Free Volle by Kyell Gold, Sara Palmer

were easy to find; the smell of scented powder wafted down the corridor a good thirty feet away. He followed it to a white stone archway, inside which a plump female raccoon stood. She straightened when she saw him and favored him with a warm smile.
    “Evening, sir. Freshen up for the banquet?” She reached behind her for a small stack of towels and handed him one.
    Volle took the towel and leaned over a basin of water. He dabbed at it with the towel. It was lukewarm and only lightly scented. “Thank you. Is there some water I could wash out my muzzle with?” He cleaned his muzzle with the damp towel and then rubbed the fur dry while she answered.
    “Oooh. I think…let me see, sir.” She disappeared into a small doorway, leaving Volle to look around the room. The two ceramic basins had a few small cracks, but were otherwise in excellent condition, and he could now tell that the water they held was scented differently. The one he’d used was roses, and the other was jasmine. To his nose, the scents were moderately strong; to non-canids, he suspected they would be very light and subtle. More scents like those emanated from the curtains to his left; through there, he suspected, were the powder baths, large basins full of scented powder for a person to roll in.
    Those were luxurious enough, but then he noticed a curtained archway in the back of the room that billowed gently with steam, and Volle could smell the soaps. Warm water baths! He was sorely tempted to immerse himself in one, but he would never have time to dry off before the banquet.
    He had just put the towel down and started smoothing his muzzle fur when the raccoon returned with a pewter mug. She handed it to him. “Here, sir. Clean water.”
    “Thank you.” He rinsed his muzzle out and spit the water into the drain. The water was cool and refreshing, and got rid of some of the taste. He emptied the mug, swallowing the water this time, and handed it back to the raccoon. “Again, thank you.”
    She curtsied and smiled. “At your service, sir.”
    Back in his rooms, he examined his wardrobe. The only fancy thing he had to wear was the doublet he’d worn to the meeting, on his last day in Ferrenis. He took it down and fingered it softly, feeling again very lonely. Banquet, he told himself, great place to meet people. Except, of course, he would be meeting them in the hopes of finding out whatever information they had, always with that in the back of his mind. Not just to be social, just to make friends.
    He sighed and pulled the doublet on, adjusting it. There was a full-length mirror inside the wardrobe, which he used to check his appearance. He wished he had more formal pants than the soft cowhide ones he was wearing, but that would be something to take care of in the coming weeks.
    After five minutes spent brushing his tail, he felt calm enough and presentable enough to attend the banquet. He found the dining hall easily, because as soon as he got to the main hall, he could hear and see the crowd of nobles milling around outside it.
    They were of all different species, but he did notice a preponderance of bears. Wolves, raccoons, and weasels were all well represented, and of course there were several rodents: two squirrels, a beaver, and a dignified-looking white rat. The Exchequer, to his relief, was nowhere to be seen. He only saw two other foxes, and neither of them was a noble: the first was a footfox, walking around jotting names on a list, and the second was a personal servant attending a foppish-looking weasel who kept adjusting his lace collar. Volle’s glance through the crowd failed to turn up a single other pair of leather pants. Some males were wearing colorful cotton short pants cinched just above the knee, and some were wearing what looked like a knee-length skirt. The females, of course, were wearing long, loose robes. They all tended toward the heavy side, especially the males, but only a few were as excessively overweight as the