Chapter Fourteen: What You Stand For

It's important that people should know what you stand for. It's equally important that they know what you won't stand for.

-Mary H. Waldrip

xxXxx

Guilash was the fourth capital Bearskin had ever seen, but the first one that had a waterfront. The air was a great deal saltier than she was used to and there was the stench of rotting fish.

Her nose crinkled in disgust, but she kept moving down the street, her familiar bag of hide and extra meat tossed over one shoulder as Baron walked close to her side. It had been a week since helping Belle, so thanks to time and the green salve she was so fond of, her hands were completely healed.

"This is probably going to be another short trip," she informed her cat in a manly voice, making him purr with gratitude.

Although he loved fish, it was clear that he didn't care much for the stench either. People were staring at them as they passed, but Bearskin had been long used to that, as little as she liked the fact.

She more or less ignored the attention, other than a few friendly nods and such to random people on the street.

Suddenly Baron bumped against one leg. She looked down in surprise.

"Meow," he said firmly, going down a street on the left.

Since he had been right about the Baron von Gikkingen and Beast's gate, she decided to follow without question.

He led her down two more streets before walking up a small set of stairs to a slightly rundown building and sat down to wait for her.

"Thanks, Baron," she grunted, fairly certain that this was the trading post.

He purred at her, tempting the girl to smile as she opened the door.

The surly old postmaster grunted a bit, making the girl wipe the slight smile off her face. "So… Bearskin, eh?"

"That is what people call me," she answered in a voice just as gruff, shutting the door behind her as Baron kept close. "Feel up to a bit of business?"

His smile was slightly greasy. "I'm always up for a bit of business. What have you got for me?"

From there, the conversation turned to haggling.

"… Badger skin…"

"… Barely worth the trouble…"

"… Silver fox skin…"

"… Obviously painted…"

"… Another trading post?"

"Oh, no need to make a fuss…"

"… Needles and thread…"

"What are you, a tailor?"

"When necessary. What are your longest- Baron!" she scolded sharply.

Unnoticed by them, her cat had sneaked behind the counter and was easing one of the thicker books off of the shelf.

"Hey, get away from that!" the postmaster snapped, but Baron didn't stop until the book fell free on its own.

The old man leapt in order to catch it, making the cat scamper back to his keeper. "Good books cost money, you filthy cat-"

"He isn't filthy," Bearskin defended with a growl.

"He still has no business pawing around my books. That one happens to be worth two gold pieces." He gently slid it back into place, still scowling at her cat.

That caught the trapper's interest. "What is it about?"

"Nothing a trapper would be interested in," the man said arrogantly, arranging himself on his little stool again. "Now, what were you trying to say before?"

Bearskin glared at him coolly. She fished two gold pieces out of her bag and placed them on the table, although keeping her fingers on the coins. "Let me try again; what is the book about?"

The postmaster was staring at the money shamelessly. "It's the collected works of Thegui's finest poets," he replied without hesitation. "I was lucky to get a copy here. Most people that come here don't like fancy words."

She gave a curious look to her cat. He was nodding enthusiastically and patting the hand holding the coins against the counter.

"… Consider it sold. Please fetch it for me."

He did so without hesitation. "I didn't know trappers were lovers of fine poetry."

"Only time will tell," she answered with a shrug.

The postmaster gave her a strange look as he handed the book over. "Why buy the book if you don't know?"

She took the book, allowing the man to take the coins. "My cat has unusually good sense. He hasn't disappointed me yet." She gave Baron a few fond scratches on the ear, making him purr with pleasure before slipping the book into her trading bag. "But back to the previous question, what are your longest-"

The door behind them suddenly slammed open, making both the trapper and postmaster look over with curiosity.

It was a finely dressed soldier, perhaps a captain. "Bearskin," he greeted with a fluid bow. "The country of Thegui is in need of your services."

She groaned in agony. 'I should have known better than to come to a capital.' "I don't do murders, I don't do kidnappings, and I don't do alliances," she informed him while holding a gloved hand to her forehead. 'Not another political knot!'

"Oh? Then it's a good thing that we don't want any of those things," the captain said carefully. "It's a retrieval."

She gave him a strange look. "A retrieval of what?"

