Until three days ago, she had been a slave to one Kegan Songbird. He had been an excellent master, as he had only rarely hit her and once even apologized to her after he did.

She wondered why he had betrayed her, because that is what she felt he had done by selling her, at least in part.

She had made herself as useful as she could to him, she was a slave mage. She had channeled that magic into enchanting, alchemy and herbalism. She was valuable! And yet she had been sold.

The man who had bought her wasn't a man at all, But a Drakon. A Drakon, who introduced itself as Lorkris. The first of its kind she had ever seen. His scales were a metallic, reflective green. And he sported a pair of wings, vast and majestic. He'd bought her for 600 silver pieces, a sum that seemed dreadfully large to the slave, who knew Kegan had purchased her for a quarter of the price.

He was not alone. A pair traveled with him. The Drakon's two traveling companions were not other Drakon, but humans like the slave.

Sulhazar, a young man, was presently leaning against the group's wagon and smoking a pipe. He was strikingly attractive. And his eyes glowed with a yellow light. His skin had the color of sunbaked earth, and his voice was almost musical.

Foci, who was presently grooming one of the two horses, was a woman who could not be any more different from the former, and yet was just as striking as the former. Her skin was a pale red, and while Sulhazar had been well taller than the slave, Foci dwarfed both and stood almost as tall as the Drakon Lorkris, muscular and powerful.

They were beautiful, and their presence was why the slave, despite the feeling of betrayal, did not bemoan the change in fortune.

The slave felt rather thankful for the color of her own skin, as it hid the blush she felt in their presence.

This was not the only reason she didn't mind her new situation, however. Not that she even thought about complaining, of course. That was how one got themself beaten. And her first mistress had taught her well enough to avoid such things.

No, the real reason she felt no urge to complain- internally or externally, was the simple fact she was too busy being confused.

Confused, as they hadn't told her to do anything.

She presently sat at a campfire, a comfortable warmth fighting off the nights chill, while her Drakon master cooked for her.

He also didn't appear to be very good at it, as he awkwardly handled the process of skinning the potatoes the group had bought from her old master.

She contemplated speaking for all but a moment but quickly thought better of the idea.

He knew she was a cook, of course. Her old master had made her various talents quite clear to the Drakon when he inquired about buying her.

On the other hand, the drakon had only managed to talk his companions into the idea when her old master had brought up her capabilities as a mage. More specifically, her abilities as a ritual caster.

Regular mage works required a direct source of power, either divine or from the mage's own stamina. Ritual magic, however, got around this. By drawing on ambient magic surrounding the caster.

This made it almost useless in any type of battle, as drawing the ambient mana took time.

Despite its relative uselessness on an active battlefield, it was still most often employed by armies, as ritual magic could be used to disguise the tracks of large forces, allow groups to breathe underwater, and even create or summon beasts to function as expendable scouts.

The slave had technically served in an army of sorts. The forces of her first mistress, the one who had raised her and taught her to use magic.

The Queen of the Deadtide, a woman who, some few years ago, had attempted to conquer the continent with a seemingly endless force of undead. But she had been crushed by armies and heroes.

The slave had loved her mistress, but loving her had not saved her. And when the dust was settling, the slave had run.

She was caught on the road and enslaved only a week later, and eventually revealed herself as a mage, as physical work would likely kill her. And... other work... no, she would fare not much better, if not much worse there.

A clatter of pans and a series of curses made her shrink in on herself. The Drakon had fumbled with the cooking ware and spilled out his progress onto the floor.

The woman, Foci, spoke now. "Lork, just let the girl do it. The man said she could cook."

The drakon spitefully spoke in reply. "It's not right, and you know it Foci."

Foci shrugged. "Maybe, but you know what else isn't right?"

"What?"

"Your cooking! Let the girl do it, you can pay her for it if it bothers you so much."

"Ah..." The Drakon brushed himself off, then turned to the tiny waif of a girl, with pitch-black ebony skin. He cleared his throat. "Could you..." Sulhazar broke out into a chuckle as he watched his friend struggle, which Foci quickly joined with her own laughter.

The slave, who had functioning ears, quickly stood to begin preparing something to eat.

The Drakon reached out and stopped her, shifting his steps and then handing her a pair of copper coins while speaking out a short. "Here" and pressed the coins into her hand.

She blinked down at the coins, then looked at him for clarification on exactly what she was supposed to do with them.

