The Desert Feran, ongoing

[Evilhumour]

Chapter one

A long time ago, when the Desert Ferans were nomads, traveling through the harsh lands of the Great Eternal Desert for food and water, there was a clan that had broke away from old customs. This clan, known as the duel edge tribe, had used a small stream along the foothills of the Endless Mountains to establish a kingdom. This is a story, but not our story. Our story belongs to the grandson of the chief that made the first kingdom of the Eternal Desert.

It was not a different morning in the Great Eternal Desert. The sun was bright as it rose and the ever-present lack of clouds made the many wandering tribes and the only kingdom wish for the night to come back. In the only kingdom of the Great Eternal Desert and in the only town of the kingdom, many used the rising sun as an indicter to awake and meet the needs of the their town. For some, it was to go the forges and tend to their work, building whatever was needed. For some, it was to go out and gather food. For some, it meant that they were needed to relieve the lucky guards who had to the duty to protect the town at night, with the sun lighting the night.  For whatever the person, they knew that they had a task to complete and if they rose early, they could finish early. Perhaps even finish before midday and get near the front of the water line. Yes, they all knew that the earlier they arose, the better the day would be.

In this kingdom, only having two kings so far, all had a duty to do. No one was free from work or else they would not have any value. The king would always take an active role in all decisions of what his kingdom next move should be to grow and stabilize as if he was a tribe leader. The queen had gone out on a scouting mission to discover if there was something beyond the mountains that gave them their stream of water. Even the prince was expected to give his hand in whatever there was needed to be done in the kingdom.
 
The Royal Attendant, who’s job was to aid and mentor the prince’s growth into becoming the king one day, was storming through the royal palace. The royal palace, like the rest of the town, was in constant stage of having improvements added. They moved to have the stones the miners gathered smoothed down to be soft on the feet of the people. He glanced at the builders who were making large stones –pillars as the king had come to call them- for a high roof. Definitely a wonder and would improve the palace appearance.

He sighed. Twisting a whisker, he had the feeling that one day that a king would have this place as a quaint relic of his forefathers. He and every else with a mind knew that what they were doing was not going to last or be a glorious moment that would last in their kingdom history. They were simply building the path for future kings and making sure that the rest of the people stayed with the kingdom until the future kings were able to do it themselves without worrying about desertion.

Shaking his head, he knew that will not matter if he did not find out why the royal prince had not gone to help in the town. As he turned another corner, he was brought upon a set of doors that had several guards, two visible and the rest hidden, that would bar almost all from entering. The men’s ears twitched as they heard the clicking of toe claws clicking on the floor.

They wore soft cloths underneath their metal clothing, armor as the smiths were calling it, that covered the torso, arms, legs and the top of their feet. The Royal Attendant had his doubt about this metal clothing as most were poorly made and dragged down the warrior. He knew that he could easily take down several guards because their armor had faults that would be easy to exploit.  But they liked it and they felt that over time it would improve. Just like the kingdom they would say to annoy him when he voiced his thoughts on the armor. His dust colored tail flicked out of agitation as the thoughts passed through his head.

As soon as they saw who he was, they released their tight hold on their spears, but their hands did not stay far from their blades. Even he was to be watched, despite his undoubted loyalty. 
 
“Is he still in there?” He gave the command as a question he already knew the answer.

“Unless he has managed to find yet another hole, yes.” The guard on the right answered with a groan following. The prince was known for finding ways out of places that he did not wish to be stuck in. It was interesting as at times he left through rooms that people believe held only a single exit by one that no one noticed. It did make guarding the prince when he was suppose to be asleep and then finding he had left for the bars a difficult challenge.

“If he is, then he better have a good reason for being asleep this late.” The Royal Attendant muttered under his muzzle. The guard on the left, a man that still had some youth on his face, was suddenly smirking and trying to hold in laughter.

“Will you administer one of your treatments?” He asked, laughter beginning to sneak out.

“If I have to.” The aging man glared at the man. “Although, I am a bit worried about that sound coming out of your mouth. It does not seem right.” With the threat laid out, the man snapped upright and held the spear tightly. Knowing of the Attendant’s infamous medical style, he had no desire to be cured or thought needing a cure from the man in front of him.

“N-no need, Royal Attendant! I am perfectly well!” He nearly shouted, showing fear all over his body. He did not try to bring his ears up from his head nor did he try to stop his sandy tail from shaking. He did force it out between his legs though.

The aging man glared at the guard on the left, signaling that this was not over, moved to enter the room.

Immediately, he understood why the royal prince has not awaken yet. Storming the dark room to the window, he shook his head. A great number of people have begun to hang cloth over the holes in the wall. There was not a name for it yet, but he disliked them greatly enough to curse them whenever he saw them. People from before the start of the kingdom were always able to awaken with the light of the sun, but slowly the youths born after kingdom began losing this ability. The royal prince was thankfully not like the lazy youths that needed another to wake them in good time, but there were times that he had, as he called it, overslept.

“Oversleeping.” He growled under his breath. “Another word for being lazy or hiding the fact you are awaking from a night of drinking.” He grab the cloths covering the window and pulled it wide open. The light of the sun lit the room instantly and the Royal Attendant growled as the light temporally blinded him. Turning around, he stormed to the bed where the prince should be. Reaching downwards, he pulled the sleeping cloth off the bed.

What he saw just angered him more. The bed was empty. Again.

“When I get my hands on that damn prince.” He grumbled loudly, ready to sound the alarm when he turned his head.

“Ah, there you are.” Satisfied at finding the prince, he walked over the meal table where the prince was sleeping on. Or more precise, his torso, arms and head were on the table and he was guessing that the princes legs were still cross underneath the table. Standing over the sleeping prince, he wondered how he would wake the young man. He saw that the prince had spent some time as a nearly burned down candle stood to his left and-

“What’s this?” He leaned down to see some cloth that had some ash markings on it. Picking it up it, he could see it was a drawing of a crate of some sort and then a rough drawing of a leg guard with an arrow pointing to the crate. He then saw that were more drawings, a number of rough images of a typical head of a Feran from different views and then something a strange covering in the next picture. There were more of these strange images concerning things he could not always decipher. The further it went from the first image, they were getting sloppier. It was clear here that the prince was falling asleep. He saw that the last one was when the prince realized he was falling asleep and was attempting to do a good image. He had drawn a hand and next to it was another hand, but it was bulkier with lines going across it. 

