Okay, everybody, get ready for the LORE! This chapter might feel a little heavy with all the LORE I have to drop, so be sure to pay attention! Light warnings for semi-graphic injuries, past deaths, and a heck of a lot of violence. You've been warned! See you at the bottom of the page!
The house was on fire. Reginald raced through the hallways with a damp handkerchief over his nose and mouth, squinting through the blinding flames and thick black smoke as he searched for the door to his mother's bedroom. Pieces of the walls and ceilings collapsed to the floor in bursts of sparks and heat, but he kept moving. Books and furniture and pieces of artwork smoldered into ashes, yet Reginald never stopped. He had to keep moving. He had to save his mother before it was too late. He turned a corner and sobbed with relief; somehow, the door to his mother's bedroom had not yet been licked away by the fire, and he grabbed the doorknob in both hands.
The metal knob was hotter even than the flames roaring around him, and he screamed in pain as a layer of skin ripped away when he fell back. He'd touched it for one mere second, yet he could see the blistering red welts forming across his palms and fingers already, shining wetly in the flickering light. Torn between the pain in his hands and the pain in his heart, he tried to break through the door instead, slamming his body against the wood in a desperate attempt to reach his mother. The door would not give.
"Mother!" He screamed, thrashing against the wood. "MOTHER!" He could picture it all too well: how wickedly beautiful the fire made her look as she melded into the reds and oranges and became one with the ashen furniture. Desperate, he reached once more for the doorknob.
Something grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him backwards. He shrieked as the door flew away from him, getting smaller and smaller until he was looking at the door of one of the farmhouses in Lil' Town. He stumbled around, practically throwing his head about to take in the total, rampaging destruction of his village. Every house was on fire; he could smell burnt bread from Mr. Baker's shop and see the tiny dark figures of his villagers running away as fast as they could, screaming all the while.
A huge, black mare with streaks of fire erupting from its hooves and mane stampeded directly towards him. Upon its back was none other than Terrence Suave, his face shrouded in thick soot as he tossed bottles of wine in random directions. Bursts of strangely colored flames flashed with each broken bottle, the scent bitter and choking. Then the mare was upon him, hooves raised and screaming, and Reginald fell hard against the ground. He looked to see that he had fallen upon his mother's grave. All the flowers and plants he'd worked so hard to grow in her honor were nothing but growing shadows of black ash. He curled around his mother's unmarked stone, hoping against hope that he could protect it just a little longer with his body. "Terrence, please!" He begged, clinging to the stone like a lifeline. "Please stop, Terrence, please-!" The mare's hooves came down like lightning, and he howled.
The hooves never hit their mark. The fire no longer burned. His mother's stone had disappeared. A thick, soft blanket swaddled him tightly, covering his eyes and enveloping him in a peaceful darkness. He squirmed out of instinct, but the blanket held fast. He buried his nose and mouth deep into the softness and breathed. The lightly musky scent was surprisingly pleasant and comforting, and was soon accompanied by an odd but not unpleasant herbal smell. He tentatively allowed himself to relax further. The herbal scent filled his mouth, quenching his many pains and soothing his woes with its warmth. He sighed deeply, and the darkness settled him into a deep, quiet sleep.
LINE BREAK
When Reginald woke up, he was laying in a nest of fabric scraps, empty bowls of soup, and furry blankets. He blinked languidly, staring up at the ceiling above him. His little nest was surrounded by a gauzy purple curtain, torn slightly but letting in a soft light just hidden from view. Why did this room seem familiar?
A warm rush of wind blew against Reginald's cheek, and he looked to see that the furry blankets were, in fact, the beast itself. It had wrapped Reginald in a warm, furry hug, and judging by the steady breaths tickling Reginald's ear, it was fast asleep.
He'd never been this close to the beast before, and Reginald found himself taking in the smaller, finer details. The fur between its nose and mouth was thicker and longer, almost forming a mustache that twitched every so often. Its fur was more colorful than he'd realized; hidden throughout his ginger coat were strands of burgundy and gold, and its hands, though quite similar to a human's hands, featured delicate pink paw pads across the palm and on each section of each finger. Reginald swiped a thumb along one of the pads, then squeezed lightly. It was warm and just a little bit squishy. Surprisingly soft, as well.