"I was ordered not to say. The Chief Advisor himself wishes to tell you, as he can provide you with all of the details. If you would be kind enough to follow me to the palace? The kingdom is certain to make it worth your while."

Bearskin sighed and shouldered her bag. "We will continue later, postmaster. Let's get going, Baron."

Her cat nodded, although there was a guarded expression in his eyes now.

ooOoo

Despite how many peasants were dead certain she rubbed elbows with royalty, this was the first time that Bearskin had ever entered a palace. It was far grander than the number of castles she had visited since leaving the Northern Lands, almost as if it was necessary to remind people that the king lived there.

There were many people roaming the halls, most of them in very fine attire. But that didn't mean they were above pointing at her and whispering to each other like the common people were fond of doing. Some of the younger girls were giggling behind their beaded fans, but she wasn't interested in finding out why.

Baron was now riding on her shoulders and the captain had insisted that she leave her bag with one of his underlings. He had tried to get her to leave behind the satchel as well, but there was no way on earth that she was letting anyone get their hands on it.

That went double for Baron, even if he had been willing to leave his perch on her shoulders.

After three long corridors and a grand staircase, the captain gestured for her to wait while he entered a room alone. "Bearskin has arrived, your grace."

"Thank heaven, send him in immediately-"

"I still say you're making a mistake!" another voice insisted hysterically, even as the captain stepped aside for the trapper.

"Please don't let the abbot change your mind about helping," he whispered worriedly.

Bearskin was about to ask what an abbot was, but when she stepped into the room, she realized that no explanation was necessary.

It was another priest. She had to fight back a groan, but she managed a somewhat grim smile. "Greetings."

The man who was in rich clothing waved a warning finger at the scowling abbot as he came closer to shake the trapper's hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Bearskin. We would have contacted you sooner if we had known where to find you."

"If I was aware that help was needed, I'd have visited sooner. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to find Princess Blanche. She is the heir to the throne, you see, and since the queen died last week, she is the rightful ruler. Can you do it?"

Baron gave an amused purr.

"I'm going to need more information than that," she explained patiently, still using the man voice. "I think I should know why she left before I can search for her, at the very least."

"Ah, mm, well," he said while nervously scratching at one ear. "That's a bit of a long story."

She crossed her arms at him with a calm detachment. "If you expect me to take the job, I need to know the details. When did she leave and why?"

"… I'm afraid our queen was a shade… unbalanced," he said shamefully. "She loved the king dearly and never seemed to recover from his death. However, she had nothing but distain for the Princess Blanche, since she was the king's second wife and wasn't able to produce an heir, let alone a male one."

"So she was the stepmother of the princess?" she asked, just to clarify.

"That would be correct. Please sit down, there's still more to tell," the advisor continued while leading the trapper to a couch.

"Careful, be sure it's something you can get rid of later," the abbot said worriedly.

Baron snarled at the man, but Bearskin rubbed his back in warning.

"Shh, my friend. He's a priest, he can't help it."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" the scrawny abbot demanded, ready to be offended.

"It means that thanks to my curse, you are incapable of being civil to me. For the record, sir, my curse won't touch your furniture or anything that is yours. As you can see, it doesn't even touch my cat," she informed the advisor while scratching Baron's orange fur.

The advisor numbly nodded and gestured for her to sit on a luxurious couch. "Louis, whether you like it or not, we need Bearskin's help. He's the best trapper on the continent and, if you can't stay civil, you should probably take your leave."

The abbot made some outraged sounds, but spared another glare for the cursed woman before stomping out of the room.

"I'm terribly sorry about that, Bearskin," the advisor tried to apologize, but she waved one gloved hand to soothe him, now that she was sitting on the couch.

"I have yet to meet a priest that's polite to me, I'm used to it. Now, back to Princess Blanche?" she gently prodded as Baron sat erect on her lap.

"Thank you," he sighed while sitting on a high back chair. "There was another reason that the queen hated the princess. Queen Isabelle was regarded for years as the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, but as Princess Blanche grew older, it became clear that she would soon surpass the queen in that regard."

Bearskin cocked an eyebrow. "That seems like a shallow reason to hold a grudge." 'The one I have against Sakura is over Machida, not over her looks.'