“These are ideas to improve the armor.” He muttered under his breath in slight awe. He never thought that the prince had such a flare for forging to come up these ideas. Some of theses were good to his untrained eye and some needed the prince to explain, especially the first one.

That reminded him of why he was here. Carefully placing the cloth on the bed, he turned back to the still slumbering Feran. He glared, and then walked around the table to give the prince a proper awaking.

“Your highness.” His voice triggered the prince ear to twitch, showing he was stirring. This is what he wanted, so he then moved to his second part of his wake up plan. He then slammed his hand down right near the prince’s head. The prince, who’s legs were still under the table, jumped upwards. But since his legs were trapped, his motion brought his upper body back down.

After a stammering of curses, the prince looked up at the man in front of him. Holding his bruised muzzle, he glared upwards as he sought to free his tangled legs.

“How nice it is that you decided to wake after a fourth of the day has passed.” The Royal Attendant said peacefully looking down at the young man.

Still tired and angry, the prince glared upwards. “So you call slamming your hand-wait, a forth of the day!?” He spoke out of fear, never dared to sleep this late. Only the sick would be allowed this and he was unfortunately well at the moment. Uncaring of his state of dress, he forced himself to his feet and began to walk as fast his numb legs would allow him. He was halfway to his clothing trunk when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see the Royal Attendant glaring at him to calm down. His eyes shifted away, feeling like a kit that was being scolded, his tail began to flicker back and forth.

“Once you have stopped acting like a frighten little kit, get dressed. You and I will be seeing the king to discuses your drawings.” He commanded the young man dressed only in his fur.

“What? No, they’re just ideas that I had.” He raised his hands upwards. “I do not see how they could ever be something useful.”

“Do not lie. If they were useless, you would not have spent the whole night here and would have gone off to find something to drink.” He glared at the prince, who was looking away.

“Yessir.” He answered, feeling embarrassed.

“Do not rush your words and look at the person you are talking to!” He snapped, drilling in a old lesson.

“Sorry si-” The prince was cut off as the other man had grabbed his ear and forced him to turn around.

 “Do not call me that! My title is Royal Attendant to the Royal Family, not sir!” The aging man voice was rising. After glaring at the winching person in front of him, he let go.

“Yes Royal Attendant. My apologizes for how I misspoke.” The prince bowed from the waist, acting as sincere as possible.

“Good. Now I will be heading towards the King’s waiting chamber. I expect you to meet me there before I enter.” The older man went to gather the drawings as the prince began to dress. Deciding not to risk rolling it and realizing that walking was the only safe method of carrying, he took to a brisk walk heading to the room where the king would be.

[Evilhumour]

Garreth, the young prince, was forcing his pants on as the door closed. Knowing the danger of being late, he ignored the pain as he forced his sandy light brown tail through the slot for it. Reaching down for a top that held the least offensive smells, he debated rather or not to try and find a clean one. Realizing that he was running out of time, he simply grabbed the closest one and threw it on. Hoping that it would not offend his father nor anyone else there with its smell, he then tied his sword on and picked up his spear that marked him as the prince. Ignoring his scattered armor, it would take too much time to find and place it all on, he left his room. Quickly ordering his guards to follow, he ran towards the chamber. He ignored their comments, and was focusing on only following the correct path and trying to smooth his shirt out with a single hand. He was nearing the chamber and he was getting worried as he had yet to catch up. His fear was rising until he turned the last corner and nearly knocking down the aging man. The Royal Attendant looked at the young man with a smirk on his muzzle.

"As always, you like to wait until the last possible moment." The Royal Attendant ignored the glare he received and looked at guards behind the prince. "Although, if your guards did think of waking you earlier, perhaps you will not need to wait until the last moment." He then went inside with royal prince, leaving the guards alone outside.

Inside the chamber there stood a long table with a dozen or so surrounding it, discussing things that seemed to have little or no connection to the neighbors. But as the prince knew, they all had to matter to one another if the king would allow such high number of people in his official meeting room instead of having them meet somewhere else. The only people that did not speak were the guards that were standing next to the king and around the room. They just stood watching all the men in the room. All turned their heads to the new arrivers.

The king was drabbed in a short light tan cloak that could cover his whole torso, if needed, with a light brown shirt and dark black leggings. His short sandy brown fur was well groomed and his brown eyes still had that sparkle of his youth. His spear, decorated with the royal markings of the king, lay across the table just in reach in case the king needed it.

"Ah, my son, you finally decided to get up." The king spoke with a unnerving calm voice. "What bar did you visit last night that caused you to hide drunken head all this morning?" The king snapped, slapping his hands on the table. It caused all the people, who were all quiet, to jump back from the table in shock.

"Actually, my King, it seems that our prince did not spend his night at a bar, but trying to work on improving the armor." The aging man said with a slight grin. "These ideas, the ones I can understand, all seem very possible and interesting enough for us to discus them." He walked over to the king, a glance at the prince told him to come, and he placed the cloth in front of the king. The king, prince and Royal Attendant were quickly surrounded by others trying to see what was drawn. The guards quickly used their spears to push back the rest of the rest of the men, not caring of the looks they received.
"So my son, do tell me, what is this."  The king pointed to the first image, the strange crate.