He spent a good amount of time just lying there, feeling those paw pads and running his fingers through that thick, beautiful fur. He likely could have done so for the rest of time, but then the hand twitched and closed over his. He looked up to see the beast open its eyes, blinking slowly as its gaze fell upon him. They weren't stormy, but more similar to a deep, cloudy sky that could part at any moment to reveal something wonderful. The beast's dark lips opened to speak…
Only for the loud, familiar blare of Sven's chiming to erupt in the silence. They both flinched and turned to see the hands on Sven's face rotating wildly until he shook himself into silence. It was only then that he noticed that he was not the only one up for the day. "The gentleman is awake," he announced, and the sounds of shifting metal and wood drew Reginald's eye to the other servants.
Geoffrey huffed sharply, and the flame at his top lit up in a blink. Thomas curled and stretched his long body while Carol opened her doors wide as she yawned. Burt, oddly, remained exactly as he was, and Gremlin shook herself out before pacing around Reginald and the beast, whining in curiosity.
Sven lightly smacked Burt on top of his lid, which flung open as a series of discordant notes played out. "What, what's happening?" Burt managed.
"The gentleman is awake," Sven repeated, crossing his decals and tapping one foot in annoyance. "As is the Master; go to the kitchen to fetch them breakfast at once!"
Burt hummed sleepily, then toddled out of the room. It was then that Reginald realized where they were: the room at the back of the estate. "O-oh, um…"
"S'fine," the beast grumbled, arching its back in a long stretch. "Wasn't gonna let ya sleep alone."
"What happened?" Reginald asked quietly, shifting his gaze to the servants as well. "How long have I been asleep?"
"A few days, my good man," Thomas replied, carefully taking some of the empty bowls and stacking them on top of Gremlin. "You gave us all quite a scare."
"You fell into a lake of ice and nearly drowned," the beast grumped, fixing Reginald with a stern look. "Why didn't you look where you were goin'? You could've died!"
Reginald frowned. "Perhaps if you hadn't yelled at me for looking at a rose, that wouldn't have happened in the first place. You called it a "she"; is she alive? Who is she?"
The beast looked flustered. "Why the hell were you callin' for your mother and that jerk who left you to die? You almost fell outta bed a dozen times for it!"
Reginald blinked rapidly. "I did what-? Answer my questions first, you-!"
Sven cleared his throat loudly, drawing their attention. "Cease this bickering at once," he commanded. "It simply isn't gentlemanly!"
"You were kinda the one goading them on before, though," Geoffrey pointed out, giving Sven a quizzical look.
Sven crossed his decals, silent for a moment. "...I am aware," he finally said, "and I apologize profusely for my ill behavior. I was… My attention wasn't…"
"You got caught up in their little competitions," Carol finished, swishing through her clothes carefully, in search of something or another. "We all did."
"You were just excited by everything happening," Burt called, returning to the room with a little more spring in his step and a broom carefully pushing a cart in after him. "You can't blame yourself for that, Sven."
Sven faced away from them all pointedly. "I'm the Master's advisor," he said. "If I can't maintain my own composure, then how am I meant to keep everything functioning peacefully?"
Reginald glanced at the beast, meeting its eyes for a moment before turning back to Sven. "Burt's right, Sven," he said as kindly as he could. "You're only one person. Besides, I wasn't particularly gentlemanly myself; you shouldn't bear my faults like that."
Thomas carefully stretched up the side of the cart and wrapped himself around an aromatic bowl of soup, setting it carefully besides Reginald's head. "It's been a strange time these past few days, sir. Before we all try to pin the blame on ourselves, we should focus on making sure you've recovered properly." He nudged the bowl closer to Reginald, then carefully wrapped around a spoon and dipped it into the herbal broth.
Reginald lifted his hand to take the spoon from him, only to retreat in a flash. Somehow, he hadn't noticed until just then, but he wasn't wearing his gloves, and his hands were on full display-
The beast reached over and gently took a hold of that same hand, pulling it back into the open and gently running the pad on its finger tip over the blotchy, raw-looking skin. Reginald felt his face warm and shivered at the tender touch. "Looks like it hurts," it said quietly.
Reginald stared at his hands for a moment longer, then carefully matched the beast's ministrations. "There are things about you I don't know, and there are things about me you don't know. I propose that we exchange our stories; a truth for a truth. If I answer your questions honestly, will you do the same for me?" The beast searched Reginald's face for a moment; it was unclear what it was looking for. Finally, it nodded. Reginald allowed Thomas to slip a spoonful of broth into his mouth and swallowed it before focusing more intently on the beast. "What would you like to know?"