"It was enough for the queen, I assure you. Please understand, until a week ago when the queen died, I had no idea why Princess Blanche disappeared without a trace two months ago. I had every hand possible out looking for her, but despite our best efforts, we couldn't find her. I couldn't understand the queen during that time; she'd rapidly change between not caring if she was safe and sound to obsessing whether or not we could find her. I talked to her physician about getting her something to soothe her, but it did little good. In fact, it got worse, because there would be times when the queen herself would vanish for hours, only to reappear in her room insisting she had never left."

"… Rather strange behavior for a queen," Bearskin managed to say, although she was bracing for the worst.

"Quite. We're not quite sure how she died, either."

Baron gave an incredulous mew, reminding the two that he was still present.

His keeper gently rubbed his back to assure him he wasn't forgotten. "Surely there was some clue?"

The advisor shook his head in amazement. "There was only her favorite mirror, with the shattered remains surrounding her burned body, although her clothes were still good as new. The servants had heard her give an unearthly shriek and heard flames just before finding her like that, despite the fact that nothing in the room was burning, even the fireplace."

Bearskin leaned back to mull things over, although her flesh was recoiling in horror. 'This stinks of magic.' "Was there anything unusual about that mirror?"

"Not that anyone could tell, other than it was the queen's favorite. We're not even certain where it came from. But back to business; after the queen died, one of our woodsman approached me with information. The queen had ordered him to take the princess with him into the woods and kill her."

Her perfectly white eyebrows shot up, but he wasn't done talking.

"He wouldn't do it, however. He sent the girl into the woods alone to escape the queen's wrath."

"I thought people considered the woods to be haunted," she said carefully.

"That is correct. That is also why I don't think the attempts to find her have been very successful. The soldiers and such are quite reluctant to enter the woods, let alone for stretches of time. You, on the other hand, were born in the woods, were you not?"

"Actually, it was a cave and I've only been in forests for the past three and a half years," she answered in a matter-of-fact kind of tone. She set Baron on the couch so that she could stand up and pace the room. "But you are right about my attitude concerning forests. I've already covered the ground between here and one of your smaller villages, so I already know that she's not there, or at least wasn't there when I passed through." She took her map of Thegui out of the satchel to study it. "If she's somewhere in that forest, I just might find out where before flowers start blooming."

"That's wonderful!" the man exclaimed, but she raised a hand to warn him.

"However, she might not be alive. A man I met had a run-in with wolves in there and he barely survived the encounter. I might only be able to bring back her remains."

Baron nodded soberly.

The advisor gave the cat a strange look, but also stood from his chair to approach her. "At this point, I would be grateful even if you only brought back her bones. We need our princess, even if it's to pay our final respects."

"Very well. I will need to know what she looks like and I will need something she wore on a frequent basis."

He gave her a strange look.

"My nose is sharper than most humans because of my curse," she explained patiently, although she hadn't realized it until after leaving home. "If I know her scent, I might be able to track her faster. My cat's nose isn't half-bad either."

He purred at the compliment and hopped off the couch to rub against one leg affectionately.

"… Our queen found the portraits of the princess quite distressing after she left," the advisor managed to say, gesturing for her to follow him out of the room. "However, I was able to save one of them from the flames. Right this way."

She followed him out of the room with Baron right beside her, walking at a brisk pace in order to keep up with the old man.

It took walking down two more hallways and around another corner to reach an old door.

"Please forgive the mess, this closet is almost never used," he apologized while opening the door and lighting a small candle.

Bearskin entered the small closet, her eyes locked on a large square object covered with an old cloth. Somehow certain that it was the portrait, she grabbed a corner of the cloth and pulled it away.

Eyes like the sky. Lips red as blood. If anyone but her was looking at the portrait, they would have said skin like snow, but it was more like the delicate shade found in fresh cream.

She had been expecting a great beauty. She wasn't disappointed in that regard, but at the same time, what she saw was enough to make her drop the cloth in surprise.

Princess Blanche was a child! Certainly, a beautiful one, but barely even a teenager!

"How long ago was this painted?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Six months ago. If she is still alive, she's just shy of turning fourteen."

"Yet your queen was already worrying about rivalry from her?" Bearskin demanded, barely able to keep her voice masculine.

"I already told you; the king's death unhinged her. Do you wish to look a little longer, or should we proceed to her room?"

"Let's proceed. Coming, Baron?" she asked over one shoulder, since he was still studying the portrait with a strangely sad expression.

