FSE

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[Author's Note]: I'm not so happy with this chapter. It advances the plot and establishes setting, so I feel it's necessary, but it's not the most interesting part of the story unless you're into mystery. That's why I've waited to upload it until Chapter 5 was done too, because I feel they marry up quite nicely and I'm trying to avoid submitting huge chapters. Nothing much more to say other than the evolution of Kyren's character continues here. For those left baffled by certain events, don't worry. All shall be revealed in time...

Chapter 4: Echoes of the Past

I wish I could say everything got better after my escape from the Domestication Centre, that all my problems were over and I lived happily ever after. But as many of you out there know, life doesn't work like that at all.

The journey was many, many hours long. In fact, it was almost morning by the time we arrived at our destination. Most of the others had slept on each other's shoulders or cross-armed and upright in their seats on the truck. Some of the smaller children had even snuggled up in the laps of older Panthren who held them tightly so as to keep them from falling as the vehicle bumped and rattled down bumpy dirt paths and zoomed along long expressways. Most clearly knew each other and were well acquainted and it was easy to identify which had been trained for indoor servitude and who were destined to be labourers from the way each was dressed and spoke. I had been forced to sleep on the floor of the truck at the times when I could bear to, there being neither enough room to sit nor the willingness of anyone to let me sleep in their laps, even if I had possessed the courage to ask. Their reactions to my presence were not all that unexpected.

"What in Calael is that thing doing here?" one of the older servant girls had trumpeted snootily.

"They said there was one, but I never believed it," scoffed a labourer between chewing on some sort of gooey, sugary pulp he had tucked away in his pocket.

"Uh, its filthy and it stinks," a younger boy said, covering its snout. "Was it raised by Boaren?"

Most of the night I spend sitting at the back of the truck, enjoying the wind whisking through my fur and staring up at the night's sky, wondering which one I had come from to arrive on this world. Of course, I never wanted to go back. This was my home now, for better or worse. There was nothing left for me up there.

We arrived at the gates of the Telequinn estate an hour before dawn. The large, wrought iron monoliths rolled back at the bidding of an array of Panthren manning or patrolling the perimeter of a security checkpoint. They were dressed in dark blue uniforms that consisted of trousers and shirts with the label 'Private Security' printed on them and were armed with minimal force deterrents such as pepper spray and batons, and a few with more serious hardware, such as sidearms and even a few ion blasters, although I didn't understand what they were at the time. They nodded respectfully at the Telequinns' car as it rolled up through the gates and only did a courtesy I.D. check of the driver, whom they were clearly familiar with. But when a few security officers flicked their torches about in the back of the truck, waking most of the sleeping children up, seeing me forced them to give pause to their speedy inspection.

"What is this doing in here?" one said, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and motioning to haul me out of the truck.

"Wait," called out another guard, who looked to be their superior. "Lord Telequinn just said there's supposed to be a bleached in there."

"You're kidding?" The chief looked at me with a half scowl, eyeing my small body up and down.

"No, I'm not." The other guard looked at me for a moment, then slung me back inside. From the front, I could hear the quiet snickering of other children.

We immediately drove on, but it was long after sunrise when we actually reached the grounds of the Telequinn's large stately home proper. Between there and the gate were miles of rolling fields and forests, all enclosed within the walls of the estate. As we got closer and the new morning sun burned low on the horizon, shedding its renewing glow on the land, we started to see people emerging amongst the neatly cut and furrowed crops of exotic spices and herbs I would later learn had been imported by the family from other continents and even other worlds. But what caught my attention was that these were not Panthren working the fields, like we had been so used to. These things were far larger than any Panthren I'd ever seen, colossal creatures, like moving mountains of flesh and muscle. All I could distinguish clearly was the thick, pointed horns spearing out from where their ears should be. I only had the briefest chance to watch them go by before other curious children clogged the doors and obscured my view. Each of us wanted to know the same thing? What were these things? Why were they here?

