With a groan of wooden boards, the wagon wheel dropped into the rut in the road. As it rolled forward, the wagon sprang back up, out of the hole, shaking the whole contraption. The road, winding its way up through the rugged hills of Three Crowns Folly was little more than a dirt track, though hundreds of wagons and uncounted thousands of tramping feet going up and down had beaten the road into the earth somewhat.

In the back of the wagon, the jarring was enough to stir Elicia from her dozing sleep. As she sat up, the chains locking her hands behind her back rattled quietly. The uncomfortable feel of the steel at her wrists and ankles, and the heavy pressure of the slave collar around her neck had been with the Halfling long enough for her to grow used to the constant presence. Around her, the other kidnapped Halfling maidens dozed, there being little else to do locked in the cage that formed the main part of the slaver’s wagon.

Elicia was about to try and do the same, when she heard, coming up the road behind them, the sound of a large group of people coming closer. She turned her head, peering through the bars of the cage, more to alleviate boredom then any hope of rescue. Since the slavers and their helpless cargo had passed from the settled lands into the wilds of Three Crowns Folly, they had passed several groups of people, coming and going along the dirt trail. None of them had stopped to aid the maidens, despite their fervent pleas that they had been cruelly kidnapped by the wizard Gudrun and his henchdwarves.

“No one cares!” Gudrun told the glum captives, after the latest group of travelers had passed on, ignoring their cries for help. “This is lawless country. All that matters is that you’re in a cage and shackled. That makes you slaves!” As they got closer to the Slave Fair, they saw more and more groups with other slaves like them; masters returning from the fair with a couple of newly purchased slaves in tow, long coffles of slaves being brought up to the fair to replace them.

From the sound of things, the group coming up the road was another slave coffle. As they got closer, Elicia could hear the low, pained murmuring of the captives punctuated every now and again by the sharper crack of a whip. The Halfling watched through the bars of the slave wagon as the larger caravan approached. The first sign was a dust cloud, visible over the hills and scrub-brush of the countryside, kicked up from the dirt road by the bare feet of the captives. A little while later, the slave coffle appeared over a low hill.

They were human women, peasant girls from the east; tall, stout, with large round breasts. Their dark hair was long and disheveled. The slaves were naked, their bodies were grimy with sweat and dust from the road. A thick cord was bound around each girl’s throat, roping her into the coffle and their hands were pulled behind their backs, lashed at the wrists with more cord.

As they passed the cart, one of the girls, not more than 18 or 19, Elicia guessed, though she had trouble placing human’s ages, paused, raising her head up to glance at the captive Halfling as she trudged past. Clenched between her teeth was a thick wooden rod. Holes had been drilled in either side and threated with a leather thong, tied off at the back of her head. She mumbled something unintelligible around the wooden bit at Elicia. Before the Halfling couple reply, one of the slavers patrolling the edges of the coffle came up behind the human girl. With a snarl to “Keep Moving!” He brought his lash down against the poor girl’s naked flank. She grunted sharply, biting down on the bit, and hustled forward to avoid another blow. In a few minutes, the coffle had passed the slower cart behind.

On the afternoon of the next day, they arrived at the fair. The lay of the land; the curve of the road around the gently rolling hills and the scattered scrubland, meant they were practically upon it before Elicia and the other captives knew it. Ahead of them was a tall, palisade wall, enclosing an area large enough to have fit their whole village inside with space to spare. Yet, through the open gate, as they approached, the Halfling could see the inside was packed with row after row of tents and pavilions, crowded with people.

“This isn’t a Fair!” Elicia thought, her eyes wide. “It’s a city!” And a very cosmopolitan city at that. The Halfling saw buyers and sellers from every land she could name, and plenty more she could not. Humans a plenty, Halflings, Dwarves and even, Elicia’s eyes got even bigger; elves, from the northern forests, the isles of the Inner Sea and even the fabled Dragon Empire far to the west. From innkeepers and merchants looking over a line of serving girls to archmages and princes examining a set of trained elven concubines.

And everywhere she looked, the Halfling saw other slaves; standing on the market block being examined, caged behind the tent, waiting their turn to be sold; trudging glumly after a new owner on the end of a chain. From around the world, all had come, through misfortune, ill fate or treachery, to begin a new life at Three Crowns Slave Fair.

“And what do you have for us this year, Murtell?” A man called as Gudrun brought the cart to a halt. Elicia wriggled her way past some of the other captives to the other side of the cage. Through the bars, she saw a large pavilion, near the gate. A long table had been set up, emblazoned in the heraldry of the fair, red and blue, with three gold crowns opposite a pair of iron shackles. A half dozen men and women dressed in the same livery were perched over record books, scratching entries with quill pens; keeping a log of the slaves brought and sold at the fair. One of them had stood up and was walking around the booth towards the cart.

“Halflings from Moorlaand.” Gudrun replied. “And it’s Gudrun now. Few too many villages have death warrants signed for Murtell the Magnificent…they didn’t like me running off with half the village lasses in the back of my wagon!” He laughed.