The beast thought about this for a long moment. "Why did you work for that Terrence guy?" it finally asked.
"Ah," Reginald said, a tired smile quirking on his lips. "That's a rather long story, but it started about five years ago. In my childhood, I was raised by my mother- I never knew my father," he answered before anyone could ask. "We were one of the wealthier families in Lil' Town, and Mother did her best to raise me to be a gentleman that would make something for myself. Unfortunately, just as I'd become old enough to consider how I'd do that…"
He paused for a moment, and Thomas fed him another spoonful of soup. There was an odd touch of sweetness at the end that he hadn't noticed before, and he sighed before continuing. "One night, there was a fire. I never found out how it started, but I awoke to the entire house engulfed in flames. I tried to save my mother, I did, but… all I got for it was this." He brought both of his hands out into the open, turning them over slowly. Even so many years later, they seemed to constantly buzz with a burning chill, like a mix of frostbite and hot stinging nettles.
He pulled them both back under the nearest scrap of fabric. "I'm not entirely sure how, but I awoke sometime later after the fire had put itself out. In an instant, my entire world had gone up in smoke, but still I searched through the ashes, thinking maybe Mother had managed to survive." Reginald blinked firmly. "And that was when I met Terrence."
"He found me clinging to what was left of my mother. He never said a word, but he helped me stand and search for what could still be saved- a few books, a photograph or two, some old jewelry- and then helped me bury her just outside of the Dark Forest. It was only then that he deigned to give me his name, and him, mine."
Reginald smiled fondly. "He made me a member of the Toppat Clan, and for the next two years, I'd experienced dangers and thrills and camaraderie the likes of which I never would have thought possible outside of story books. Terrence eventually put me in charge of Lil' Town, building a house for me and everything! He'd come to visit every so often, but…"
He frowned. "As the years went by, Terrence… how to put it? He started falling prey to his addiction to thrill. He couldn't get enough of the chaos and excitement of adventures, even when it started hurting others. Most recently, Terrence shared his plan to search for the wizard's estate, hoping to find treasure and gold and what have you. I tried to stop him, but he was bound and determined to go through with it, and to bring me along."
Reginald's mouth twitched upwards. "My mother loved flowers; I've grown a garden of all sorts near her grave, but she loved roses most of all. I was elated when I found your rose garden; I thought I could finally give her something she'd always cherished, but then… Terrence left me behind." It was silent for a moment.
"I kept hoping he would come back," he said quietly. "I thought perhaps I'd done some wrong in his eyes, and this was meant to teach me a lesson. I thought he'd save me, or the people of Lil' Town, or both, even. But he hasn't, and now it seems he won't." He breathed a single, humorless laugh. "Perhaps I never meant as much to Terrence as he did to me, or perhaps he simply never cared at all."
The room was quiet as the beast and the servants took in what he'd shared. Geoffrey's candlelight had dimmed, Thomas had lowered his gaze in solidarity, and Carol had crossed her handles silently. The hands on Sven's face spun wildly with emotion as he struggled to stay quiet, and Burt gently nudged into Sven over and over, as if patting his back. Gremlin sat low to the ground, whining on occasion.
"That's a whole lotta truths you just said," the beast after a long moment. Before Reginald could think of how to respond to that, the beast carefully hugged him, the touch light as if it were afraid of crushing him in its arms. Reginald returned the gesture with a little more fervor, taking a few more deep breaths of the warm fur blanketing him.
Finally, the beast let go and leaned back. "Guess it's my turn now. Uh, lemme think…"
"We can help you out, Master," Geoffrey piped up. "I'm the oldest, so I'll start. You see, kid," he turned to Reginald. "A long time ago, before any of us were born, there was this wizard, see? Real powerful, and a real jerk. He decided to build himself a home in the Dark Forest, and enslaved a bunch of humans to make them serve him for generations." Geoffrey swayed around in the direction of the others. "We're the latest of those generations. It's been going on a long time; none of us have ever been beyond the gates."
"Indeed," Thomas said with a sad sigh, then carefully fed Reginald another spoonful of soup. "The wizard would run off for weeks at a time, gathering great power and resources for who knows what ends. We would be left behind to keep house, freedom always just out of reach. By the time we all came around, the wizard had decided to conquer the world; rather grizzly business, that. As you can imagine, none of us here cared for the fellow, so the wizard set out to find someone to be his most loyal henchman." He pointed at the beast. "That was when he found the Master."
