The day had passed leaving the amber hues of morning to greet us. At present, my mother and I found ourselves seated comfortably inside a carriage, bound for the slave market.
The building is surprisingly spacious. At the moment, we're situated in the room that houses the receptionist, outfitted with a table and sofas for the comfort of prospective clients.
Upon our approach, we're greeted warmly by a staff member.
"Welcome to Shadowsong Market, my lady, and young mistress," he offers a respectful bow, inviting us to sit.
We return his acknowledgement with a nod and proceed to the awaiting sofas.
"How may I assist you today?" He inquires, his gaze never leaving ours.
"We seek a slave proficient in household tasks. Efficient, meticulous, someone well-versed in the role of a trustworthy maid," my mother articulates, her mind clearly pondering the prospects.
The staff member consults his registry, meticulously flipping through the pages as his brow furrows slightly.
"We house a variety of slaves; fallen nobles, debtors, criminals, amongst others. Do you have a specific preference?" He asks, scanning our faces for a reaction.
"We envision a female, free from any criminal past, neither too old nor too young. Ideally, one preferential to noble etiquette and domestic chores," my mother replies, her voice firm yet thoughtful.
"Now, do you have any preferences, Atthy?" She turns to me, expectant.
"No, mother, not really" I replied candidly. Honestly, the nature of the maid didn't concern me. As long as she didn't bring me trouble and carried out her duties efficiently, I would have no objections. An attractive appearance would be a plus, seeing as she'd be in my presence most of the time and a beautiful face can be pretty comforting, I thought with a chuckle.
"And what has you in such good spirits, Atthy?" Mother interrupts, her curiosity piqued.
"Just some thoughts of mine, mother. Nothing significant," I quickly retort.
"May I please be excused to examine our current slave availability?" The staff member addresses us, rising to his feet and ringing a bell, before adding, "Please, do make yourself comfortable." To emphasize his words, a multiple individuals of different races and occupations are brought forth.
As the staff member departs, a group of slaves enter carrying trays laden with an array of food—an assortment of cheeses, fragrant breads, a platter of fruits, and a pot of freshly brewed tea.
Each of them moves with synchronization, a showcase of seemingly inherent grace and impeccable training.
Gently, they set the food on the table, their movements meticulous. Next, one of them pours the steaming tea, the aroma filling the room, creating a cozy ambience. Their collective competence turns the previously empty room into a hive of engaging activity.
A petite figure, presumably a young boy, initially unnoticed due to his silent demeanor, drags over a stool and diligently begins to clean a table situated at another corner of the room. His movement is fluid and practised, like someone who's undergone rigorous domestic training.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and a burly figure strides in. Decked in traditional adventurers' gear, he wastes no time in flexing his impressive biceps and shredded abs, a clear demonstration of his physical strength and warrior-like capacities.
However, before the silence returns to claim the room, our ears are graced by the melodious tune of a flute. A lone musician finds his corner, his fingers gracefully dancing over the flute, filling the area with captivating music, a pleasant distraction from the rampant activities surrounding us.
I find myself blinking in confusion. Are they exhibiting their skills through this act? The bizarre spectacle brings an amused chuckle to my lips.
Their over-theatrical antics seem an unnecessary display of flair, but somehow, it's oddly entertaining in its own right.
As the hands of the clock danced away the minutes, the door of the room creaked open, revealing the staff member followed by a line of five individuals.
"Ah, my apologies for the delay," he began, adjusting the rim of his glasses professionally.
"We presently have five individuals who fit your exact preferences," he continued, gesturing towards the line-up.
The first one was a young lady exuding a fresh college graduate vibe. "This young woman has proven herself quite adept in handling household chores," he pointed her out, "She was previously employed as the Vice Head Maid in a noble household, which is impressive considering her mere 23 years of age."
Pausing for effect, he added, "Unfortunately, her gambling addiction led her into an insurmountable pile of debt, hence landing her here."
I couldn't help but note the obvious red flag. A gambling addiction could potentially complicate things. I found myself rather hesitant.
Moving onto the second individual, he declared, "Here we have a half-elf maiden. Similarly, she has a background in household chores. Despite being a second-hand slave, her previous master's involvement in a political dispute was the only reason for her placement here. I assure you, her transfer was not due to performance issues."
She appeared to be the girl-next-door type, her blonde hair cascading down past her shoulders, framing a face with strikingly blue eyes that rivalled any gemstone for its luminescence. It was her whom my eyes unconsciously lingered on, her surprised expression when our eyes locked echoing in my mind even after I looked away.
As he continued to present the remaining candidates, I found none particularly intriguing. One was an elderly dwarf woman while another was a lizardman. The last one was another human woman but none of them really stood out to me besides the first two.
"Ah this one with scales is Mizra. She's a Lizardman from the desert tribes," the staff member brushed his hand over the Lizardman's tough skin.
"Despite her appearance, she's quite proficient in cooking and sewing, although getting used to her might take some time," he said, looking for our reactions.
The other human was another case of debt that led to her enslavement. The dwarf was an experienced cook and had served in an inn before becoming a slave. Disputes with inn patrons seemed to have led to her downfall.
"Well then, Atthy, who piques your interest?" My mother turned to me with an inquisitive gaze.
"Ummmmm…I guess the half-elf?" I admitted, I couldn't help but acknowledge I was leaning towards the choice based more on her appearance than anything else.
My mother nodded in acceptance of my choice.
"Good choice," she said drily, her gaze never wavering from me. She seems to know I choose only based on appearance. I just chuckled inwardly.
"How does the purchase work?" I asked the staff member.
"Once you've decided on the purchase, we will need to finalize the paperwork. It includes the slave's profile and their rights and responsibilities towards you," he explained, adjusting his glasses.
"How much would she cost?" Mother asked.
"Considering her age and skills, she would be 4000 gold coins, madam," the man responded without hesitating.
"4000 gold coins...quite a price," commented mother, her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.
"A fair price for a valuable individual," The staff member responded, his tone as confident as ever. "A slave is not just a slave, they are investments. They can also bring fortune and prosperity. Especially when they are exceptional like this half-elf."
"Alright, we will take her," my mother said after a moment of silent contemplation.
I watched as the staff member fetched a small hammer and a circle-shaped brand out of a drawer. Right at the centre was my family crest.
"Is this the brand?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes, it's for marking you as the owner," he replied. "We usually place it on the left arm."
"Left arm"? I was taken aback. Then again, it's not like I had any better ideas.
"Once she's been marked, her allegiance will be to you and your estate," the staff member added.
When he applied the brand to her arm, the half-elf didn't even flinch. When the heat subsided, she turned towards us.
With everything sorted, I stepped forward to introduce myself to the half-elf. I was intrigued to learn more about her. "So, do you have a name?"
She looked down for a second. Partly due to her shy nature and partly due to her upbringing as a housemaid.
Her bright blue eyes met mine as she replied, "My name is Hana, mi'lady."
I smiled at her, "Well, Hana. I am Atthy. I am looking forward to your company. Let's get acquainted with each other, yes?"
Hana nodded, her expression softening at my words. She responded warmly, "I look forward to serving you mi'lady."
It was intriguing to see what interesting experiences waited for us in the future.