The other man laughed as well. “One of these days they’ll hang you, and it will be a sad day here at Three Crowns, but in the meantime, let’s see these Halflings.” He stepped up to the side of the cart and peered between the bars. Elicia cringed back, her face flushing red with shame. She was awfully aware that, with her hands chained behind her back, her naked figure was on full display to the Twiceling.

“Eighteen untrained Halfling slaves…Fair’s cut is 250 a head.” The scribe told Gudrun.

“205!?!” Gudrun said, indignantly. “You’re bleeding me deep, you old brigand.”

The other man shrugged. “Halflings have been selling well this season. Trust me, you’ll still make a profit with this lot.” He grinned. “If you don’t like it, you can always take it up with Management.”

Gudrun abruptly ceased his protests. In a meek tone, he replied, “No, no. There’s no need for that. You’ll get your cut, sure enough.”

“Be sure of it.” The other man told him. “Anyway, you still remember your spot last year? Near the north gate. You’ll be just across from Lady Siri.”

Gudrun nodded in acknowledgement. He flicked the reins, setting the horses at a walk, slow enough to avoid running over any fairgoers who thronged the narrow pathways between the tents. The slow pace also gave everyone plenty of opportunity to examine the cart, it’s prominent sign and the Halfling captives on display in the back.  

“Fine Halfling Slaves for Sale!” Gudrun called out, his voice amplified by some minor illusion spell. “Gudrun’s Finest Halfling Slaves! Cooking! Gardening! Comforting! They do it all!” Heads turned as they passed, eyeing the helpless lasses in the cart with a calculating gaze.

The cart eventually came to a halt in a gap in the row between two tents, the area that had been set aside for the wizard and his wares. In front of them, a large purple tent was set out. Hung over the entrance was a wooden sign painted with “Lady Siri’s Quality Slaves.” Lady Siri herself, Elicia presumed, stood out in front of the tent beside a wooden platform on which stood a glum twiceling girl. The teenage human had her hands shackled in front of her, iron fetters secured around her feet. Through the gap in the front of the tent could be seen a stand inside, with several more girls chained up.

“Lady Siri!” Gudrun called out, as he hopped down. From the back of the cart, he unloaded a similar wooden platform, which he set down a few paces in front of the cart. His dwarf assistant busied himself unhitching the horses and leading them off to be stabled. “Always a pleasure to see you again. How does this season treat you?”

“Well enough you old fraud, you.” The woman replied back with a laugh. “Not as much of a crowd as last year…figured I’d have sold out by now. It’s like these girls don’t want to be bought.” With a grin, she slapped her slave across the backside. “Up straight, slave! Chest out! Spread those legs!” With a weary sigh, the slave obeyed, exposing her body to the leering faces of the crowd.

On the opposite side of the cart was a tall pavilion of red and purple cloth. In front, a jester performed, balancing on one foot atop a leather ball while juggling half a dozen smaller balls. She had on long gloves and stockings in a motely pattern, hung with merrily jingling bells, but between that, the elf was bare. She hummed a gay tune as she performed, attracting people to the tent and the slaves for sale inside.

Likewise, Gudrun did what he could to attract a crowd. The illusionist spread his hands, chanting arcane words to conjure up magic. A moment later, a shimmering figure appeared overhead. It had the shape of a Halfling maiden. She was naked, with an exaggerated figure; wide curvy hips, a waspish waist and a large round bosom. The figure was obviously a slave, with a collar round her throat and shackles on her hands and feet. Elicia turned her head away, cheeks flushed red as the lewd image moved, shaking her breasts, wiggling her bottom and calling out to the crowd in a sultry voice, promising her “master” the most shocking things.

With that sort of advertisement, it didn’t take long before a crowd had formed. Gudrun’s assistant came up to the cage door and inserted the key. The dwarf grabbed the lass closest to the door. The frightened Halfling struggled in vain as she was dragged out of the cage and to the slaver’s stand. The crowd closed in around the poor girl, not shy about examining her. Offers flew at the wizard from every direction. In no time at all, the first of the captives was sold. As she was led away by her new owner, the slavers returned to the cart for the next girl.

When she was sold, the Dwarf again opened the door. Many of the halflings shrank back, crowding at the far end of the cage, trying to get as far back from the slaver’s reaching hand as they could. Elicia didn’t bother, staying where she was. Trying to avoid being picked would do no good, she knew. All of them would, sooner or later, be dragged out and sold. “Better get it over with…” The Halfling lass thought with grim fatalism.

As it happened, the slaver’s eye passed over her that time, settling on the younger girl sitting beside her. With glum resignation, the girl shuffled the short distance from the cart to the stand. Then it was Elicia’s turn. Taking hold of the chains linking the shackles on her wrists, the slaver tugged sharply, dragging the Halfling through the cage door. She stood by, eyes cast down, as he slammed the cage shut and locked it once more, should any of the slaves be so overcome with fright to try and run.

