When I had first met my Master I was in quite a miserable state.

I was burned all-over, my right eye was goners as well as a part of my right arm. On top of that I limped as one of my left leg’s tendons was cut. One of the fellow slaves said that such wounds could never be recovered from by natural healing.

As I later learned from Master according to Status Check I had lost about two thirds of my health points in that fire. Or maybe more, I could have healed a few points due to wounds and burns healing somewhat.

Our fates intertwined in a pleasant slave-trading facility ironically named “The Helping Hands”. The hands in question were those of the merchandise – my fellow slaves. The owner was a middle-aged lady Marielle. She was a good mistress, certainly when compared to my first master, but she was no altruist.

I came as attached, almost free, living goods. The whole bunch of us sold to the highest bidder. Thankfully the city justiciar overseeing the fire aftermath made sure of that we were treated as a group. It ensured anyone buying us would have to take care of everyone, even those of low-worth like a maimed half-elf.

In the end out of everyone from my former master’s place I only knew what happened to Winnie. She was also wounded and we spent together some time in the infirmary. After she healed unlike me she was promoted to the nurse taking care of everyone else. That included me, most of the time.

The fate of the others was unknown to me at the time. They were probably already sold to the highest bidder. Marielle was not the one to keep too much merchandise to herself form what others gathered. So much unlike Dwamak.

While recovering I was able to learn the Velian alphabet and the basics of how to read and write. Mistress wanted us to be of use, even when handicapped like that.

I feel I should re-state how hopeless my situation had been. I had no prospects of getting sold to any respectable master. I was maimed. I might possibly die due to my wounds continously festering. The medicine given to us was scarce after all.

I felt truly miserable. The guilt of what I did, the fire that I caused. It consumed many of my friends and hurt others. The one I subconsciously wanted to hurt miraculously survived. The only upside was that awful Dwamak got hit on his fat pockets. And Winnie was thankful for the fire in a way.

“I mourn our fallen comrades, but thanks to that I no longer have to.. with him..,” she said more than once.

She was the last thing keeping me sane. Still I did not dare tell her the cause of the fire. She might make me suffocate in my sleep. I would do that to someone as awful to me as I was to her.

Some nights I wished it was me that died that night. Hopefully along Dwamak himself. Make sure he never got lost on his way to Hells beyond.

Some days I yearned for death due to the pain of wounds. Both corporeal and not.

This was one of those days.

A monotony of suffering in the infirmary was interrupted rudely by a visit of another client with the servant slave.

As they were passing by he gazed at me with pity in his eyes. He smiled gently and I returned the gaze for a little while just to see who was the client that entered.

It was only a quick glance. I knew attracting attention to myself could end with me serving a horrible master. I was useless, no one would buy me unless it was for some kind of further mistreatment. I knew I was also not the prettiest of female slaves so I could never dream of pampered life as a ‘pleasure’ slave.

That fate was also cut from Winnie’s future. While her injuries healed, she was scarred for the rest of her life.

That lingering gaze disturbed the servant slave. The clients had to pass through infirmary on their way to see other merchandise. Kind of a bad design, but I dared not make my thought aloud.

They discussed the economics of healing slaves with magic or potions. The client asked about me and I dared another gaze from beneath semi-opened eyelids. He seemed kind of handsome and tall for a human. His equipment suggested he was some kind of mercenary, maybe an adventurer, maybe a soldier in the employ of some noble. The equipment was far from being shabby or poorly maintained. He was definitely a rich client and those were the worst. Free person with a heavy purse would never treat cheap slaves with care. They can always buy a new one.

He asked about any magicians recovering in the infirmary. Thankfully no one in the room knew I casted magic to set fire to my former master. Then the servant slave rang a bell that made the mute sound of incoming trouble. Such small magical artefacts were used to inform our mistress that her attention was needed, usually to serve esteemed clientele.

At this point they left to see more of the cages and cells with slaves. I drifted back to sleep as I had nothing else to do. Maybe this would be the day I would tell her it was all me so she would kill me.

„Elfin, I order you to wake up and stand up!” ordered the voice of my mistress.

I was shocked awake and had no choice, but to follow such direct order.

„Yes, mistress!” I blabbered.

“A client wishes to see you. Make yourself presentable!” she ordered.

Winnie run to me and started changing the dressing on my wounds and washing my face frantically. I tried to help her, but with one hand I was more of a nuisance.

Mistress Marielle grumbled and the male servant slave hurried us up.

Our efforts were like using a bucket without the bottom. Hopeless. I was not going to be any prettier.

Mistress left the room and we followed. I was ashamed to limp and slow them down.

The mistress was not pleased.

“Just carry her till we reach the room,” she said while grimacing.

He carried me like a princess and I trembled in his embrace. When we reached the corridor I had never seen he put me down, fixed his and mine clothes and said:

“Look lively,” he advised me before opening the door in front of our mistress.

The man from earlier was here. My fate was grim. At least my end would come sooner than I would have guts to realize it myself.