"They're Boaren," said one of the few children who'd remained in their seats near the front of the vehicle, clearly uninterested in the spectacle. "Ain't none of ya' seen a Boaren before? They was everywhere on Tylas."

So that's a Boaren? I thought. I'd heard mention of them so many times before, usually in jest or as an insult but almost always in a negative manner. There'd never been any Boaren in the Centre, nor any I could remember from where I came from. I wondered why, seeing clearly that a single one could have done the work of a dozen or more of us.

The sun was arching up into the sky by the time we reached our final destination. The spectacle was lessened slightly by how we could only view out journey in retrospect, watching what had already passed us by rolling away from the back of the truck. But when we finally came to a stop, were briskly ordered to disembark and forced to gather in a tight group on the gravel driveway before the front of the house, I saw the Telequinn's home proper. A huge manor house, five stories high and a couple hundred feet across, stretched out before us. Its dozens of windows panes on this side of the house alone were spotless, all set in ornate, hand-carved stone frames of columns and vine leaves. The ground floor was set back slightly from the rest of the building, supported by large marble pillars to create a wide veranda that shielded its occupants from the rain as they stepped out of the huge front doors. From these similarly lavish doors, varnished oak doors flanked by two stone columns, emerged a number of smartly dressed, well groomed male and female Panthren. They arrayed themselves in two lines either side of the doorway, leading into the courtyard, facing inwards. Lord Telequinn and his son had already stepped out of their vehicle, assisted by two waiting valets in sapphire blue waistcoats who held open their doors and held their personal belongings for them. They then stood at the foot of the front steps, composing themselves - Vayren brushing down his knees and Lord Telequinn straightening his jacket and sleeves. Then the doors to the house opened and the lady of the house emerged. She wore a long, satin dress made up of a spectrum of blues and trimmed with gold. It was a striking contrast with the deep, earthy brown of her fur. Atop her head was a wig of tall, braided black hair that amusingly looked a swirl of ice cream. She strode down the steps, lifting her dress and exposing her blue high heels and came to a stop before her husband.

"Darling, you've returned," she said in a soft, aristocratic voice. "It is so good to have you back."

"I am glad to be home," he said, taking her by the hands. It was a clear, public display of family strength and security and, for a boy who had not ever experienced true affection before and didn't know any different, it didn't strike me as being artificial at all.

"And Vayren, sweetheart," she said, crouching down to speak to him, her dress flattening across the bright, beige coloured gravel. "How did you enjoy meeting all the children? Did you find yourself a wonderful new friend?"

"Yes Mother, I did," Vayren replied eagerly, taking her by the hand. "Do you want to see?" he said, pointing in our direction. The other around me all gave each other sideways glances, each wondering if another was the one he was talking about. It was an extremely awkward situation, lessened only by my ability to disappear under the height of some of the older servant boys and girls.

"Come Vayren, we've had a long journey. The children need time to settle in first," his father said. Then he turned to his wife and said quietly "I need to speak with you in private. But first I need to see Jonathon." His wife looked at him inquisitively but the look was gone as quickly as it came.

"Of course, dear," she replied. "Come along Vayren," she said, turning and mounting the steps again, a hand maiden following quickly in her wake. Vayren bounded up the stairs after her, turning briefly and waving in our direction.

"See you soon, Kyren!" he called out. This made me blush and shrink away more as the others in the group now openly began to question who he was talking to.

"Bring them. Servants' entrance," Lord Telequinn directed to the remaining waist-coated gentlemen. Some of the children began to murmur questions about what was happening, but were stifled by pointed whispers by the children who had been schooled in the activities and etiquette of noble households.

We were led around the side of the house, which sat on the edge of a neatly trimmed, grassy slope that looked out over an area of gardens equal to the size of a small forest. Some children cooed in awe at the sight of rows and rows of perfectly rimmed hedgerows with expensive marble archways and pillars turning what looked like a symmetrical hedge maze into something far more lavish and decorative. Leading down to these gardens was a zig-zagging line of steps, flanked at every right angle by large statues of Panthren in respectable attire or in suits of what could surely only have been metallic armour. I wondered at who they might be, but more on the purpose of it all. Everything in the Centre had a purpose, some practical use or function. I couldn't understand exactly what these sparkling stone edifices and seemingly seedless rows of vegetation offered.