“Ah, here we have a very fine specimen!” Gudrun said, taking Elicia’s chains from his henchdwarf. “As you can see, she’s a pretty lass in good health.” The wizard tugged on the handcuffs, forcing her to step up onto the wooden platform. He lifted the chain, jerking the Halfling’s arms up over her head. She was forced onto the tips of her toes, her naked body stretched out for everyone to examine. Her cheeked burned red with shame as eyes stared at her from all around. “If you’d care to have a look…”

Elicia raised her head, risking a look up at the crowd that had gathered around. Men and women, humans, dwarves, even one or two elves, stood over the trembling Halfling, eyeing her with a calculating eye, trying to decide if she was worth buying. As they did, Elicia eyed them in return. Silently, the halfling wondered what sort of owner they would be. The fat human man, was he an innkeeper, in need of a new serving girl? That woman, was she a noblewoman, looking for a new handmaiden? Would they be a kind master or a cruel mistress? Elicia knew her future would depend on who bought her, but there was little she could do to influence the decision.

A moment after few ventured a cautious offer or two, lowballing the price. Gudrun simply laughed and jeered at them, confident his wares were worth more. Sure enough, the prices offered began to rise, the wizard’s leering grin growing with each. “750 Gold Pieces.” An elf woman with light blue hair that matched her dress said. She leered down at the halfling. “She’ll make a fine addition to what I’ve already purchased… I’ve some…special customers who will be very interested once she’d had some training.” Behind the woman, a burly manling, who looked to have some ogre in his blood, held a chain lead that ran to a short line of glum, chained slaves, standing heads bowed in misery.

A horrified expression crossed Elicia’s face as she realized the woman was the Madam of a brothel. The halfling shook head head, pulling against Gudrun’s grip on her chained hands. “Please! No! Not her! Don’t sell me to a brothel, please!”

Gundrun simply laughed, evilly at his captive’s distress. He raised his free hand, fingers twisting into an arcane sign. There was a pop and a puff of smoke. A ballgag suddenly appeared in front of her, the leather plug forcing itself into her mouth while the straps flew around her head, lacing themselves together, tightly, at the base of her neck, keeping the gag secured. Elicia shook her head a few more times, mumbling garbled pleas.

“Sorry my dear, but unless someone else can bid higher…” Gudrun eyed the crowd hopefully. Elicia scanned the leering faces as well, praying one of them would. Whatever they wanted her for, wherever they took her, she didn’t imagine it could be worth then being sold as a brothel slave. To her horror, however, though some looked longingly at the naked halfling, no one seemed to have the money or the interest to outbid the elf.

“Sorry, my dear.” Gudrun told her. He reached out a hand, to seal Elicia’s sale with a handshake. The halfling cringed, unable to believe what was happening. Just then, there was a loud cry from the back of the crowd.

“I’ll bid 1000!” A loud voice said. A figure forced its way through the crowd, to the stand. He was as short as a dwarf, though Elicia couldn’t see anything more as the figure was draped in a dark green cloak, hiding his face.

“1000 gold pieces?” Gudrun asked. The newcomer nodded. Gudrun turned to the Madam. “Can you bid higher than that?”

She shook her head. “There are other slaves. I’ll find someone else.” She said. With a sharp nod to her bodyguard, she turned and strode off. He followed, dragging the coffle of glum girls behind him.

The strange man, meanwhile, stepped over to Gudrun. Elicia almost swooned with relief as the man drew a leather pouch out of his cloak and counted out her price in gold disks oddly shaped and covered in strange script. Gudrun weighed the amount in his hand, mumbling a spell to test the golds veracity. Satisfied, he bent over to shake Elicia’s new owner’s hand.

“I hope you get much pleasure from her.” He said, handing the chain to her shackles over to the man. The wizard straightened, gesturing to his henchdwarf. With a creak, the iron door of the cage was swung open and the next, sobbing captive was led out and onto the stand. Meanwhile, Elicia shuffled, uncertainly, after her strange new owner, as he led her away from the tents.

A short distance away, he suddenly ducked between two closed tents, dragging the startled halfling with him. “Alright, we’re out of sight now.” He said, reaching behind Elicia's head to unbuckle her gag. He reached up and pulled back his hood. Elicia’s eyes widened in shock, but her mouth spread into a grin.

“Uncle!” She started to exclaimed, recognizing her adventuring uncle. Hurriedly he raised a hand, urging her to be quiet.

“Not so loud, dear.” Uncle Tom said. “I can’t show my face on the Fair Grounds. Their management has had it out for me ever since an…incident with a kidnapped princess a few years back. I was heading home, hoping to surprise you, when I ran into a Ranger with word of the disappearance. I wore out a couple ponies riding here, hoping I’d get here before you were sold. Fortunately, my last trip proved profitable enough, I had enough to buy you.”

He reached up and pulled his hood back down. “Now, let’s get out of here. Unfortunately, I can’t unchain you just yet. As far as the Fair’s concerned, you’re still a slave and they frown on people letting slaves run around free on the Fair Grounds. But once we’re out of here, I’ll get those shackles off you and get you some clothes. And then, I’ll take you back home again…”