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Chiaria yawned loudly as she woke up the next morning. She was still tired, and decided to simply lay in the glittering sunlight on the bed and relax. Toryc was asleep on the bed next to her. They had stayed up talking most of the night.

She wondered briefly if he harboured any feelings for her, but dismissed it. He was quiet around her, shy, yes. But that didn't have to mean anything. She then wondered if he was one of those types that liked males. That would be interesting to see, wouldn't it? How would that even work?

Figuring that it wouldn't matter anyway, she sighed and rolled onto her side, closing her eyes again. She could probably sleep a little longer. She dearly hoped so, anyway.

* * *

"Time to go! Let's get up and get moving, shall we?" Neyin groused tiredly, feeling quite sure that her new master - Chenin - had no right to sound quite that cheerful so early in the morning. She also felt, however, that it would be better to obey and get ready to leave rather than delay and face the consequences.

She stood up, wincing lightly as she did so, muttering under her breath as she dressed in her day clothes. Maybe she could get some sleep along the way to wherever they were going. She looked around, noting that all of the others in the room were waking up as well. Makaz, Shaga, Cesava, Des'kava, and some of Chenin's servants - a Mogram female with black and white fur, a female Ashnavar, her dark red, fox-like fur well groomed, and a perpetually-silent female Phelgon with light brown fur - her features were distinctly wolfish, which meant that she was a pureblood, which was rare among servants. Most masters bred their Phelgons with Ashnavar, which granted a hybrid creature that was generally considered more attractive.

She wandered out of the room with the others to meet everyone else up in the Great Hall. Makaz, Zakam, Shaga, Cesava, Des'kava, Chiaria, Toryc, Kyarn, Traynor, Coldheart, and those servants of Chenin that she had seen before all milled about with her in the expansive room. She studied those she did not know intently.

The Mogram was tall and at least relatively well-muscled, by her standards anyway. Her black and white fur was long and silky-looking, and she held herself proudly and calmly, though the hints of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was dressed in robes parted at the front.

The Ashnavar was smaller than most of the servants there, and stayed apart from the rest of the group. Her fur was slightly shorter than the Mogram's, and it was of a dark red-brown colour. She seemed nervous and uncertain, in sharp contrast to many of the other servants, who held themselves with professional poise, which indicated she was a relatively new servant. She was dressed loosely in a tattered cotton shirt and trousers - evidently, she was a very new servant.

The Phelgon was taller than both of the others, standing almost six and a half feet tall - she seemed to almost rival Coldheart for size, in height at least. She looked pretty thin, though not malnourished. Her green eyes glittered with curious excitement as she looked around, practically bouncing on her heels as she did so. Her brown fur was thick and heavy, though she apparently wasn't bothered by it. She was dressed in robes of a similar cut to the Mogram, though they were tailored to her build.

She noticed that, curiously, Zakam was casting odd looks over at Kyarn. He slid over to the robed mage and nudged him with his elbow and grinned slyly, for which he received a firm smack on the snout and a low word of admonishment.

Neyin raised a brow in surprised amusement. She hadn't figured either of them to be the type to favour males. It surprised her more with Zakam than Kyarn, since Zakam was Makaz's brother, and Makaz seemed to be interested in her, and she figured most sibling shared the same orientation as their kin. Well, maybe they both were interested in males and females alike? That would be interesting to see. Strange, but interesting. And Kyarn? She couldn't figure out anything about that one, so she refused to let any information he let go faze her.

She just wondered where all of this stuff was going to lead them.

* * *

Chiaria also saw Zakam nudge Kyarn, and she tried her best to stifle a little giggle. Her best was not quite up to the task, and she snickered for a second or two before she managed to regain control of herself. Toryc cast her an odd glance, but she ignored that.

She had been right. Kyarn had entirely different reasons than those he had stated as to why he wanted that toy. Oh, that was so interesting to think about! Him and Zakam both? She'd caught a brief glance of Zakam naked a few days before, when he was changing before he was to get to bed, and she'd been rather impressed with what she saw, and found herself wondering what kind of size Kyarn packed in that particular department.

For that matter, she found herself wondering what exactly Toryc had. She'd probably end up seeing it in person at some point or another, she decided, so it didn't matter to wonder right now. She'd find out.

She was distracted from her happy thoughts when Gardin Chenin came walking down the stairs, still dressed as he had been before, escorted by the aging priest with his walking stick.