Eventually we rounded to the back of the house, where a large lawn of equally green, neatly trimmed grass stretched out for hundreds of feet in width and length, level with the ground floor of the manor house. And like the gardens, apart from the odd gardener or landscaper maintaining it, it was devoid of any activity whatsoever. And then Lord Telequinn disappeared down a small flight of stone steps through a small entrance at the back of the house. The waist-coated men earnestly shepherded us inside and into a long room with an equally long table, at which sat dozens of male and female Panthren ranging from my age all the way to adulthood. The room itself was quite dark, with only squat little windows sitting in the top corners of the room that were above ground level. It seemed to serve as a communal area, as many of the Panthren were either sitting and eating some sort of stew with bowl and spoon or playing a game with small, equally sized pieces of card that had numbers and pictures printed on them. That was, of course, until the Master of the house stepped in. Now they had all risen from their seats and were either bowing or curtseying rather stiffly.

"Might I enquire as to the whereabouts of Mr. Gatson?" Lord Telequinn asked.

"He was having a private word with Mister Dasko, my lord," said one of the young men nervously. "I shall inform him you wish to see him." With that he dutifully bowed and darted out into an adjoining corridor. After we had finished being herded into the room, it fell uncomfortably silent. Lord Telequinn stood tall and composed, his paws held at the small of his back, perfectly statuesque, not shifting or moving an iota. The servants of the house were not equally as well practiced, occasionally scratching nervously or shifting their weight to either side. The children and I were the worst, some occasionally murmuring questions and quickly being reprimanded with a quiet Shh! from others.

After a few minutes, the young man returned and stood with his chin up at the side of the door he entered through. Behind him followed an older man with an odd coloured fur, somewhere between beige and tan. But the truly odd thing was the curly white wig with a piny pigtail that he wore on his head, obscuring his ears. He wore brown crocker trousers with a matching canvas vest over a newly cleaned a pressed white shirt with brown and taupe spat boots. He held his composure spotlessly as he bowed to Lord Telequinn, holding one paw in the other gracefully, his tail wagging slowly and deliberately behind him.

"Greetings your lordship," he said in that typically snooty, high-browed butler tone. "And welcome home."

"It is good to_be_ home, Jonathon," replied the lord of the house. "I hope there have not been any problems in the time I was away."

"Now at all, sir. I trust these are the new work hands and servants you wish me to prepare?"

"Indeed."

"Did Master Vayren discover a suitable companion this time?"

"Ah, yes. About that..." Lord Telequinn turned towards us. I could barely see them now as some shuffled under his gaze, embarrassed. "Step forward please, Kyren," he said, motioning with his outstretched paw. The group collectively exchanged glances, waiting to see who would move. I inwardly took a deep breath and stepped forwards, shaking. It took a few seconds for the taller boys and girls in front of me to realise why I was trying to push my way passed. Then, as I stepped to the front of the pack, I could see every eye in the room traced on me. "Yes, yes, step forward," Lord Telequinn said impatiently. Head down, tail curled around my leg, I strode up beside the man. Lord Telequinn put both his paws on my shoulders and stood behind me, making me feel yet more uncomfortable, least of which because of the other memories of being powerless to move it evoked in my mind. I shivered slightly.

"This is Kyren and I would like that you tend to him in the same manner as Master Ulrich." A lopsided smile was stretching across Gatson's maw as he looked down at me. He released a controlled laugh - muted, suppressed, more like a huff than a true display of amusement - as he looked up.

"Surely his Lordship is joking," he chuckled.

"Do I appear to be joking, Mr. Gatson," Lord Telequinn said icily. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifted from that of respectful reverence to quiet dread. I gazed down at the floor, fidgeting with the end of my tail in both paws. There were a few moments of silence as Mr. Gatson stared back at his master with hints of both shock and aggravation in his eyes. "Is there a problem?" Lord Telequinn continued. I looked up and from the way Gatson peered at me from the corners of his eyes - not moving his head, looking down his snout - it was clear that there was.