"Well, I knew that it is hard for the smiths to make good armor as there is so many different ways that they make it. It makes some of them poor and useless in battle. If we had some way to make armor the same way over and over, it would be good no?" The prince stopped, ears and tail twitching as he spoke. The men around him looked at him with mixed thoughts that were visible on their face. Some were probably thinking it was a dream, some had thought it was a good idea, and most were waiting for him to get to the point. "I was drinking," Garreth stopped talking and was looking very alert. The king and the Royal Attendant glared at him. "Some wine." He lied with a slight pitch in his voice. "And I realized that the wine will always hold the same in the jug." People were slowly getting the idea, but some were not. They were looking at him with displeasure and waiting for him to say his idea. "If that was true, then why could we not do the same for the armor?" Everyone in the room looked away from the prince and turned to the Master Smith. Garreth flinched back when saw the he very important man who he was suppose to be working with today. A man that did not like sloth from his fellow smiths.

The Master Smith, a man who was slowly reaching elder age, looked at the prince with a face that did not say anything. He was dressed in his heavy apron and black pants, his stub of his left twitching more then his full right ear was. He looked as always he always did; with a thought on his head. He moved his way through the crowd, not noticing the people's tail he stepped on. He also missed the yelps and glares as his foot steps were considered very heavy for a Desert Feran. He went near the head of the table, ignoring the fact he was pushing the king and prince aside so he can make space for himself. He leaned in to look at the cloth, stroking the fur under his muzzle. 

"It might work, if I heated the metal enough to make it liquid and then let it-" His sentenced wandered off as he looked over the rest of the images. He pushed the people around him to get more light and then look startled to see it was two thirds of the royal family he had pushed around. "My apologizes, my King, my Prince." He spoke, and then moved back to looking at the drawings. He did not really pay any mind to anything when he had an idea in his head. His mate was the only person known that could actually pull him away from an idea he was thinking of. 

The other men and women began to cluster the table, the guards unable to keep them away. The king grabbed the shoulder of the prince and was dragging him away. He looked at the Royal Attendant, telling him to stay there with his eyes. He led the prince out to the hallway, clutching his spear. When they were both out, the king stared at his son. He sighed, shaking his head.

[Evilhumour]

"At times, you are so clever and smart that I cannot wait for you to become king." He said it with pride in his voice. "And yet, at times Garreth," The prince snapped his head up looking at his farther. It was not often when he heard his name. Nor was it for any other Feran in the Eternal Desert. There was always the need to have at least the most basic respect for the people in the Eternal Desert. "You can be such a damn fool! What were you thinking telling everyone that you spent another night drinking?! I do not think a drunk king will inspire anyone to stay by your side you dolt!" He shouted, swinging his spear around his sons alert ears.

"Farther, I do not spend all my nights drinking! Nor do I drink any more then other men in the kingdom! Also, I was not drinking last night as I had wine!" He shouted back. "I also am trying to make the most of what I can do for the kingdom. But it is hard to always be tying think or work to improve the kingdom! I need my vices!" The two glared at each other, noses almost touching. They stood like that until the king's stern mouth twitched. At that, the two let out the laughter they were holding in.

"Another one of your famous fake arguments?" A rough voice barked from the doors. The Royal Attendant glared at them, shaking his head at them. "One of these days you kill me by all that damn fake acting! My heart cannot take it!" He snapped at the two, holding a very convincing glare.

"The same heart of the best scout I ever had, who can still outrun anyone in the whole kingdom by a whole day?" The  king laughed, patting the Royal Attendant on his shoulder. "I doubt it."

"At times like this, I do not know who I am suppose to mentor. You or the prince, my king." The aging man sighed. "They wish to talk more with you my king." He placed his hand on the king shoulder, guiding him back into the room.

"I suppose I should head to the forges." The prince said, turning around to leave.

"Not yet, my prince." A soft voice spoke out. "I am eager to try out your ideas." The Master Smith said, walking past with the cloth in his hands. "However, I am not pleased to have wasted several hours in waiting for you." He looked at the prince, and then continued on his path. "I'm afraid that any assistance in the forges would not be any good now that you decided to show up." He spoke over his shoulder, not looking back to see the prince cringe.

"Just as well, as I do believe that the cooks need some help." The Royal Attendant spoke out to the prince.

"No no. I am sure that I can find something else that needs to be done." The prince said backing up. Of all the possible tasks that needed tending in the kingdom, helping with the cooks was one of his least favorite task. Despite the fact he was an average cook, he always felt like he was clumsy and ungraceful kit as he was often told there. He would always seem to stumble, cut himself with a knife, singe his fur or something else when he was helping in the cooks. That was not including how the other cooks interacted with him. They quite often cursed him, under their breath of course, for overcooking the food, breaking several pottery dishes or other ways he was a bothering person in their kitchens.

"Then I do not have anything for you." The Royal Attendant looked at the king. The king stopped, and looked at his son. The prince was looking panicked. Sloth was just as bad as aiding the cooks in the prince eyes.

"I-I'll go help in the kitchens." The prince turned away, clutching his spear tightly. His guards, who were waiting down the corridor, began to follow the prince. They did not say anything, but their facial expression became a mixture of amusement and fear as they neared the kitchens. He reached the door and shoot his guards a look telling them to stay. They were already planning to stay out for their own safety. The prince gulped, and then knocked on the door.
"Aye, who's it?" A gruff voice braked out from the room.

"The royal prince, here to aid in the-" The prince spoke only to have a loud groan interrupt him.
"Ah, your highness, I do not need your assistance here." The gruff voice spoke out of aggravation.
"The Royal Attendant suggested to me that you need help." He spoke out, words tripping as they came out. He groaned as he realized that he changed his thoughts mid-sentence.

"What was that my prince? It made no sense!" The voice snapped at him. A couple of curses were heard. "I guess that you don't have anything else or you would not be here." The person's sigh was heard through the door. "Give me a moment to move the pottery to a bit safer place." Another string of swears were heard as the sound of cluttering dishes were being moved around. The prince looked to the side, already feeling the hopelessness that he associated with cooking.

[Evilhumour]

He was playing the cuffs of his shirt to distract himself from what was coming, taking in secret sniffs to see how bad it was. Letting out a groan, he realized that this one of his shirts that still had the scent of a night at the bars. This was not something he needed to broadcast, especially not here.

