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Two well-dressed men in matching uniforms open stained glass doors, gesturing towards the large, throne-like chairs. A few handmaidens carry the trailing ends of the Queen's dress, and the severely obese king waddles onto the balcony. The King and Queen settle themselves upon the chairs, the balcony overlooking a vast, well-trimmed garden. The fountain in the middle was round in stature, a fat man spewing water from his mouth upon the base. Past the garden, a large fence encircled the stables. And past that, a pasture littered with sheep and grass.

As King Norman, the Fat, grabbed a handful of crackers and stuffed them into his mouth, he lifts a pudgy finger and points towards the lone figure entering the pasture from the woods beyond, "Who is that?" The much younger Queen, Gallina the Fair, fixed her gaze upon the small figure, "It's the local sheep-herder, dear." King Norman waves his arm about, "They shouldn't be so close to my stables! I won't allow it!" Patting his hands together, one of the menservants steps up. The King points towards the sheep, "I want that sheep herder removed from my property." The manservant dips his head politely, while Queen Gallina's sharper features formed a slight frown.

The sun settled over the Shepard's head, the sheep chewing their grass and baa-ing every now-and-then. The sheepdog starts to pace around the outskirts of the grazing sheep. The shepherd's hand lifted upwards, tipping the wide-brimmed hat. Her darkly furred snout and dark curls accented her eye-patch and moist nose. Her clothing was simple; a wool vest and trousers. In the heat of the day, she had pulled up the long dark slacks up over her knees, wading through the sea of grass and flowers as she crooned softly to her flock, enjoying the bleating answers. The meadows near the royal palaces were a sweet deal, with their well-tended grass, and without a beast or vagabond for miles.

The relaxing monotone beat of wind and murmer of lambs was broken as her sheepdog circled around and stood stiffly towards the direction of the approaching figures, the sheepherder turning towards the small group of guards heading towards them. She tipped up her hat and licked her teeth, dark lips pulling back into a greeting grin, "Company..." She sifted through the flock, her dog circling around her and hanging forward a bit, to stand between his master and the unknown, "Nice day for a walk!" She called towards the group, one hand on her sheeping staff, the other pushing the wide brim of her hat upward.

The royal soldiers stomped through the pasture, the sheep parting around them. The lead offers a snort in response, his hands drawing a scroll from a side-pouch. Unrolling, he starts to read off in the driest voice, "By our lord, King Norman, you are hereby sentenced to eviction upon his lands. You have an hour to comply. Should you not comply, citizen, your lodging will be removed by force." He rolls it up and turns to walk back to the keep. The other two turn with him, their expressions bored.

Driest voice!! All smiles, the lazy look of the woman was betrayed by her crimson gaze sharpening at the men, sloped ears lifting as she ran her tongue over her dark lips,"Ce que? _King Norman? What does he have against my sheep?" She watched the utterly disinterested men wander off, her smile wavering before glancing downward at her dog, exhaling softly and resting a hand upon his upturned head, "Let's go see what _Sa Majesté Norman has to say about this." She lifted her head and whooped, lifting her staff and bringing her sheep close to her. She watched until the guards were well out of view, before whistling to her dog. The mutt jumped into action, rushing around the flock in a few circles, before pushing them forward. The shepherd walked ahead, staff raised as the sheep army advanced upon the capital castle.

Upon nearing the castle's gate, the gate's guards hold their hand up, "Halt..sheep." The moat around the castle was littered with food waste, the drawbridge up against the stone entrance. Off in the distance, a few men were lowering the South gate. They carried torches. The guards pushed against the bleating sheep, "Who is the shepherd of these sheep?"

The wolf stood proudly in front of her sheep, leaning a bit on her staff, grinning amiably up at the group, "Careful, they don't bite- but they spit!" She chuckled and lifted her hand in greeting,"Majorra! I tend these sheep. I also make a mean pair of socks from their wool, come see me when it gets colder." She cleared her throat, her dog keeping the sheep in a bleating, complaining circle, "We are here to see King Norman! He wanted us removed from the meadows, so I removed them." She rubbed at her snout and took another step forward, looking down at the moat, "He's the one in charge, oui?"