"Not at all sir." He snapped his fingers at me and pointed to a spot next to his shoe. "Come here please Master Kyren." I plodded over and stood facing back at the other children, their glares reminiscent of those back at the Centre after Master Warris had saved me; ignorant, confused, agitated at what seemed to them a clear dismissing of their honour. "Is there anything else I should be made aware of, my lord?" he asked, the good mood by which he'd originally received word of his master's returned clearly evaporated.

"No. Everyone else is to be assigned to the station for which they have been allotted." The way he said that made me feel increasingly nervous about the reprisals that would follow this clear upheaval of the house's class structure. I came to the conclusion, for the second time in my life, that nothing had changed.

"Very well sir. Hawson, Delusa. Take these children to the west-wing dormitories and get them cleaned and settled. I shall make sure Master Vayren's new... acquaintance... is suitably prepared for his new role." With that, Gatson put a hand on my back, causing me to flinch slightly, and I was pushed towards the doorway into the hall.

I was perplexed when Mr. Gatson stopped by a small device on the wall that looked like a photo frame, but had a moving face on it that he could speak to. It was like magic. There was nothing like that in the Centre so far as I saw. Then I was being led through long, winding, mazelike corridors and up flights of stairs that all looked the same, passed the perplexed stares of other servants and caterers of the household. Eventually I was stopped before a room with large double-doors made of the same wood as the walls, camouflaging it slightly against my view. Mr. Gatson pointed to a spot near the wall.

"Wait there," he said sharply. I did as I was told as he rasped on one the door. A few moments later, a stocky Panthress opened it from the inside. She was wearing a white apron and a white maid's mob cap and spoke in the same accent as the other occupants of the house, but with less elocution and class.

"Ah, Mr. Gatson," she said in a voice like. "Th' bathin' room all done up n' ready fur th' lil' tyke. Where is he?" Mr. Gatson said nothing, only nodded his head in my direction. She looked, then tilted her head to one side, her chubby cheeks warbling as she spoke. "Cor, blimey. Yer weren't jokin' bout the colour. The master's gone off 'is bloomin' top he has." The way she spoke was confusing and unsettling. The intensity of her voice made me think she was angry, but the look on her face suggested something more akin to bewildered surprise. "I'll have Darcia take care of 'im. OH DARCIA!" she called back into the room. From inside I heard a quieter voice reply.

"Yes Miss Rowan?"

"Come 'ere girl. I won't be speakin' through a wall at ya." I heard slight footsteps approaching and a younger, thinner woman half-emerged from the door.

"Yes ma'am?" she asked.

"Mr. Gatson needs Master Vayren's new guardian 'ere all clean n' proper," Miss Rowan said. Miss Darcia peered around the corner, first further up the hall, then down towards me to see who they were talking about.

"Oh my-" she said, putting her paws to her lips and the slightest of surprised hops.

"Well? Get to it girl. We ain't got all day"

"I will be here to collect him once I am done with my introduction to the other new arrivals," Mr. Gatson said and paced back down the hall, savouring a disapproving glance at me as he passed.

"This way, Master Kyren," Miss Rowan boomed, holding the door open for me as I followed the younger, daintier Miss Darcia into the room. The look on her face was more pitying than out rightly hostile.

The inside of the room was large, with a long bench and overhanging towel rack sitting in the centre. To either side, sectioning off the room into three parts, were two long wooden dividers. Miss Darcia led me to the back of the room and around the bend of the left divider to reveal a large, square pool of water and white foam with a raised lip. I stopped and stared for a moment at it. Miss Darcia noted the confusion on my face as she tested the water.

"What's the matter? She asked.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a bath, silly. Haven't you ever had a bath before?" she asked innocently, not at all expecting my reply.

"No," I said innocently. She was clearly taken aback by this.