"Ah, it seems that our favorite prince has spent another night drinking." The door open wide, nearly hitting the prince in the face. "Well, if you can, walk in and start helping." The tall, large Mistress Cook order over her shoulder, not bothering to look at the prince. "Leave your spear and sword on the racks, I do not need to get another dozen dishes broken." She grumbled, going back the nearest preparation table. It held several pieces of large raw meat yet to be cook. It also held several large knifes that she moved away from the edge as soon as he took another step into the room. The rest of the room held several more preparation tables with more meat or the rare vegetables on it as well as several cooking pits in-between the tables. This whole room was working for the entire population kingdom of one hundred or so Ferans.

The rest of the cooks and apprentices of the kitchen looked up at their prince and all moved back out of their own safety. The prince, taking a deep breath of air, placed his spear a sepperate rack. He did not want to knock all the other spears down again. Pulling his sword out, his elbow hit the rack holding the other spears. Turning to grab them, his sword hit several more causing tem to fall. He stopped and froze as all of them fell. The noise was defending in the silent room and all the eyes shifted from the prince to the Mistress Cook.

"My, that must be a record for you, is it not my prince?" She snared at him, causing him back up. That made him knock down his own spear. Spinning around to catch his spear, he dropped his own sword. He nearly cut his toes off, but he managed to save his toes. With his attention with his sword and toes, he forgot about his own spear. He swore as it hit him in the middle of his ears. Stumbling backwards, he tripped on one of the fallen spears. He landed hard on his rear and tail, with his spear rolling down the side.

Garreth sat there not moving a muscle except for his pounding heart. He sat there for around five seconds, until a loud grunt above him snapped him out of his shock.

"Well, don't sit there. Clean this mess up and then come to help with cooking pits. I don't think you break anything there, but do be careful. Another uncontrolled fire is nothing I want, do you understand?" The Mistress Cook snapped, her foot tapping loudly.

"Ye-yes Mistress Cook." The prince stuttered, already picking up the spears. His ears were still pressed against his head and his tail refused to move from between his legs. He could not force his tail out or his ears up even if he wanted to, but that was not his concern at the moment. Placing his spear on the rack again, he carefully bent down and picked up his sword.

He paused to actually look at it. It was a short length, only really used when the spear was not a well choice. It curved upwards with a small dip at the head. It was done so when it breached the skin, the flesh would be pulled out. It was a good eye gouger as well as throat splitter as Garreth was told by a great deal of his subjects. He did not know as he was never allowed to go out to any true battles. But the king made sure that Garreth knew how to fight, to the death if it had to be, with the spear and blade like any true Feran of the Eternal Desert.  

"Stop standing there and finish cleaning your damn mess!" The Mistress Cook yelled at him, causing him to jump and drop his sword. He nearly impaled his foot again, but he was able to catch his sword at the last moment. He placed his sword on the rack and went back to pick up the remaining spears. He was quickly finished, to which the large woman in her large white apron that had a not surprisingly great amount of bloodstains merely grunted. "And you lot, get back to tasks. I don't want to take care of all the cooking here!" She went on to bellow her commands, picking out slackers here and there as well as people not tending to the food properly. He stood behind her, her unusually short and thick tail flicking back and forth as she looked this way and that. She was determined to keep her kitchen running smoothly as possible. Her left ear flicked as he took a quiet gulp and she turned around to face him. She pointed to the cooking pit that had the least amount of fire under it. His brown eyes darted from it to the woman in front of him.

"Do you wish me to add to the fir-" He began, looking for some approval.

"Absolutely not!" She bellowed, leaning down to face the prince. "The last time you tried to do that, you nearly burned all your -and my- fur off!" She took a sniff of him and wrinkled her snout. "Next time you leave your chamber, my prince, please clean yourself and wear clothing that does not reek of the bars!" She barked it out, walking forth to the cooking pit. The prince numbly followed her, nodding every time she spoke. "Just spin the spike slowly so the meat cooks all the way. And make sure that you keep your damn tail out of the fire!" She flung her hands in the air. Grunting, she bent down and began to fan the fire. "I thought after third time you would learn, but you then and did it a fourth time."

Letting out a low yes, he squatted on his knees and waited for someone to place the meat on the spike as they did not let him do it anymore after nearly losing a hand. He made sure that his tail was curled around his feet, but not too tight as he did not wish to trip on it. It had not happened before, but he was not willing to risk it.

For the next few hours, Garreth did all he could to repress any concise thoughts and focused on trying to do a good job. He did cause a few more accidents, but nothing too serious that required the aid of the Royal Attendant. It did not seem any time had passed, but soon the mid-day horn was sounded. He leapt up upon hearing it, nearly knocking his spike and food to fall in the fire. Luckily, he managed to save it. He turned his eyes to one of the apprentices bringing the food.

"You, bring my meal and water to my chambers." His command sounded harsh to the prince, but he did for himself. "Tell the king that I do not wish to dine with him at the moment."  The commands began to circulate throughout the kitchen, passing to the Feran that brought the food to the royal family who now had to make another journey before he could eat and get his daily water.  

Garreth did not wait long before sprinting out of kitchens, barely avoiding the servants. He paused only long enough to grab his weapons and then bolted for his chamber. He ignored the shout from his guards complaining to wait for them. He just needed to make it to his room. He reached the hallway he knew well and pulled the doors open. Giving his guards a look that they knew was a plea to leave him be, he closed the door on the two visible guards. Taking a deep breath, he began to let his pounding heart slow down. He dropped his sword and spear on the floor and went to close the cloth around his window for privacy. Once settled in semi darkness as there was crakes of light through the cloth, he began to disrobe. Walking in his fur, he went around his meal table and reached for his washing oils. Taking the time, he made sure that his scent was alcoholic free. He was heading back to his clothing trunk when he heard one of his guards speak.

"My prince, the servant for the mid-day meal and water is here. Send them in?"

Pausing a moment, he gave a shrug as he picked up his blade. The risk of a killer was always there, but he was not truly worried about that. As well as the servant that brought the food for the royal family was a trusted man.

