Priceless was not one to waste time, when the last drop of tea was emptied from her cup, she looked at the middle manager with innocent doe eyes that belied her active mind. “Please, good sir,” she extended her hand to gesture toward the door, “show me what my mistress has bought with her coin.”

The middle manager, somewhat at ease with what she had to say, rose slowly to his feet. She felt no real ‘hesitation’ from him, rather it was his portly size that slowed him down.

Priceless took up her mobile scribe kit, a simple thin box that held a small inkwell, a quill, and a sheaf of papers. She put the strap over her shoulder across her body and followed him. The office was close to the common pens where the first stock to be sold was kept in the offing.

It was a familiar sort of place to Priceless. Chains on the walls, but long enough for the stock to move with relative comfort. A drain that fed into the city sewer, and buckets for relieving themselves. It was crowded, with dozens of people along the walls, but it was clean. The reason why was evident, a wash bucket with a scrubber on a stick. Hardly luxurious, but enough to give someone a quick wash before they go up.

‘Sobella’s measures? Or Lur’gin’s?’ She wondered, and considered it was more likely a combination of both. As the companies specializing in the flesh trade went, they were reputable with ‘cooperative’ subjects, such that rebellion was rare.

None of the men had been clean shaven, and none of those with long hair had yet had a brush or comb taken to them. She looked over her shoulder to the middle man. “What are these?” Priceless asked, all business.

“Miners and low skill labor.” He said matter of factly. Priceless scanned their faces, they barely looked at her, or if they did, it was a darting glance before they found the floor or their feet to be fascinating again.

‘I’m just another mistress to them.’ Priceless thought, a wave of pity washed over her, but she held it like a wounded bird, mindful not to let it go.

“Are any of you able to read, write, or perform mathematics?” Priceless asked, moving her eyes over the deeply tanned faces. ‘Probably not, all farmers and farmers wives or worse, if I were to guess.’

No one answered.

“Do any of you have any special skills, or have you ever been part of any military service such as a militia or town watch?” Priceless asked.

Two hands went up. A young man and a young woman. “Speak up.” Priceless said, and when they flinched at her tone, she softened it, approached, and put her hands out to touch their faces. “It’s OK, just tell me.”

“We were in the watch. We weren’t corrupt or nothin though! That idn’ how we got here!” The young man exclaimed, “M’wife an’I, we… we ran inta debt buyin rice an grain after a bad harvest in our family’s farms… had ta feed our folks so… we bought off season on credit, couldn’t pay it back. Our parents, her’s n’mine were s’portin the loan see, so… so they were gonna lose the farms, ‘r go to debt prison’r get sold.”

“So you went instead.” Priceless guessed, and humble nods met her conclusion. “And why didn’t they borrow for themselves? Why did they make you do it?” Priceless asked.

“Well… well… cause they couldn’t… nobody’d loan farmers money, but we had jobs so…” The young sandy haired man replied and drifted off on his words when Priceless shook her head.

“I’m guessing they had very bad reputations, guilted you into making the loan, put their farms up as collateral to back it, then when you couldn’t pay it back either, they convinced you to offer up yourselves so they both got to keep their farms.” Priceless guessed the full story, “I’m sorry, both your parents… used you.” She said it with such obvious sorrow that she had to wipe away a tear while shaking her head, that it caused them to stammer stupidly until she collected herself.

“Well, welcome to the Breakers.” Priceless said formally and turned to the functionary, “Get their information, separate them from the rest, they’re to be shipped to Mistress Aiwenor’s estate for military training.”

She opened up her kit, took out her ink, and got both of their names and slotted professions. They stammered through it, utterly lost about what was happening, darting questioning looks about that nobody answered.

“This is the luckiest day of your lives, just keep that in mind.” Priceless said briskly and finally asked, “Are there any Komestrans here?”

And so it went, until they had inspected the entire pen, and two more warehouses besides, until they came to a place Priceless knew very well… a place she could never forget in a lifetime, and found therein a potato faced and potato shaped man that had, like those before him, haunted her nightmares.

The warehouse where she’d first encountered Duchessa Nua Calen Aiwenor. Priceless took one look at the ruined lump of a man, he was as greasy and smelly as she remembered, even through the open slat in the door, Priceless could determine that much.

“Open the door, Mog.” The middle manager instructed, the slat closed, the lock was undone, and it was flung open.

Priceless felt the rising fear, recalling his foul breath on her neck, his fat fumbling fingers, his piggish grunts, the feel of his greasy lips and greasy hair. But that memory of revulsion was not all she felt. She stepped through the open door and approached Mog, his clothing was cheap, dirty, pathetic. His deep set eyes bore the minimum of human intelligence, enough to keep control of a warehouse of caged stock and manage a private sale.

“So, your name is Mog, is it?” Priceless said, her exquisite, expensive clothing screamed absolute wealth. A few feet away was the cage that had once been her own. ‘The day a goddess came to save me…’ She recalled, and within the cage, there sat another in her place.

“Yeah, uh…” He scratched his dirty head and looked nervous all of a sudden as he recognized the purple tag hanging from the collar of bronze.