"You- Oh my... Um... Well, a bath is something you have when you want to keep yourself clean. It gets all the dirt out of your fur and is more hygienic than licking yourself." Seeing the confusion in my face, she looked around for some sort of imaginary assistance. It was clear from her face that she was coming to the realisation that I was backwards. In all honesty, she probably wasn't that wrong.

"Listen," she said softly. "I need to get you bathed and changed or we'll upset Mr. Gatson. You don't want to do that to happen, do you?"

"No," I said, shivering partly at the idea of incurring another person's wrath, but also at the manner in which she asked her question.

"Okay," she said more confidently. Now, take off those filthy clothes and I'll help you in."

"What?" I asked in a small whimper, an icy chill filling my gut. "I don't wanna take 'em off." Darcia looked at me again, puzzled.

"Don't be silly. You can't take a bath in dirty clothes. How are you supposed to get clean? That's how bathing works." Somewhere in my mind, that made sense. I could see the water getting dirty from the dust that had already accumulated on my garments. Shyly, reluctantly, I peeled off my clothes, covering myself as I went. Once I was stripped down to my naked fur, you could see just how dirty my fur really was and how patchy I looked.

"Okay," she continued. "Now let's get you in. Stand here at the edge." I walked coyly to the edged and peered in. "Right, here we go," she said, reaching down and taking me under the arms and lifting me up. That's when a sharp, painful prickling ran through my arms and my hearts inexplicably started to race.

"Ow, it 'urts!" I cried. "No, stop!"

"What? I'm not-" Darcia began. I began to kick and thrash, feelings of dread suddenly flashing through my body.

"No! Stop! Let go!" I screamed, flailing my arms and kicking out. Miss Darcia yelped and let go and I immediately retreated to the nearest corner of the room and huddled there, cradling myself and shivering.

"Miss Rowan! Miss Rowan!" Darcia screamed in fright and ran from the room. I heard the raised voice of the large woman a minute later, outside in the corridor, as she returned with Miss Darcia sputtering a nervous account. Then they crashed into the room and rounded the corner.

"Where's the lil terra!" Miss Rowan boomed. Seeing me, still hunched in a corner holding myself, she thudded over with a stern look on her face. "Listen you! I won't 'ave you disruptin' this 'ouse and scaring my girls. Now you get in that bath an' do as you're told."

"But it hurts," I whimpered.

"Stop makin' excuses an-" she began, reaching forward and grabbing me by the wrist. I looked up at her and tried to avoid her grip, but it was no use. But as she pulled on my wrist, I let out a howl of pain as a scolding sensation flashed over where she touched... And for just an instant, I thought I saw a flash of colour in her eyes that I hoped I'd never see again... Letting go, she drew back in shock and I snapped my paw back and nursed it in my other, waiting for the stabbing feeling to subside. For a few moments the pair just stared on in awe, then Miss Rowan turned to Darcia and said "Go fetch Mr. Gatson. Now."

Mr. Gatson came and went and then, a few hours later, I was taken to see a private doctor who had been called out to the house. He examined me with metal devices and by asking me questions whilst poking and prodding me. When he put his paw on me, I felt sick and uncomfortable, but the sensation of being jabbed with pins didn't manifest. He disappeared and a private meeting was held whilst I sat nervously in a back room for over an hour. Mr. Gatson was the one who came back for me and he led me up to the bathing room again. But this time a boy of about sixteen with short purple fur was left to wash me. When he picked me up, there was the temporary feeling of nausea again and I couldn't wait to be out of his grasp. The desire to be left alone didn't subside until the whole thing was over. The feeling of a stiff-bristled brush scrubbing my skin and the discomfort of fingers in my hair as washed it and tugged on it was upsetting. But none of it was quite as bad as that initial, acidic feeling. Once it was all done, Mr. Gatson came to receive the report of the young man subjected to the task. Upon hearing the news, I was permanently assigned a male bather until it was deemed that I was capable of grooming myself in the proper, respectful manner expected by the Telequinn house.

The bathing incident was never mentioned again...