"Yes, send him in." He continued his walk, bending down as he heard the door open and close.

"Here you go -oh my!" The prince ears and tail shot up as he heard a female squeak and then the clatter of his blade falling. Of course they would send a different servant. The different servant had to be a girl and he had to decide not to wait until he was decent to let her in. His tail still standing  in the air, he turned his head to see the young woman cover her muzzle with one hand, holding the large plate with the other. She was wearing a white blouse and dark color pants as the rest of the apprentices of the kitchen wore. Her shocked face was a near match for his own, but he was sure that his blush was not as visible as hers.  "My apologizes, my prince." She stood there, still looking at the fur clothed prince. "I did not know that you were-"

"No, it was my fault. I should have made you wait until I was properly decent." He turned around and stood his height. "I am sorry that I have placed you in such uncomfortable situation." He bowed, feeling his face heat up, and then stood straight. She had not moved from her spot at the front of his bed, but her hand covering her muzzle had dropped. As well as her eyes... He uncomfortably forced his tail to cover up the more exposed areas of his body. "If you would please place the meal and water on the table as well as not mention this, I would be really grateful." He turned again, leaning on his knees as he began to look through his clothing trunk. Picking out a dark pair of pants and clean dark red shirt, he threw them on his bed along with his cloak. He heard the clink of the plate being placed on the table and then footsteps coming closer.

"If I might, my prince, I would suggest something else then the shirt and pant you chose." The cook apprentice leaned over his shoulder and looked into his trunk. "The coloring does not truly blend well with one another." She then knelt down, slightly nudging the prince to the side. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he made sure that his tail was covering certain aspects. "This one is better for those pants, my prince." She held a dark green sleeveless  shirt. She leaned over him and placed it against his exposed chest. Caught unprepared, he leaned back against his bed. While doing it, his tail fled to his side. He was not sure if she caught a look at his lower regions as her plain white blouse was hanging low enough for Garreth to see inside. A clearing of the throat caused the two to snap their heads to the door to see the Royal Attendant standing there, looking very displeased.

"Royal Attendant, I-" The young woman began, but the aging man was not in the mood.

"Back to your duties girl, and do not come back here ever again." He snapped loudly. The young woman stood up, leaving with a quick bow to the aging man and a bow with a wink to the prince, fled the room. But she was stopped by the Royal Attendant. "And do not mention of what happened here, other than the guards held you up while the royal prince changed. Understood?" He glared at her, holding her arm tightly, after seeing the nod, he let go and she was out of the doors quickly. The doors sound far louder then they should have to the prince. "As for you!" He shouted, taking his time to walk over.

"Before you start, let me say I learned my lesson last time and I did not plan for thi-"

"I know."

"And that it was an acciden- Wait what?" The prince blinked, looking up at the man.

"I was outside when the girl went inside. I, as well as those guards, heard the whole conversation."

The prince sat up and looked at the man in front of him. "Then why did you-"

"Because she was quite obviously looking for a chance to become the next queen."

"What? Couldn't it have been for-" He stopped as he sounded quite eager and was treading on dangerous ground with the man. The last thing he ever wanted was to have a repeat of that incident. It still made him cringe and blush when he thought of it, but not as much anymore.

"Pleasures? That is also possible." The man looked at the prince. "But you would not have acted on those urges, right?" He asked, staring at the blushing prince. The prince, ears slowly lifting up, turned to face the aging man.  

"Well, to be honest, slightly. But only near the end was I tempted." The prince held his hands up in defense.  

"What I want to know is why you felt the need to go to your chamber for the mid-day meal. As well as eat in your fur." He looked at prince and took a couple of sniffs. "Ah, so you felt the need to clean yourself." He shook his head and let out a sigh. "You know, in my day, we had no problems seeing another person in just their fur and we were able to control our urges far better." He looked at the prince, who had got off the floor and walked over to his table. "What are you doing?" He was concerned as this was very odd, even for the youths born after the kingdom birth.

"What? I am not going get my clean clothes dirty." He answered without glancing back.

"How odd." He turned around and left the room. The prince sat down and began to eat his meal in comfort and his fur. Eating in his fur was not something he secretly enjoyed to do. It was just something he did so he did not have to change his clothing twice in a day if he could avoid it. Finishing the meat and vegetables, he then turned to his water. He carefully lifted it to his mouth and drank every drop he could. His short, rough tongue snaked out and was licking up all the drops of water that refused to fall. Placing everything back on the plate, he stood and brushed himself off the crumbs of his meal.

He then walked over to his bed to dress himself. He dropped his shirt on and then pulled on his pants, taking care to be gentle with his tail this time as it was bit sensitive from this morning. Once he was dressed, he saw that patches of his fur was puffy. Rolling his eyes, he reached down to his clothing trunk and pulled out a grooming brush.

Grooming was one thing he really disliked to do, but he also hated to have part of his fur standing up. It irked him to no end to groom his fur, but he would not be comfortable to know that his fur was standing up, especially if it were in random places. He just hated that he had to use a brush to brush it down as it always stung. After dealing with his arms, neck and head, he turned his attention to the one place he had to be very careful. He absolutely dreaded to groom his tail as it was a very sensitive area for him. He had gone to Royal Attendant for advice for his tail after injuring it once while trying to groom the fur. Placing the brush down, he leaned over and pulled out a smaller one from a secret compartment he had just for this brush.

Grateful that only the Royal Attendant knew of his special brush, he picked up and drop his tail on his legs. Pinning it with his left arm, he began to brush the fur carefully. Even with his special brush, he knew he still could hurt his tail. With careful strokes, the fur on his tail began to become smooth once again. After getting the fur on his tail properly brushed down and placing the brush back away in its secret place, he then placed his cloak on. Picking up his sword and tying it to his waist, he then picked up his spear. He knew that he should go to his father in person to explain why, but not truly, he chose to eat in his room. Scratching the inside of his left ear, he was on his way out to talk with his father.