He looked down at her, either not understanding her confusion, or choosing not to explain and moved away with an almost whispered. "I'll just get out of your way."

She got to work, placing the pair of coins in her pocket as the two humans mocked the Drakon for being able to fight giants, yet running from a little girl.

The slave quickly got to work, using the ingredients they'd purchased from her previous master.

She took a mixture of beans and vegetables and stewed them until soft, and the liquid had evaporated. Once it had, she mashed the mixed food and seasoned it with bear oil and a small amount of salt.

While working on this, she spoke, "Bunúsac." And suddenly her hands and the cutting board the Drakon had been previously using, we're cleaned to perfection.

She took a look at the potatoes, and repeated the spell, cleaning the dirt from them. She looked at the three or so potatoes, then looked at the giant human and drakon who'd be eating.

She reached into the bag of provisions to acquire more food as well as a pair of smaller skillets. She suspected the meager meal the Drakon had been planning to prepare would have left her new master and his companions hungry.

But planned to make food that would keep if she were wrong, and so she cut the potatoes into long strips and oiled the skillet. before speaking the word "Tine." and summoning a source of fire into existence, with a thought, she twisted the flame in a sphere floating above the ground then spoke "Lámh." Causing the pan to rise from her hand, as a spectral hand which looked much like her own- if one ignored its ethereal nature, held the skillet above the flame.

The three mercenaries had long since quieted and watched gobsmacked as the girl worked, Foci murmured under her breath to the Drakon. "You sure we can't keep her? Just this once?"

Lorkris turned and scowled at the woman, who rose her hands up. "Kidding, I’m kidding."

The slave girl wasn't done, however, knowing that her old master preferred a diverse dinner, she felt it safe to assume her new one would as well.

She acquired flour, and after cleaning the cutting board with another "Bunúsac." Then began kneading the flour into a dough, slowly adding water as she did.

Before long, she had a simple dough with which to make a skillet bread, flipping it as it browned and the rest of the food cooked. And before long, the meal was ready.

Once completed, she looked around awkwardly.

She turned to the trio, who had watched this cooking process fascinated. Due equally to the casual skill as a cook and as a mage.

She spoke softly, in a voice hoarse from lack of use. With the exception of the verbal components that some of her spellcraft required, she very rarely spoke. "Plates?"

The three blinked at her, then Sulhazar grinned cheekily.

"Was she worth the money now, Foci?"

The woman threw a rock at him, which he caught, and went to fetch some plate from the wagon as he tossed the stone up and down.

Lorkris, who had a vague understanding of magic, was more impressed with the small girl's stamina.

She looked as if a stiff wind would blow her about, yet had cast a half dozen spells as quickly as anything else. And despite being told she was a ritual caster, the Drakon was sure that she had not used any such rituals for this cooking process.

He had impulse purchased her, as he always did with slaves.

Although he had no intention to keep them. And while some would argue that it was a tremendous waste of money, the joy he received from telling the slave they were free were memories he used to guide him through darker times.

He had not told this woman yet, not directly. The previous seven slaves he had purchased had quickly caught onto his intent. As he made no secret of it when discussing their purchase with their masters.

But the small girl before him had not thanked him, nor had she taken her to leave. For a while, the Drakon had begun to suspect she was a mute. And that her master had left her disability out of the negotiation process.

But she had just spoken several times. The first time he'd ever heard her talk since he'd purchased her earlier today.

Which led him to the conclusion she simply didn't understand that she was free, and he had as of yet figured out how to tell her.

He had hoped she would figure it out when he tried to pay her. Still, Lorkris began to suspect he was better of simply being direct with her. Usually, the Drakon turned to his two companions to speak with any humans they came across. As he found, humans were typically terrified of him at worst. A trait he often took advantage of when purchasing slaves with unruly slave traders. But he did not wish to spook the poor girl.

And she was clearly afraid of him, as she shrunk down when he was near, and of course, had not spoken a word to him this entire time.

He envied his companions at the moment, as while she hadn't spoken to them either. She still stared at them with a type of wonder he hadn't seen often. It was childish, but he wished she looked at him with that sort of wonder. He had been the one to free her, after all.

But he squashed the feeling, after all. She clearly didn't know she was free.

Excitement and glee settled upon him; this meant he would be able to tell her directly she was free. And not have the moment soiled by a greedy slaver attempting to squeeze every coin that they could from the Drakon, or the evident worry that he would back out of the deal as the price rose.