"Is everyone prepared to leave?" He asked of Traynor as he descended, adjusting his hat lightly.

"Yes, of course they are. Where are we going?" Used to being in charge, the young noble still had trouble acting as an underling to the more powerful merchant.

Fortunately for him, however, Chenin did not seem to mind his blunt statement, and simply smiled before turning to address all of them at once.

"We are going to the town ofNerissa. I'm assuming most of you know where that is?" He paused to let Traynor's ex-servants nod their agreement before continuing. "It is going to take a bit longer for us to get there than it would from the Genvi estate, but such things cannot be helped. The wagons are already waiting for all of us outside, so take anything you need and get inside, hm?" With that short speech concluded, he nodded as well and simply ducked outside to, apparently, the wagons.

Chiaria simply grabbed the bag she had thoughtfully packed for herself, and followed several of the others out while the rest of the group rushed to grab whatever they needed. From this estate to the town that had been set as the destination was a long trip, and would almost guarantee spending a night out on the road - a frightening prospect for many of the servants, who very rarely spent time outside of the admittedly comfortable confines of the manor in which they used to live.

When Chiaria stepped outside, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight, she saw that there were, in fact, four separate wagons. The one in the lead was no doubt the cart Chenin and his fellow humans would spend their time in - it was an ornate thing, no doubt equipped with the latest conveniences for them to enjoy. Two others happened to be long, low structures simply mounted on wheels - servants' quarters, it would appear. The fourth one seemed to be a mobile kitchen or market stall that would be carted along with the small caravan.

"Ah, greetings, my dear." Chenin smiled at her calmly. "You'll be in the third wagon with the other females, unless you have objections?"

She had none. She slinked away, still embarrassed by the way the merchant treated her, and hopped up the short stairs into the wagon to which she had been instructed to report to.

The insides of the wagon were simple - beds all along the side with a dresser at the end for the inhabitants to store anything they would need. As she picked out a spot furthest away from the door, the others started filing in after her, claiming their own beds. She ended up next to the other Ashnavar, who smiled shyly at her.

"I... I don't think, uh, that we've met. Not properly..." The other female stuck her hand out. "I'm Naiya."

"Nice to meet you." Chiaria smiled. She was kind of pretty. Chiaria found herself wondering if Naiya was interested in any of the males that Traynor used to own. Or... maybe the females? That was a strange thought. She had heard of such things before, but never acted out on the thoughts with anyone. Still... She thought briefly about the toy she had acquired from Ralph that, for a reason she couldn't fathom, she had brought along. It was sitting in her bag. Would Naiya enjoy it? She felt her cheeks flush crimson under her fur at the image. She would be lying if she said she'd never teased herself while thinking of some of the glances she'd gotten of Des'kava's body. Why not act out with this female?

Maybe when nobody else is around. She shocked herself with the powerful attraction the thought held for her.

"Uhm..." Naiya looked around, awkwardly, and only then did Chiaria realise they still had their hands clasped. She released the other female swiftly. "I'm so sorry! I got lost in my thoughts." She glanced away, hoping that Naiya wouldn't have caught on to what kind of thoughts those were.

By all appearances, she had not, as Naiya just smiled a bit and sat down, and for that Chiaria was glad. She sat down on her bed, sighing quietly as she rubbed her temples. She hadn't really felt like that before. Was something wrong with her?

No, she decided as she observed her companion sitting on her own bed, running a hand over the sheets gently. It wasn't just her. Nothing was wrong with her. She just felt... different about Naiya. But was that really so bad?

* * *

Zakam sighed and lay down on the bed next to his brother's, thinking intently. What he had seen under Kyarn's mask still surprised him, no matter how much he thought of it. Great fathers above, he had imagined many things lurking under the plain grey ceramic, but that? Never.

He remembered the promise Kyarn had forced him to make, to never tell what he had seen, what Kyarn's face looked like. But still, the thought... Gods, how had he never realised it? How had he been so foolish as to not think of something as simple as that?

He was still sorely tempted to tell his brother the truth about the mysterious Phelgon in the black robes and mask, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to betray Kyarn's trust. It would just be... wrong.

He rubbed his crotch briefly - the tight pants of the dress garb that he had been forced to wear pinched in a most inappropriate place - and closed his eyes as he prepared to sleep away the long trip to Nerissa.