[Evilhumour]

Walking to his family's meal room, he glanced at the walls. This was his father legacy; buildings. His grandfather started the kingdom, his father built the capital, and he-. He sighed, shaking his head. He knew that he would either spend his life building another city or installing another part of his grandfather's grand scheme for a kingdom.
That made him really sigh. His grandfather had great plans for the kingdom, but he knew that it would be too much for his tribe to accept all at once. So it was up to his decedents to make them a part of the kingdom as they ruled the kingdom. That was his fate, to spend his life trying to have his people accept a strange new concept and then have his son spend his life the same way. It made him sad to know that his life was set, but he had to accept it as part of his life as royalty.
Reaching the room, he raised his left hand and knocked softy.
"Who is it?" The king voice boomed from inside, probably knowing who it was.
"It's me, my king." The prince answered, using respect in the hope of soothing his father.
"Enter my son. I do not wish to shout even louder then I am going to shout." The response was harsh, and it meant that Garreth was in for a decent tongue thrashing.

The young prince, bracing himself for what was to come, opened the doors to the small room. The king was sitting in his chair at the tall meal table, something the stone workers were mighty proud of for an odd reason, looking annoyed at his son. There were a few more people around the king, but Garreth did not bother to look at them at the moment. The king's guards, that were visible, did relax their hold on their weapons as the prince walked forward. Pausing only long enough to hand his spear and sword over to his trusted guards, he reached a few steps in front of the table before he knelt.

"It is good that not all my teachings haven't fallen on deaf ears." The voice almost caused Garreth to snap his head up, but he knew better. To do so would be a great sign of disrespect.

"Now now, old friend," It was the Master Smith, trying to defend him for some odd reason. "If he took all your lessons to heart on how to be like you, I wouldn't have these wonderful new ideas and designs to try." That makes sense, Garreth thought to himself, He wouldn't have been so kind if he didn't get to annoy the Royal Attendant.

"Well, it is my duty that he learns how to be a proper man." The Royal Attendant snapped back. Garreth could feel the glare the man must be giving to the Master Smith. If only he would be allowed to rise so he could see it.

"And what's does that mean, old friend?" The man with the cut ear voice grew dark.

"It has nothing to do with you, you old bag of fleas," The Royal Attendant snapped, "It was-"

"What did you just call me you old bag of bones!" The Master Smith yelled.

"Are you two a couple of little kits that need separating?!" A new voice, the mate of the Master Smith, caused the prince snap his head up. She was standing behind the Master Smith who standing next to the king. The Royal Attendant was on his other side and was looking away fuming. "I swear that he has maturity when he's drunk off his tail!" She waved her hand at the prince who was debating whether to be insulted or accept the truth.

"Ah-em!" He spoke out, standing up to look at the woman who insulted him.

"My prince, I did not say to rise, now did I?" His father asked, looking at Garreth. He gulped, and tried to knell with both legs. It took him a moment to decided which leg to use first before he was back down. "Never mind, just stand up." Garreth looked up at his father, his fur bristling at having been talked down so much in such a short time span.

"My apologizes, my prince." The woman said without a bow, and not really paying attention to him. She was glaring at her mate and the Royal Attendant, who were glaring at each other. She sighed, and grabbed the good ear of the Master Smith. She pulled the man back and whispered something in his ear. His face went from anger to fear then defeat.

"My apologizes Royal Attendant. My tongue, it seems, has a mind of it's own." He grumbled out, looking very angered and embarrassed to say those words.

"Yes it does," His mate, reached up and started to play with his head fur. "And while it does lead my mate into trouble at times, he also can do things that my mate cannot." She said, playing with his stub of an ear. Already smiling, this careful playing caused the Feran's tail to start thumping.

"AH-EM!" The Royal Attendant shouted, causing everyone to look at him. "Have some-"

"That's enough!" The king shouted. "You all are acting like kits!"

"If you say he started, Lrofh, you are sleeping on meal table. Understood?"  The Master Smith, apparently had the name Lrofh, ear drooped and looked like a scolded kit. His mate hands had gone to her sides and stared at him waiting for him to answer.

"Yes dear." He sighed, scratching his good ear. "My prince, I am glad that you finally came." He walked around the table and towards the prince. "Your ideas, they definitely have great worth to my work." He already placed a hand on his shoulder and was guiding him away. "My apprentices and fellow smiths have spent the whole half day building your 'crates'. I have spent some time trying to figure out how to get the-" He paused, allowing the prince to receive his weapons. "Metal to reform at the right heat, but if I am right, we should see our first perfectly made armor. I do believe this would make us unbeatable in combat." The older fur continued his stride, leading the prince to what he expected would be the forges.

[Evilhumour]

"Yes dear." He sighed, scratching his good ear. "My prince, I am glad that you finally came." He walked around the table and towards the prince. "Your ideas, they definitely have great worth to my work." He already placed a hand on his shoulder and was guiding him away. "My apprentices and fellow smiths have spent the whole half day building your 'crates'. I have spent some time trying to figure out how to get the-" He paused, allowing the prince to receive his weapons. "Metal to reform at the right heat, but if I am right, we should see our first perfectly made armor. I do believe this would make us unbeatable in combat." The older fur continued his stride, leading the prince to what he expected would be the forges. "Though I doubt the tribes would try to arrack us."

Garreth noticed at this, the Master Smith hand went up and stroked his ear. The prince was sure that the Master Smith did not do it on purpose. He did not have the story of how the Master Smith lost part of his ear, but he knew better than to ask the man, but he was able to piece together a likely story. It was either a battle with a tribe or a ragrath that did it.
"We do have peace with most of them."

"None the less, prince, we need to show our strength in the Desert."

Garreth nodded his head in agreement, eager to see if his idea worked. It was a short distance to the forges, a couple hundred paces or so, but the Master Smith was taking his time.

"Although, they don't brother us too much..." He mumbled off, walking a bit faster. Garreth, not ready for the change, stumbled a bit to catch up.

