The pavilion reeked of humidity, sweat, and exrement, all merged together and condensed into a disgusting ball that was the slave market. The crowds roared boisterously, screaming either offers or obcenities, along with the occasional haggling of prices. Shackles that held the weakened, lethargic bodies of hundreds of men and women, clad in roughspun sackcloths and their own dried blood, were all lined up along the edges of the pavilion. It was a horrible sight, almost enough to have Auguste lose his lunch. He wedged his way past stocky men clad in unsightly thick clothing and the women who accompanied them, wondering for the life of him how they could ever benefit from such a dehumanizing act. These poor people needed to be set free.
Yet he couldn't bear to do a thing about it. He gazed up at the fair-skinned, beautiful women who were strung along the pavilion's iron poles like charms on a bracelet, all purposely dressed in provocative clothing that barely even covered their bodies. He winced as he eyed the most beautiful one of them all, a blonde, her blood smeared around her body as she hung beneath a couple of brunettes and redheads. It was a shame. "Sold!" came the roar of the slaver onstage, his arms to the sky as the many onlookers either cheered for the buyer or sneered for their own loss. Auguste caught a climpse of the young slave who'd just been purchased by a rather capable merchant, who mercilessly dragged him offstage. "I have something special coming up for you all now," the slaver bellowed, and his audience cheered as if they were being inducted into a exclusive celebration. Auguste had successfully dodged the burly hand of one overexcited armored man as he had his feet planted a few meters away from the round, wooden stage. They presented the best of the best here, usually, and by the way the man was introducing the next slave, it was probably of a much different race. Sweat trickled down Auguste's neck and forehead, dripping off his chin and onto his cloak. "This place is in such a terrible condition," he noted, his eyes scanning the scene with contempt.
And then came in the next creature to be auctioned. He expected a glorious Konti, from the way the slaver spoke, yet here stood a very ordinary-looking girl. Her eyes were a deep green, and her dark hair was in clumps as they fell along her back and shoulders. "In better condition than the others, but still..." he made a face, dismissing the young woman as he turned away from the stage, but the slaver continued to speak. "A kelvic!" he exclaimed, pointing his palm out to the sky, and then she took flight. Auguste's jaw slackened at the sight of her morphing, the twinkling lights and the golden gleams that surrounded her body, eating away at her human visage and revealing an eagle, its feathers an iridescent gold. She had discarded her tattered, wrinkled clothing, and was now soaring in circles around the audience, who were all in awe. She screeched and landed upon the ground near the entrance, and just as they assumed she would escape, she returned with a mouse between her talons, its skull crushed and its body bloody. She perched herself upon the slaver's gloved arm faithfully after discarding the rodent's carcass next to her clothing.
"Name your price, men! She could be yours teday!" was the slaver's final, phlegmatic holler. The croud quieted, friends and companions began to whisper and mumble, debating on the detriments and benefits of purchasing the Kelvic slave. Obviously she was going to be expensive. Auguste watched as reluctance weighed on and grew even heavier as the time passed. "Does she cook?" he called out with a mischievous grin, glancing over at the other men who observed the eagle. A roung of chuckles and guffaws erupted from the crowd, effectively breaking the silence and the tension. Yet, even then, doubt and reluctance continued to reign their hearts, as more questions reigned their minds. |
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