Reginald looked up at the beast, who shrugged with a stony look on its face. "Best option, apparently: no parents, no home, nowhere to go and nothing else to do."
"I'm so sorry," Reginald whispered.
"Believe me, I had it easy."
"Through no fault of your own," Carol interrupted, tapping one of her feet quietly against the floor. "To the wizard, we were replaceable. If our numbers dwindled for any reason, he'd either get more from the nearest village or breed us like cattle, or both. The Master, as young as he was, was something for the wizard to mold and shape, a tool he could hone into exactly what he needed. Much more precious, something worth patience and time; as much as an ancient wizard could give, anyway. The wizard taught the Master of loyalty, unwavering allegiance and obedience, while we were tasked with the essentials: feeding, clothing, raising. We could never speak ill of the wizard to him, but we didn't need to. The old coot did whatever he wished with us whenever he pleased, no matter how humiliating or tortuous." She turned to the beast and leaned to the side; Reginald wondered how he was so certain she was smiling at it. "The only good thing that wretched man ever did was bring the Master into our lives. We loved him from the start; he was a good, kind boy, and very observant. Even on the rare occasion that the wizard bothered to hide his cruelties towards us, the Master noticed, and the Master cared."
Burt opened his lid and played a few notes; they sounded hopeful, heroic. "That happened for a while, and before we knew it, it was time for the Master to officially become the ultimate henchman. The wizard had a whole song and dance arranged for the occasion, and made us all come and watch. Probably as a sort of "in your face" kind of thing. Luckily for us, it didn't work out that way. No matter how much the wizard tried to force it, the Master couldn't honestly swear to serve him; seeing him beat us on the daily kinda ruined the whole 'respect' part of the relationship. Unluckily for us, the wizard got pissy about it real quick."
"As punishment for our 'role' in ruining his schemes, the wizard cursed us all," Sven continued. He'd turned away from Reginald and the others at some point, though Reginald could hear the faint whir of his face hands spinning with emotion. Burt gently nuzzled against his side. "We became common household objects, because that was all we were to him; things." He spat the word out, voice trembling a bit, before he took a long, deep breath. "Our Master, in his kindness, tried to make the wizard reverse the spell, but it was no use. The wizard was out of patience with all of us and cursed the Master as well, making him into a beast that he would train like a dog to obey him."
Gremlin barked, drawing everyone's attention to the gauzy curtain at the back of the room. She carefully lifted her cushion to clamp down on the fabric before gently pulling it to the side. The rose still sat in its glass dome, though Reginald couldn't help but notice that more petals had fallen than he remembered.
Sven faced the rose and sighed again, a more resigned but grateful sound. "Before the wizard could do anything, though, one of us rose up: a girl that had been picked up off the street in recent years to help rebuild our numbers. What the wizard hadn't realized was that this girl was a witch, and just before we were all transformed, she cast a spell of her own that drained the wizard of his powers. In a single moment, there was a powerless old man in the midst of the estate, surrounded by generations of rage and sorrow, ready to tear him apart. Discombobulated as we all were, we chased the old man out of the estate to be rid of him once and for all, with our Master at the lead."
Despite the good turn the tale had taken, Sven suddenly began to shake, turning away from everyone once again. Burt nuzzled him in earnest as Thomas leaned towards Reginald and spoke quietly. "Despite our new forms, the old spells that had been cast on us to keep us from leaving still remained. Those of us who made to chase the wizard deeper into the Dark Forest spoke and moved no more. The Master had never had such restraints placed upon him, so he tried to bring those who were still in one piece back into the grounds, but it was too late- they'd forfeited their lives the moment they were not where they were meant to be. Sven's father, the previous advisor, was among them."
Sven sobbed, and Burt began to play a quiet lullaby for him. Reginald covered his mouth, absolutely horrified by what he'd been told. He could only imagine the terror and fear they'd all felt for their entire lives. His own troubles seemed so small by comparison-
Geoffrey clicked his teeth at him. "There's no point in comparing our problems, kid. They're kind of like two fires; they're both big and destructive in their own ways, and trying to say which one is worse just fuels the flames."
Reginald bit his lip, but nodded in understanding.