It was true. While there was many other tribes in the Eternal Desert, very few came close to the kingdom. Tribes fought and traded with other tribes often, but they were very quiet to the first kingdom. Either it was due to being tremendously uncomfortable or pure disgusted with the concept of a sedentary tribe. It was against their entire mindset of why they were in the Enternal Desert, and it was reason that Garreth's family had to take the kingdom slowly; if they went fast they would loose all of the Ferans in the kingdom.

Blinking his eyes from the sudden change of light, he followed the Master Smith into forges. The forges were about the same length of kitchens, give or take some distance. Even with the special made up-floor with holes to let out the heat and allow light in, there was still a great amount of heat inside.

By reflex alone, Garreth removed his weapons and placed them the racks provided. He also removed his cloak and shirt, placing on the thicker forger shirt. Even without his shirt on, he still felt the heat.

"I know it to be uncomfortable, my prince." The Master Smith said, doing the same. "But unless you can think of a better material…" He trailed off, pulling on the fur under his chin as the ideas flowed through his mind.

Garreth eyes darted around, looking at the other apprentice forgers and fire coolers going on with their business. Everyone knew that their Master was always thinking of ways to improve the forging and fire control, and would always loose the idea if disturbed.

"Bah. A thought for another time." He grumbled his message that he could not come up with an answer and was annoyed by that fact. It caused a few forgers and fire coolers to flinch, as the Master Smith was almost always in a poor mood after saying that line or something similar to it. "Chief apprentice, chief fire cooler, how goes the testing?" He bellowed out, with the prince following him into the rear of forges, reserved for the best smiths, forgers and experiments.

"Master Smith, my Prince, you have good timing." The chief apprentice called out, with a clutter of Ferans watching the forge with the box in the middle. It was not hard to see the Ferans that were watching, turning their heads every second or two to see any new  changes in it. "I believe we have discovered the…" He paused, biting his lip in hopes to find the word.

"The time for perfection." The chief fire cooler, a stubborn elder Feran who refused to listen to his mate about doing simpler duties, called from his crouching position, holding his cloth. Looking across the forge to the fellow fire cooler. "You best be ready, or I'll see that your-" However, before his threat could be carried out, the chief apprentice called out.

"Now!" Using the tongs, he lifted the metal from the box and placed it on the cooling rock. Immediately, the fire coolers began to fan cold air onto the metal to cool it down with their cloths. This went for a short while, and then they stopped.

Now came the moment of truth. All the forgers and fire coolers paused to see if it had worked. The Master Smith took out his testing metal, a  rounded piece of metal with a handle that give a good ping with good forging and flat note with bad metal.

With a thwack, the testing metal gave out a sound. For a moment, there was silence in the forges, with everyone stunned.

"It-works." The Master Smith said, hitting again, getting a ping once more. "It really does work."

The End of Chapter One

[Virmir]

You've got a cool setting here and an interesting main character.  I like how he's a bumbling fool in the middle of very harsh, hard working society (that absolutely needs to be that way), and then on top of this he's a prince in a society where it's totally okay to treat royalty like that.  I'm quite intrigued!

Looking forward to the next part.

[Evilhumour]

Well Virmir, he is decent with ordinary tasks, can sow to an acceptable measure, knows how to handle a forge, but place him in a kitchen and you have the likelihood of stone catching fire. But yes, a Desert Feran worth is measured in what they can do for the tribe or kingdom. Sloth is a very horrific thing to do, as well as name calling.

The only society were a nickname is equal to a battle to the death.

The second part will come out soon.

[Evilhumour]

Chapter 2

With the forging box, as it was called now, finally producing a good piece of metal, there was vast number of forgers and fire coolers chattering with one another and trying hard to recreate the process. Of course, the Master Smith had eagerly wanted to other variants of the forging box, despite not having the cloths made for them yet.

Several bright apprentices had guessed that with the armor for the hand would heat up and become uncomfortable in mid day, so they had commissioned the weavers to create hand covers so they could be worn underneath the metal hand coverings, as was the name for the name for hand armor. It had taken a while, but they managed to devise a method of producing the metal hand coverings connecting it to the cloth hand covering underneath. They had to alter the design so now the metal hand covering covered only the fingers with a frame attached to the cloth hand covers. It was an interesting look, and they were eager to make more proper armor, now that the Master Smith was pleased by being able to continue his work on the other forging boxes.

The Royal Prince was also quite eager in furthering the armor he had designed, working along side the Master Smith with the other forgers and fire coolers to ready the forging box for the head armor, or the header as they called it, at long last.

It had taken some time to work out the finer points with the Mistress Weaver and her workers, including proper holes size for the ears and the correct size for it to fit on a Feran. It had annoyed the already impatient Master Smith, but he knew that any header would be useless without getting the correct information. However, the Master Smith and Mistress Weaver only cared about making it work, not on how it looked. Like the metal hand coverings, the finer points would come after they proved it was both usable and repeatable.
The weavers were quite eager in planning the future designs for the armors after realizing that slight errors in the forging box could lead to imprints on the armor. This discovery possibly saved the tail of the young apprentice smith who made the mistake of digging a little more into his forging box then suppose to. 
They had managed to properly implant the correct ‘image’ into a forging box for test header when they noticed the light had begun to dim.

“Listen,” The Master Smith paused, looking at the prince, who was aiding several fire coolers for one of the many metal hand covering being brought out. “The day is nearly over. Finish your works and cool down your forges.” Despite the forges being fairly loud room, they knew the sound of the Master Smith voice and did as he what he said. He then went on to tell several smiths to bring the best armor made to the guards station and tell the rest of Ferans their armor would be done tomorrow.

The prince, stretching his back out as he stood, started for the doors when the Master Smith placed a hand on his shoulder.

“My prince, I do believe that these idea of yours will undoubtedly make us the most powerful force in the Eternal Desert.” He gave an amused grin. “As well as more Ferans seeking the kingdom. The first king would be proud.”