Priceless drew herself up, her back was straight, and she answered his unspoken question. “I am Priceless… Voice of the Duchessa Aiwenor, and I… I have not forgotten you.”

Mog began to sweat, the middleman who accompanied her joined the warehouse worker in that. The listless brown haired girl in the cage that sat with her knees up to her chest turned a suddenly interested eye to the exchange.

“Never met you, I swear it…” Mog replied.

Priceless nodded emphatically, her doe like eyes narrowed and her arms crossed in front of her. “Yes, Mog, you have.” She pointed to the cage by where he sat. “Her cage was mine. A few months ago, a late night bulk buy of twenty-five slave warriors, the demon-elf Kaiji Najin, and one worthless slave whose name you never knew.”

Mog stammered, his eyes searching her face and his memory, “Ah, well I remember that sale but…” He scratched his head… “ah don’t remember you.”

Priceless withheld the wince his forgetfulness almost induced. ‘Of course he doesn’t, why would he?’

As she looked the pathetic man over, she felt something else, a kind of pity. ‘He will never rise, he will never accomplish anything, he will never be remembered, never be loved, never have anything but brief grunts and a brute nature that will become harder and harder to satisfy with age… in time, he will wither up and be nothing but a pathetic, useless old man. He is almost punished enough just by being himself.’ Priceless thought, looking over the bellowing idiot, she wondered, ‘How can I be afraid of… this?’ Her derisive snort was audible, and she looked at him with quiet reflection before she spoke again.

“Apologize to me for what you did, and I will forgive you.” Priceless said gently as a wafting spring breeze.

He stared at her, “Didn do anything, so ah don’t have to apologize. It’s great that you’re a purple tag and everythin but… you got no power here, this is a Lur’gin company warehouse. Nobody’d tolerate someone, even a Duchessa, com’in in through a slave and sayin stuff like that.”

She sighed, exasperated.

“Mog…” The middle manager began to interject.

The girl in the cage inched closer as if to hear better, her hands grasped the bars.

Priceless raised her hand to stop the manager from speaking up.

“Is that your final answer, Mog?” Priceless asked with gentle reproach.

“Yup. Ah didn’t do anythin wrong.” He replied confidently.

“I see… I see.” Priceless looked over to the manager, “He has a debt with the company, I assume?”

The manager was tight lipped, “I’d have to check my records…”

Mog’s open mouth said plenty.

“I don’t, it’s on his fat face, probably fines for mistreating cheap or discipline problem stock. I suppose you kept him here because nobody else would take such a barrel scraping dangerous job at the bottom of the ranks?” Priceless asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’d have to check my records…” The manager said unconvincingly.

“Right… well… Mog, you’re fired, and your debts are being called in, I assume you have nothing saved…?” Priceless asked.

Mog looked past her to the middle manager.

“The Duchessa bought the company, you idiot! Why do you think her servant is here?!” The manager snarled at him, and all color drained from Mog’s face.

“I suppose… that will mean we take you to court, and you know where that will take you, don’t you Mog?” Priceless asked softly, waving a tender hand over to the cage where his newest entertainment sat.

He fell to his knees as his world fell down around him, the pain hit him, but he brushed it off and raised his hands. “Please, please don’t… I’m sorry, I’m sorry… don’t do this to me…” He was all but in tears and his pale face began to flush a bright red.

The purple tagged Priceless shook her head in sad refusal, “You gave your final answer, Mog. You can’t undo that now. But I’m not cruel, I won’t have you marked as a fallen overseer when you’re sold. You’ll be able to start over, wherever you end up. Maybe living among people like…” Priceless couldn’t say ‘me’ she realized in a blinding flash of understanding, so she pointed to the girl who might as well have been herself months before, “her, you will learn some empathy.”

“Go along now, Mog, go back to your home, enjoy your last true day of freedom. Someone will come along to collect you later. You can count on that.” Priceless’s voice was full of pity as the potato man scrambled for the door.

She watched him flee, and the manager asked, “You don’t think he’ll really wait there, do you?”

Priceless watched him disappear, a wail of anguish trailing behind him until he was out of sight. “No, Mog is stupid. He’ll try to run. For a while, he might even be successful, but eventually his information will circulate. There aren’t many potato faced and potato shaped people around. He will get caught by bounty hunters, he’ll be sold anyway to repay the cost of his debts… and he will be first on the list for all sacrifices to the Tlalmok. Mog will be walking to a terrible, agonizing death within a few years, and he will have done it to himself. I will be well avenged, then.” Priceless said and turned to look at the star eyed girl who watched a miracle unfold before her eyes from behind bars. ‘And I will never think of him again, not even in my nightmares.’ She thought of the fugitive that had ensured he slipped first forever beneath her notice, and then eventually down the gullet of a beastman family.

The middle manager shuddered. “Remind me not to make you mad.”

Priceless gave him a pleasant smile, “I’m not mad… I can’t hate anyone, not even him… but this is simply the path he chose. He would not let me save him from it.” She spoke to the manager, but her eyes turned to look at the reflection of herself, and she could not resist.