The beast cleared its throat lightly. "I can take it from here. My- the wizard said the only way to reverse the spells- mine and the other's- was by swearing loyalty to him in mind, body, and spirit. Since we'd chased him out, though, I couldn't do that, and I couldn't leave everyone by themselves in case I didn't come back. So we turned to the witch for help." They all looked back to the rose. Another petal fell from the bloom, followed by that haunting chime Reginald had heard before.
"Apparently, she'd stored the wizard's magic in herself, but it was too much for her. She had to get rid of it, or else she'd destroy the whole place with us in it, but she didn't know how to use that much power in the time she had. At the last second, though, she had an idea." The beast closed its eyes and lifted its chin, reciting from memory: "All our spells shall be reversed, once someone worthy's found. Swear it all to break the curse, your trust and faith be bound. But heed my sacrifice, you lot, seek fast this worthy soul: when all my petals fall and rot, my death resets to old."
Another petal, another chime. The beast looked at Reginald. "As far as we've been able to tell, it seems like the witch gave us a placeholder curse. If I find someone who's "worthy" and swear myself to them in body, mind, and spirit, then we'll all be free. If she runs out of petals, then the curse goes back to what it was, and, well… you can guess what that means."
Reginald flicked his gaze back to the rose. There didn't seem to be a consistent pace at which she lost her petals, but he sensed it was faster than it looked. He then looked at all the servants one by one, landing at last on the beast. "I'm so sorry that happened to you all. I wish I knew how to help, but…" A thought crossed his mind, but he quickly shook it away. "Someone who's worthy of servitude would be hard to find. I can't imagine demanding such loyalties without offering the same in return."
The beast nodded in agreement, then scratched the back of its head sheepishly. "Sorry I kept you away from your village; didn't realize you had so many responsibilities."
"You couldn't have known," he replied, giving his hand a light squeeze. "I wasn't exactly forthright about myself, after all."
"Me neither. Guess we're pretty bad at talking, huh?" Reginald laughed quietly, only to sink back into the nest instantly with a tired groan. The beast leaned over him worriedly. "Hey, what is it? What's wrong?"
"Tired now…" Reginald murmured, his eyelids growing indescribably heavy. "Sorry…"
"You still have much strength to recover," Thomas said. At least, Reginald assumed it was Thomas; the voice was distant and muffled, as if he were underwater.
"Hey, listen." The beast took hold of Reginald's shoulders and shook him gently. "When you're better, I'll let you go back home. Give you supplies, whatever you need. You got it, Reg?"
Reginald smiled, parting his lips to give his thanks, but the darkness buried him deeply before the words could be said.
*Starts pointing at all the characters one by one; they burst into tears when I point at them* YOU get a trauma, and YOU get a trauma! EVERYBODY gets a trauma! WHEEE!
So yeah, this was fun to write. Gotta put the blorbo's through the horrors every now and then; it builds character! Literally! Reginald gets to have hypothermia-induced nightmares of his dead mom and Terrence, but it's okay because the beast gives him a big ol' hug and the servants feed him lots of soup with healing herbs in it! The servants get to talk about their eternal damnation as the property of the wizard, even after he's run off into the woods without his magic! The beast gets to share his crippling, time-restricted responsibility to find someone worthy of serving before they're all doomed forever! The witch gets to die slowly in complete silence! Hooray!
Speaking of the witch; Witch jumpscare! I mentioned her in the tags, but this is the first time we learn who/what she is! Since the original curse was only supposed to be broken when the beast swore fealty to the wizard, it was up to the witch to put in a placeholder for as long as she could, just to give everyone even a smidgen of hope. If the beast finds someone worthy and swears to serve them in mind, body, and spirit, then everyone's saved! Who could that worthy someone be, though? It'd have to be someone very special... too bad Reginald's so ordinary, huh?
I'm not sure if it comes across clearly enough, but just in case: the reason Sven takes his job as advisor so seriously, even to the point of openly scolding his master, is because he essentially inherited the position from his father once he turned into a lifeless dinner plate or fork or something. He's got to be the best advisor ever, to prove he's worthy of taking his father's place, even if it was forced upon him (or did he force himself to take the role?).
Anyway, next time: stuff and things will happen! Will Reginald return to Lil' Town immediately, or will his weak body force him to stay a little longer? Will he return at all? Find out... next time! Leave a review if you liked this, and I'll see you next week. Until then!