this evening."

Root smiled kindly. "How can I refuse such a request, master bard. If I survive this winter, you're forgiven."

Dandelion laughed heartily and straight away went to the wardrobe, beginning to look at the numerous dresses and accessories.

"Not your first choice living at court?" He said, turning his eyes to her. "Fret not, lady. It's not as intimidating as all that. And you have me to help you. I may not be much of an adventurer, warrior or healer but I do have quite the variety of social skills. Music is simply a passion of mine. But the study of human culture, matchless. Ahh here we are. Come here, let us try this." He said and motioned for her to stand on the short ottoman before the large three way mirror in the walk-in closet.

As the first bell began to sound, signaling for all to advance to the dining hall, Geralt and Regis found each other in the foyer just outside the seating area, at the base of the grand staircase that wound up to the left and to the right. The Witcher pulled on the stiff collar, annoyed. But Regis looked like he'd been born to wear the finer things in life. He wore a long-sleeved doublet of the deepest burgundy, secured with a single row of jeweled buttons, and soft ivory just showing beneath the cuffs and flared collar. Light doeskin pants and soft black boots finished his look, a mix of simplicity and finery.

"Good evening, White Wolf. My, don't you clean up well." Regis said giving his old friend a kind smile, knowing the Witcher hated being at court.

"I might still murder Dandelion. Still, I have to admit I'm grateful for the comfortable bed. I'm quite looking forward to that. Where the hell is he and Root?" he said, glancing into the main hall as the other guests began to file in.

When Regis didn't answer, the Witcher looked over to see his friend looking up at the top of the right hand staircase. There was Dandelion, looking fabulous and ever so much himself. But beside him was a woman transformed.

"Now, just like I showed you, slowly, one step at a time, never rushing." Said the bard, and he and Root descended the stairs. "Perfection."

The dark green velvet dress hugged every inch of Root's curvy body right down to her ankles; the cut modest, long sleeved, and finished with a dark brown sash-belt embroidered with green aspen leaves that ran down the left side. On her feet were soft brown slippers. And crowning her was a circlet nestled perfectly into her hair, with tiny golden antlers peering from the dark brown locks. Regis also noticed the necklace he'd bought her, which complemented the dress perfectly. They reached the base of the stairs and Dandelion held her hand.

"Gentleman, I present your, our, company for the evening."

The Witcher and the vampire both politely bowed at the waist, simply stunned by how very different she looked. Yet the way the bard had dressed her accentuated her wild spirit. And she surprised them both by performing a flawless deep curtsy, lowering her eyes and then bringing them up to meet theirs.

"Good evening, my lords." She said softly, and then flushed a little. "That sounds so silly, Dandelion."

The three shared a quiet laugh. "It's part of the grand play, Root. You'll get used to it. I'll help you." He said.

The second bell began to ring throughout the palace, signaling for the guests to take their seats. Emiel Regis stepped forward, the very vision of ancient, old world elegance and grace, and offered his arm to her.

"If I may escort the lady?" he said, his voice melodic and wonderful to hear after all the chatting of the servants.

Root slipped her arm into his, feeling at once that as long as he was with her, all would be well. Geralt looked to Dandelion and nodded his silent thanks and approval. To which Dandelion replied by offering his arm to the Witcher and Geralt grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"Get off." He mumbled and Dandelion chuckled quietly.

The Witcher and bard followed their friends into the main hall and took their seats just as the final bell rang.