"What baron? You know a baron here?" the advisor asked in surprise.

"I was speaking to my cat. Baron?"

He mewed in a comforting manner before catching up to them in a heartbeat and rubbed his body against one of her legs as they walked.

"… Strange cat, that one," the advisor noted numbly as they began climbing another staircase.

"Perhaps, but that's why he keeps me," she answered with a shrug.

"Um, don't you mean that you keep him?"

"No. He's free to leave me any time he pleases. But he chooses to stay, so he keeps me."

He gave her a tired growl before rubbing his body against one leg again.

The advisor gave her another strange look, but did not comment further. "Here is the Princess Blanche's room. I hope enough of her scent is still here."

"If she spent a lot of time in here, there should be enough," she comforted him while opening the door.

It was soon clear that Princess Blanche was not interested in a beauty contest with her stepmother. There were a great many stuffed animals and picture books, speaking louder than words that this was the room of a child.

But since she still planned to find the girl, she entered the room with Baron at her side, taking in a deep, careful sniff.

There were some vague scents from more than one human, but not enough to tell her which was the dominant one. She circled the room carefully, walking even slower in order to open the girl's wardrobe.

She growled with disgust. "Someone has washed her clothes recently. I can't find a scent other than rose soap."

"You can't?" the advisor said broken-heartedly. "If I had known you could do this, I would have told the servants not to-"

"Meow!" Baron called triumphantly, making both the trapper and palace official look over at him.

He was sitting on the canopied bed, nudging a large rabbit toy with his face. "Meow meow!"

"Good work, Baron," she congratulated, barely able to keep her tone masculine as she stepped closer to the bed and held the toy against her face.

Yep, this rabbit had a young girl's scent all over it. This had to have been her favorite toy to sleep with, to still have her scent months later.

She gently set the rabbit on one of the pillows after a few minutes of careful sniffing, allowing Baron to climb up her arm and resume his usual perch on her shoulders. "I think we have everything we need now, don't you?"

He purred the affirmative, rubbing his face against hers affectionately.

She ran her hand over his head while turning to the advisor. "I will do everything in my power to find her, dead or alive."

"The latter is more preferable," he said with a nervous laugh, although his troubled eyes were on her cat instead of her. "Does a large sack of gold and jewels sound all right for payment?"

"It sounds fine, but I'd best be on my way now. It's been a cold winter and she could be in trouble, wherever she is."

ooOoo

There was no scent of the girl in the woods surrounding the castle, so Bearskin needed to move deeper into the forest. Baron was now only rarely on her shoulders, carefully sniffing the areas that were harder for her to get to.

Unfortunately, this terrain had depressingly few places for a tired little girl to seek shelter from the cold. With each day that passed, Bearskin became more and more certain that the young princess had to be dead.

But since she couldn't find so much as human bones, she had no choice but to keep moving deeper into the woods, until the trees were so close together that she could barely see.

She responded by making a torch out of a sturdy branch. "Is it just me, or is this beginning to feel like a hopeless assignment?" she asked as they moved deeper into the woods.

Baron meowed stubbornly as he kept sniffing around the underbrush for a scent.

"I didn't say I was giving up," she defended hotly. "I meant that… well, it's really unlikely that she could survive a winter in here all alone, isn't it?"

He answered with a long, strange meow, one that her mind chose to interpret as a 'maybe'.

"Especially since she's a princess-er, queen… a royal," she sighed, since she wasn't sure what to call the girl at the moment. "Royalty aren't exactly taught how to live off the land."

Baron moved a bit slower, but the next meow sounded like a depressed agreement.

She opened her mouth to make another comment, but never got the chance to.

For at that exact second, a large timber wolf jumped out of the bushes and started running at her terrified cat.

Bearskin didn't hesitate to drop the torch. She slammed her body into the wolf's before it could reach Baron, roaring like a bear as her grandfather's blood began asserting itself in her veins.

The wolf roared back at her as it rolled to its' feet, snarling a warning as it tried to bite her. She responded by kicking it hard in the stomach, following it with a roundhouse to the muzzle.

The wolf lay on the ground in pain, but managed a blood-curdling howl. Other wolves howled back as their voices drew closer.

"Baron, stay close," she ordered, her voice still altered by her grandfather's madness.