She approached and crouched down in front of the filthy, sweaty young woman. “What’s your name, slave?” Priceless asked the leather collared girl.

“I don’t have one… I’m just ‘Zero’.” She replied, lowering her head from the exquisitely dressed purple tagged Priceless.

“Alright… slave, can you cook, read, write, anything?” Priceless asked, slipping her right hand through the bars.

The young woman who called herself ‘Zero’ instinctively kissed the right palm and said, “Ah, well, I’m a very good cook… “

“Alright, well my mistress’s estate is short of cooks just now… and there are a lot of people to cook for. You don’t mind hard work, do you?” Priceless asked rhetorically.

The woman shook her head vigorously at the unlooked for salvation and with wide eyes, pressed her lips to the right palm again.

Priceless stood up, withdrawing her hand and facing the manager. “Have that one brought to the estate of Lady Aiwenor, ensure she has an iron collar and that it is understood she is to be sent to the kitchens. Now go, and wait for me outside, I want to walk through the rest of this warehouse, myself.”

As he began to leave, he turned to ask, ignoring the presence of the girl in the cage, “Why would you do that, anyway? She’s just a leather clad, you’re well past her now.”

Priceless looked at him with her soft eyes and gave him the most fragile of smiles, “If you have to ask, you wouldn’t understand the answer. However,” she paused to take a slow breath, “I will say this. What is the point of having a goddess of deliverance, if you don’t try to imitate her when you can?”

She saw how much that befuddled him, as well as the girl in the cage, but Priceless didn’t care about their confusion, she had her own tasks to attend to, and she intended to see them through, right to the very end.

Nua sat quietly reading while she contemplated Solution’s warning about Number Four. Part of her fought against the warning, but part of her recognized it for a genuine attempt at sound advice. ‘It makes sense… and… it isn’t like I have to treat her differently. It will just keep her behaving once she understands more about the outside world.’

She was just reaching the resolution to at least question the little blue haired girl herself before making a decision, when Kaiji entered the room.

The salon was one of Nua’s favorite rooms, a combination of library, tea room, and rest space; it held reclining couches with sloped curving backs, each one thickly stuffed with feathers for maximum comfort. It held row upon row of books, and several tables allowing people to sit in small groups rather than all together, allowing for more intimate smaller gatherings. Only two in the estate knew the inspiration for Nua’s selections. It was like one of Raymond’s rooms in his old home, and out of all her estate, it was the most like it. From the dark stained floors and walls, to the rich portraits that hung from the walls, even the way the light flooded in from the windows.

Kaiji set a small meal down in front of her mistress, bowed, her eyes lingering adoringly on the wood elf assassin, and then she withdrew. “I will take my meal in the servant’s dining area, mistress, and then wait by the door.”

Nua nodded absently, “Fine, and make sure Solution starts her appointments with the Komestran women soon, I know she won’t need any incentive to do that job, but… after it is over I should go visit them.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kaiji answered with a quiet reverential awe pounding through her body.

‘You know I could do that job just as well… oh but then you are a Duchessa now… I suppose you can’t go around doing that kind of thing, can you? You have to leave things for your servants.” Yersin remarked in a regretful sounding tone.

‘Precisely. Not to worry, you’ll get plenty of use soon enough, after the ball, when we march south.’ Nua told him, and she felt the gem of death in her false hand, pulse with eagerness.

‘Wonderful, I know you have to play these kinds of games, I remember when chess was invented, and one of myself was very fond of it. The long slow setup for the eventual kill, I, or he, was very good at the game.’ Yersin said with a hint of smug self satisfaction.

‘Really? I learned to play it, I’ll tell you what, we’ll have a game soon, Solution dislikes it. Kaiji may or may not have played it, though I think she’ll like it if she has not. For now though, just keep focused on the present. I want your impressions of the executives I am going to meet. I need to know something important.’ Nua answered with a small downturn of her lips forming a little frown.

‘Whether or not they’ll try to kill you?’ Yersin asked pointedly.

‘No, not at all.’ Nua replied as she took a bite of the biscuit Kaiji had left for her. ‘Freyjin’s recollection of Johan’s reaction tells me plenty, and as she says, these men rip children from mothers to make coppers. You don’t make that a career unless you have an easy time thinking of people as just livestock, or in my case, threats. So I’m almost certain they’ll try, I’m more interested in how long it will be, and how best to take care of them afterward.’ Nua answered while putting a slice of hot sausage in between the halves of a biscuit and taking a bite.

‘And that is why I am glad you’re my wielder.’ Yersin said, and she could practically see his gaunt, laughing face pouring tea within his little world.

Her eyes fell outside the window, looking over the grounds of her grandiose estate, she saw a few carriages make the slow turns that brought them onto her grounds.

As she quietly chewed and watched the ornate silver and golden carriages roll in one by one, Nua addressed her companion in the gem, ‘Thank you, Yersin, we’ll speak again later, but for now stay mindful, it’s time to play a different kind of game. It may not give you what you want right away, but good things come to those who wait.’