* * *

Traynor sighed and shifted as the wagons pulled up in front of the expansive - and, most likely, expensive - purple-painted brick building that had been established by the side of the road. A sign staked into the ground identified it as "The Purple Pearl", an inn or tavern of some kind. Chenin hopped down and began guiding the wagons and the horses that pulled them towards the nearby carriage house. Traynor, being a man of the times as he was, had heard far-fetched rumours of wagons that pulled themselves, using steam power, but even he didn't think anything would ever really become of them - why would anyone want to rid themselves of a perfectly good horse?

He knocked on the doors to the servants' quarters wagons and then stepped away as they pulled to a stop, being sure to knock loudly - the servants, no doubt, would want to be awake so that they could grab some food and drink for the night. It was probable that they would stay here rather than in the tavern, since there were so many of them, but food and drink could almost certainly be provided.

He led several of them - Des, Chiaria, Makaz, Zakam, and Kyarn were the first ones out, and Chenin brought Coldheart along a second or two later - into the dimly lit common room beyond.

The room was unusual to say the least - it was indeed dark, lit only by multi-coloured lamps along the walls - either magical or technological, Traynor didn't have enough understanding of either to really say. The room was tiled in obsidian stone, which reflected all manner of lurid colour from the lights on the walls. A bar separated one section from the rest, cut from the same stone as the walls, floor, and ceiling. Something else wasn't quite right, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on...

* * *

Good gods, they're all males. Where are the females? Makaz gawked at the inhabitants of the strange purple building in utter bewilderment. It was true, there were no females of any species in sight - only males, dressed in all manner of... strange equipment, made from leather, looking tight and restricting. Some of them were sitting close to each other, tightly packed in at the spacious tables. Many of them stopped and stared at the group as they entered and found seats of their own.

Oh no. This isn't one of those bars, is it? Makaz froze in something like horror as the realisation smote his mind. It was all too probable that these males were, in fact, interested in other males. He looked around again.

Yes, they were definitely packed in tightly, in their similarly tight outfits. Tight outfits, he noticed, that couldn't quite disguise the shape of their masculinity. He nearly gagged at the sight, but he continued looking around instead. Des'kava and Chiaria were sitting together, and some of the males had engaged them in excitable conversation - and they didn't seem to care that they were females, which further reinforced his growing suspicion. Even as he saw all of this, he noticed something else, something that struck him as all too unlikely, even though he watched it unfolding before his very eyes - his brother, Zakam, was walking up the stairs with Kyarn. Holding hands.

He put his head down and groaned loudly.

* * *

Toryc stepped out into the upstairs hallway, trying to find a place where he could rest his head for the night, still thinking of it as a normal tavern or inn.

He knocked on one of the doors - labeled three - and receiving no answer, he shrugged and pushed it open. It wasn't locked.

He gasped as it swung inwards easily, surprised at what he found.

Zakam was entangled with a grey-furred female on the bed, grunting and moaning in their sensual embrace.

At first, Toryc was prepared to simply shut the door and leave, but then he noticed something else. This was the first female he had seen in the building apart from the ones that had come with them, and he'd never seen her ever before. Where had she been at?

He opened his mouth to ask before he saw one last thing, by the foot of the bed, something startlingly familiar.

Folded-up black robes, and on top of them was a plain, simple grey ceramic mask, shaped specifically for a Phelgon's long muzzle.

Kyarn and Zakam looked up guiltily from the bed, and their eyes glittered in the darkness with shame.

"What in the name of the Great Fathers, Zakam?" Toryc asked, shocked as he closed the door. Kyarn was a she? How did she possibly keep that kind of information a secret?

"Just... don't ask! Go. Please." Zakam asked pleadingly as he rolled over, off of her, and tried to cover - in vain - his mating tool.

Toryc, of course, wasn't particularly interested in looking at that (though he was mildly ashamed to find that his own, if he remembered it correctly, was a bit smaller), but he did sneak a quick glance at Kyarn's slender form before she pulled the blanket around it, her purple eyes flashing with reproach.

"Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going. Just, uh, have fun, you two. Be sure not to be left behind."

"One other thing, Toryc." Kyarn's true voice, bereft of the effects of the amulet, was soft and quite obviously feminine.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone what you saw, okay?"

"Of course not." He turned and left.