His mood lifted considerably as the girl approached him with a plate of food, which smelled fantastic. Far better than he would have done. He thought to tell her there, then stopped himself.

What was her name again?

He frowned as she left. Had that Kegan fellow not told him her name? As he searched his memory, he found himself recalling that her previous master had only ever called her 'girl' or 'slave.'

He whispered into Foci's ear. "Did you... catch her name?"

Foci turned to him, blinked, then grinned. "You don't know her name."

The Drakon hushed her then glared. "No, I know this sort of thing is important to humans. Please tell it to me."

She shrugged, still grinning. "No idea, might have to bite the bolt on this one, Lorky."

The Drakon grumbled, then gestured over to Sulhazar. "Sulhazar, do you-"

"I heard, you can't whisper for shit, Lorkris, and I don't either. Just go ask."

Lorkris grimaced. Before turning to the girl who was beginning to clean up the various cooking implements she had used. Lorkris noticed she had not made herself a plate.

He nodded to himself, then approached the girl. Before hunching down so as not to be too imposing.

"Hello."

She turned to face him but did not reply.

Lorkris coughed. "I seem to have forgotten your name."

She blinked at him, then replied slowly. "You were never told it, I am sorry." She bowed her head to him.

He panicked. "No, don't do that! You don't need to do that."

Her face went still, and she ducked her head. "I am sorry."

Lorkris cringed. "No, it is okay... I... I just wanted to know your name so that I could tell you..." He breathed in, not wanting to mess this up. and began again with a clear voice. "You are free." He looked at her, waiting for the moment of joy, the relief he'd seen before. The ones he carried into his dreams to push back the memories of battles.

He was disappointed.

She did look up at him with shock, as he had been expecting. What he had not expected was the expression immediately following. It was one of terror. He had seen the look before, in the faces dying soldiers.

She threw herself to the earth, prostrated before him. Her voice cracked as she spoke loudly and begged. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I don't know what I have done, but please forgive me! I swear I will do better. Please, please please." She begged and began to weep but stifling it so that it barely reached his ears.

Lorkris was shocked and recoiled like he'd been struck, his stomach dropped, and he wondered what he had said that had caused this? What had she thought he'd meant?

Foci and Sulhazar froze, they had been watching the events unfold before them. Lorkris's quirks were one of many reasons he was such an excellent traveling companion.

His habit of freeing slaves when given a chance had made him all the more endearing, even if they did gainsay it from time to time, they never did so genuinely.

They had never seen this reaction before. Nor in any world would they have expected it.

Lorkris just froze, looking to his human companions for some sort of aid. And feeling a pit in his stomach as they returned his look.

He kneeled down and spoke anxiously. "You do not wish to be free?"

The girl wept, blinded by tears. An ugly cry that left her struggling to speak. She found no words, instead, she vigorously shook her head.

He didn't understand, but his heart broke. And so he spoke. "Do you wish to stay that badly? You may, perhaps, you can join with the Aurum. The group we are members of, or simply travel with us. You may be free and still travel with me if you feel you owe me such a debt."

She shook her head again, clutching him as she spoke with a tremble. "I can't, I can't, I can't..." over and over again.

He reached down and stroked her hair, as he'd seen human fathers do for their daughters.

Was she magically charmed to love her own slavery? He'd heard of such things but never seen it before. Surely Mr. Kegen would have told him and tried to charge him twice as much because of it.

He swallowed, luckily it appeared her old slave master hadn't known, and Lorkris took a moment to thank whatever gods were listening for that.

Charmed slaves usually met untimely ends, often brutal ones that were horror stories to those who heard them.

Humans, and even Drakon, could become terrible monsters when someone could not refuse their orders.

He would have it dispelled as soon as he could. But the simple fact that she was victim to this made his stomach riot and turned the pleasant taste of the meal she'd cooked into ashes in his mouth.

"It's okay... you don't have to be... free," he whispered, rubbing her back gently, feeling disgusted with himself as he said the words.

She hiccuped and slowly began to calm down. He picked her up gently and took her to the wagon.

"Sleep, rest, it'll all be better in the morning."

He paused.

"What is your name? Do you have one?"

She hiccuped, speaking in a quiet hoarse voice she wasn’t used to using. "My mistress... she called me Dore."