But he wasn't obeying! He was frozen in place, staring at her in complete and total shock. Not in the mood to argue with him, she ran up to the cat, swept him into one arm and slipped his body into the satchel without a thought.

Once his comforting weight had disappeared, she knew she was ready to fight the pack as they emerged from the woods. They circled around her, preventing all avenues of escape as they slowly closed in.

'Pretty brave wolves,' she couldn't refrain from thinking, since she had never before met an animal willing to fight her without bait. She pulled out her sword, slowly rotating her fighting stance in case one of them tried to jump her from behind.

One tried just that, making her automatically throw him over her shoulder just in time to use her sword to slash along the side of another wolf.

He howled in pain, which only added to his pack's determination to take her down.

Another bitten shoulder. A clawed up leg. A wolf grabbed her cloak with his teeth to hold her still, but her follow-up technique was nearly as effective on him as it was on humans that grabbed her cloak.

Really, why did people always go for her cloak? It was such an ineffective way of making her be still, it was laughable.

"Stop! I said stop!" a gnarled voice called out from somewhere she couldn't see it.

Miraculously, the wolves immediately backed away from the trapper, their eyes directed behind her. Rubbing her head to battle the headache she always got after an 'episode', she turned around as well. She blinked twice, not quite believing her own eyes.

At first glance, it appeared to be a child. But no child had a beard that long. "Bearskin, I presume?" the tiny man asked tightly, holding her torch while stamping out the few flames that had escaped it.

She nodded, still keeping a hand to her poor head. "And you would be…?"

"It's not important. If you're looking for game, there's not much to be had this deep in the woods. You'd be better off going east of here."

Bearskin shook her head. "The only 'game' I'm after is a young girl by the name of Blanche. Have you seen her?"

The little man stiffened in horror. "Give me one good reason not to ask my friends to kill you," he snarled, holding his staff ready for a fight.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "She's the new queen of Thegui. Her stepmother is dead and the High Advisor asked me to bring Blanche to her rightful home. Her people are quite worried."

He gaped at her. "… The witch is gone?" he whispered hopefully.

The trapper tilted her head at him, not expecting the rude term. "Yes, she's dead. Her body's been burnt to a crisp, but no one knows how or why."

A wide smile overtook his face, just before he began laughing. "I knew she'd go too far one day! Good riddance to bad rubbish!"

She cocked her head at him, but wasn't distracted from her mission. "I will ask again; have you seen the girl?"

His laughter softened, leaving behind a very sad look. "This one's all right, my brothers. I can handle him from here."

One of them gave a fierce growl as he started licking at one slashed leg.

Feeling unusually guilty, Bearskin sifted through her satchel for her biggest jar of healing ointment. "Since it appears the fight was a misunderstanding, I hope this will soothe your friends' pain."

He accepted the jar, opening it for a sniff. His little eyes lit up. "Well! So there is a human that can make a decent healing potion! Apology accepted, I'll use this on them later," he promised while gently setting the jar gently inside his own satchel. "Since you don't work for the witch, I'd be happy to show you where our Snowdrop is."

"Snowdrop?" she asked in confusion.

"Just a nickname we gave her. 'Blanche' seemed a little too formal for the girl, and we didn't want anyone overhearing us say that name, in case there were unfriendly ears about."

"There are more of you," she realized, fetching Baron out of her satchel.

The poor cat was trembling as if from a seizure and his mews were strangely panicked.

"Shh, Baron. Next time I tell you to stay close, I mean it," she scolded, holding him against her good shoulder.

The little man was staring at her cat in shock. "… Yes, there's more of us. Where did you get a bag like that?"

"From a good friend," she answered simply, still running her knuckles over Baron's back in an effort to soothe him, but the poor cat was still shaking like a leaf. "Was it really that bad in there?"

His next meow was of pure horror and he was rubbing his cheek against hers in a desperate attempt to distract himself.

The little man shook his head in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure magic satchels aren't meant to carry living things."

"Maybe not, but I didn't want him getting hurt during the fight. Are we nearly there?"

"It's still a bit of a walk," he sighed, a large dose of melancholy coming into his tone. "I'm afraid there's bad news for the kingdom."

Her blood ran cold. "How bad?"

"Snowdrop's dead. We were about to start the funeral when our friends sensed your presence."