“Your words do honor me, Master Smith.” The Royal Prince bowed, allowing his mind to actually take in the fact that their armor could now be made easier, faster and far deadlier then any of the tribes in the Eternal Desert. “However, working alongside you and your forgers for as long as I have, did allow me see the possibility. The worth of my idea is made off of the worth your craft.”

Letting out laugh, the Master Smith gave the Royal Prince a larger grin and  a pat on the shoulder.
“I believe if the Royal Attendant heard that, he would be as pleased as I am.” Taking a moment to look around for any fires still going without any Feran attending it and spotting a few. Before he left, the Master Smith said something low enough for only the Royal Prince to hear. “When I reach elder age, I will name you Master Smith. No doubt my mate will force me to find less taxing work…” Mumbling off, he left the Royal Prince stunned.

I know it is shorter then the normal five pages I put in, but you can tell why

[Virmir]

Cool update.  Looking forward to reading more.

[Evilhumour]

Cool update.  Looking forward to reading more.

You will most likely have to wait a week or so. Really need to get cracking. 

[Evilhumour]

Garreth was very much surprised to learn of the news, but he did his best not to show it. Marching as discreetly as possible, he pulled the Master Smith into a conversation.

“Master Smith.” He barked, quietly as possible despite his anger. “I must remind you of what you just said.”

The Master Smith paused, then his face fell.
 
“My apologizes.” He began, trying to keep a calm manner. “I had forgot that since the first king, it was not possible for us Masters of the craft to decide on a feran who had the true marking of Mastership if they had the royal blood. I am truly sorry.” He gave a slight growl. “My prince.” He turned around, going back to his previous business, attending the forges.

“Master Smith, do understand that I would enjoy nothing else then to aid the forges.” Garreth said as calm as he could after that insult. “I will continue to aid the forges as best as I can, as well as any of the others. But my duties as future king, and for the kingdom, does outweigh the duties of any single craft.”

The Master Smith, grumbled angrily at this and went to deal with the still lit forges. “I do hope for more plans for the armor, my prince. Do not disappoint me with the news that you cannot think of new ideas.”

“I promise do my best, Master Smith.” Gareth bowed again, but only out of custom. Turing away, he continued for the doors. Pausing to reclaim his shirt and cloak, he also tied on his sword on his waist and picked up his spear. He left the forges with little idea of what to do, head for his chambers or go to the bars and…

Frowning at what had happened, he inclined his head to tell his guards to follow him. They were surprised, as the prince usually went to the bars in the town instead of the royal palace after his duties were done for the day, especially when he had dealt with the Mistress Cook. Of course, they did not tell the Royal Attendant about this.

“My prince, is something the matter?” It was the same guard from the morning; despite being of considerable mature age, still had signs of kit age. Garreth and the guard did get along fairly well, as when time for practicing fighting they were usually paired together.

“There is nothing wrong, guard.” He growled the words, moving through the cool evening. The stars were not out yet, but soon they would be.

The stars were very interesting to look at, although their nature was completely unknown. Garreth had no idea what they were and did not care about finding about them, save to learn how to tell a distance with them as well as the sun.

Stepping back inside the royal palace, he quickly made his way back to his chambers. He did have a few ideas, but it was not concerning more armor. He had seen what that smith had done with the imprint, and planned to aid the Mistress Weaver so he could further the armor. He was still thinking of it, it was only luck that the possibility was discovered. They had enough difficulty in making the forging box, and now they had this new issue to deal with. It would take time to learn how to make the forging box deep enough to have the imprints without ruining the armor.

Once he reached his chambers and removed his weapons, he moved to his table. He had reached for his writing tool, but then quickly moved a small knife left on the table.

“My Prince, that was far too slow in realization.” The Royal Attendant, with disapproval in his voice walked over to the now standing feran. “If I was of another tribe, you would be dead now.” Flicking his eyes to the discarded weapons and back to the still angered feran. “Put down the blade, my Prince. I wish to know what altered you to my presence.” The last part was not  a request, but a demand.

“It was your scent.” The younger feran glared at the other, releasing the tight grip around the blade.

“Do not lie, I saw that you did not bother to in your surroundings.” The Royal Attendant frowned.

“It was the state of my chambers.” Garreth frowned, dropping the blade. “I left it in a rush both times and yet my belongings are were they are suppose to be.”

“That is because they are suppose to be there my prince.” The Royal Attendant growled slightly.

“Leave.”

“What was that?” The Royal Attendant blinked at prince.

“I said to leave.” The prince walked past the Royal Attendant and grabbed his weapons.

“I had heard what you said.” The Royal Attendant frowned and turned to face his charge. “I want to know why.”

The prince shot a glare at the Royal Attendant and placed his sword into his clothing trunk. Taking a moment, he sat on his bed and looked away from the Royal Attendant.

Sighing, he spoke. “As you have no doubt have learned, the Master Smith had mastered the forging box today.

“Yes, I had heard of it.” His eyes stayed on the Royal Prince, who rolled his symbol of power in his hands. His own spear was less decorated, of course, but still showed his importance to any naïve feran. “I suppose he is proud of this?”

“Too proud.” Garreth flashed a glare at him. “He wished to name me as the next master smith.”

[Virmir]

It has been a while since I read the last part so I may be remembering incorrectly, but as I take it he does not like the prospect of being king (as well as prince currently), yet in contrast he's very much offended by the prospect of him becoming the next master smith due to his destiny of kingship.  I take this as he's getting sick of his life laid out before him, and is frustrated that his path is set in stone.

Either way, good character development so far. Looking forward to the next part.

[Evilhumour]

It has been a while since I read the last part so I may be remembering incorrectly, but as I take it he does not like the prospect of being king (as well as prince currently), yet in contrast he's very much offended by the prospect of him becoming the next master smith due to his destiny of kingship.  I take this as he's getting sick of his life laid out before him, and is frustrated that his path is set in stone.

Either way, good character development so far. Looking forward to the next part.

Duties are important to the Ferans of the Desert. They would rarely go against their duties set before them. But the Royal Attendant is right with his talk of seeing changes in the youths.