“You haven’t shown me that one before. I am afraid I might not be able to afford such a high class lady,” he greeted us.

He could not have meant me. No way, did he say that about my mistress?

The mistress laughed while cold sweat sprinkled on my back.

“You could make a career as a minstrel. If you ever find yourself in dire straits do not hesitate. I would love to own such a fine and humorous man,” she replied.

I knew she was pissed. I might get beaten tonight.

Mistress Marielle introduced us. I was named after a slur towards elvenfolk, but the stranger did not even flinch.

The mysterious client insisted on not being a noble. His name was Lynks of Krark. He mentioned to be from the city of the dead. I honestly do not know what that could mean.

Now that I could observe him for longer and up closer I noticed there was something uncanny. He looked uncomfortable to be here. Perhaps his joke was because he was anxious. That makes two of us.

He quickly cut through the small talk and shot down my mistress attempts of gathering information about his financial stature.

Mistress Marielle proposed to sell me for 7 keshes, which was an outrageous price for a useless piece of half-elf meat like me. She must have been truly pissed as she continued to criticize the client’s choice of merchandise. I heard normally she was more amiable towards clients.

The mercenary said he needed a meat shield in the party and that I would do fine. I could not help but to shiver a little. Then it turned out I was going to be his first slave and he were unaware of any laws in regards to slavery. This was bad.

My mistress explained the night duties privileges of slave owners to the clueless mercenary. I sighed inwardly. I wish. If I end up a pleasure slave it would be to some sadistic monster.

Mistress made an enticing smile. Was she trying to use seduction to negotiate a higher price? She was really trying hard to rip him off. Obviously she had some other high quality slaves in mind like the one snuggling up to him on the couch.

“Would you mind if she sat down?” asked the client.

“No, not all. Sit down, Elfin!” she ordered, “It’s customary for those of lower standing to stand in presence of their betters. This applies to all strata of modern society, mister Lynks,” she explained.

I was astonished that he noticed I was limp and cared enough to relieve me of standing. Might be a mistake due to him not hanging around with slaves in the past. Let’s not keep up hopes, Elfin.

I swear I could feel someone’s gaze, but I was probably just nervous about this sale. I had only ever been sold once after all. While I felt that they were discussing clothes and additional purchases.

“..and a set of maid uniform. The sexy kind,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not aware of such clothes existing anywhere in Ythall.”

“Ah bummer. Maybe I need to level up my slave first to unlock the clothing?” he muttered to himself.

I do not think my mistress heard him, but I definitely did. What does higher level has to do with new clothes? What is the sexy maid uniform anyway?

The final amount exchanged was 9 small silver and 3 large bronzes. I added it on my fingers. It was exactly 2 325 monies. A slave could live for.. a very long time with this much.

Mercenary asked to be left alone in the room with me. Mistress Marielle worried about him trying out the goods and dashing out of her shop. Who knows if he had the money or not. I only had one red-blooming flower to lose and when I would have it taken my value would plummet even more.

He silenced such doubts by taking out a golden coin out of his purse. That was enough to buy one, two.. ten of me. His purse was fat and my mistress certainly noticed that. Maybe in the future I will even have a meal each day!

He made a sour face for some reason. Even more so when mistress wished him an enjoyable time.

Everyone left us.

I shivered yet again. Please, not here. They will hear everything from behind the walls.

I know modesty is not for slaves so I steeled my will and tried to come to him as he ordered. My ankle gave in and I stumbled back onto the floor. It was painful and sudden. It made shed a tear. Now I am going to get punished for my insolence.

“Sorry about that. I forgot about your injured leg,” he said and sat on the floor in front of me.

I am going to lose it on the dirty floor.

He wrinkled his nose. I must smell terribly. Though it is not like I can smell it anymore I know I am dirty. My cheeks were hot with shame.

“Are you okay with being bought by me?” I was asked.

What a nonsensical question. Just buy me or not. I am not a free person.

A most nonsensical conversation followed and I replied to the best of my abilities. I even warned him that he was overpaying for me. This was a risky gamble. If he decides not to buy me I will get punished for it.

Finally he asked about magic and I promptly denied. I could do that since I was not ordered by mistress and the collar would not enforce his orders before the masters switched places. I wonder why he asked about that. My mistress already informed him otherwise. Could he have heard about the incident?

“I think you would make a truly extraordinary fire mage,” he said with a devilish grin.

My god, he knew. I am doomed. Dwamak probably sent him to buy me back and torture me. I need to run away. He wanted me to confess. Even made a point of mistress healing me if she ever learned of my arcane skills. Healing magic does not work on dead people though.

He dropped the topic, but asked about my lineage, which was unknown. Perhaps Dwamak had it written down somewhere, but most of his records went with flames. What parents could a half-elf bastard like me have.

He made a speech alluding to my secrets. Then he proceeded with talking about trust and companionship. I decided to play along.

“Join me, Elfin! Hold my hand if you want to leave! This slave shop that is,” he said reaching out to me.