The guard straightens, as the other wipes his hand on his sleeve, "At this hour, our liege is preoccupied. He will likely hold your audience in the morrow." Resuming his post, he stands at the ready.

The wolf pursed her lips, before leaning back on her heels and looking upward, taking in the view of the place. Her crimson gaze rolled over the moat, and the gates, dark lips pulling back as she picked at her teeth with one dark nail, "OH yeah? Well.." She took a few steps back, continuing to scan the castle for a moment, looking for windows and other climbing opportunities before her, "We'll be back! With more sheep!" She whistled for her dog, taking a step back and giving the guard a very cheery obscene gesture, before turning and ushering her sheep back down the path to the meadow.

The guards shake their heads as the sheepherder leaves. They chat among themselves, as the night slowly blankets the meadow and trees. A fire burns in the distance, before it turns into smoke, as strangers exit the woods as the shepherd nears the meadow. A light smoke lingers, the smell of it drifting around the trees.

Stepping through the grasses, lightening bugs and other crickets stirring up around each step, the flock hurries forward. Her dog chuffs and nudges the flock forward to follow their leader, the wolf squinting as she lifted her snout to the wind, breathing in the scent of smoke and watching the strange figures exit. She scratches at her scruffy neck and keeps close to her sheep, a friendly look upon the scruffy sheep herder's snout, keeping her head low as they made their way to the woods.

The soldiers pass by, a few meters away, without noticing or ignoring Majorra's sheep. Her mutt growls quietly, as it barks at the sheep, pushing them forward. The first layer of trees were passed, the smoldering cottage coming into view. The door laid upon its side on the ground, the grass around the building still warm. Empty buckets were laying in front of the lodging, discarded.

The forest was silent, muted around the smoldering remains of the cabin, the wolf standing in the smoky remains. The birds and insects all flown, she grasped her staff, her face carefully neutral. A soft noise escaped her throat, running her hand through her dark curls, mumbling darkly in her own language. She stood there for a long moment, her dog moving in to press its snout to her hand, the wolf turning her head down towards it, "Jacques..." She gently rubbed at his head, then exhaled and stood stiffly. She carefully pushed forward, stepping through the still glowing wreckage of her cozy small cottage. Weathered boots rifled through the ashes and embers, finding the frame of what had been the bed, and broken up dresser.

The night fell harder, the wolf rubbing at her bad eye, squinting slightly as it brightened considerably, the world coming into sharp view. Everything had been burned. Everything but... She grasped at the icebox, the contents melted within, opening it and rummaging through to find the small pack she kept within for emergencies. Grasping it towards her, the wolf knelt upon one knee and opened it, thinking about what else could be a more perfect emergency.

Jacques sniffed the ground, around the downed door. Lifting his head upward, he offered a bark of excitement. His form padded itself into the building, his head cantering to the side as he observed the wolfess. Releasing a few more barks, he wags his tail, before exiting the burnt house.

Oh Jacques, you always know how to cheer me up. The wolf smiled slightly, rubbing at her snout as she opened the pack and rummaged within. Finding a few small things, the wolf retrieved rope, a few small metal tools, slender and still warm from the smoldering heat of her burning home. She shrugged off her woolen poncho, draping the rope over her chest and shoulder, the lock picks carefully slipped into the hem of her trousers. The mana potion stared at her from the bag, her dark lips pulling into a long smirk. She ran her thumb over the opalescent blue of the mixture in the glass, pushing herself up to stand,".. Would you like me more as a beast, Jacques? Or would you eat your master once the flock had been picked through?" She pocketed the vial, and turned towards her loyal mutt,"I have things to do. Keep them close, in the morning we will find some place new."

Jacques's floppy ears lifted upwards, his tail wagging, but slowly. Releasing a single bark, he turns towards the woods and trods into them, his head turning to watch Majorra's form. He sits down upon his rump and then turns to march into the woods.