“Up next, we have this pretty little thing...” The auctioneer’s cry was accompanied by the stamp of bare feet on the wooden planks of the platform, the bright jingling of shackles and the muffled squeals of the young woman as she was dragged up on stage and stood before the large crowd. She was a pale, dark haired slip of a girl, just 18 summers, according to the auctioneer’s patter, taken like so many others in the slave market by pirates in the northern seas. The dress she wore might have once been the sort of finery a rich merchant’s daughter would have worn though in the weeks since her enslavement they had been reduced to little more then dirty rags. Merchants daughter or not, it hardly mattered. She was nothing but a slave now. To the lustful cheers of the crowd, the rags were torn from her body, leaving her naked. Her cheeks flushed red in shame. Meanwhile, the bidding began.

Ja’an stood towards the back of the crowd, watching the proceedings with half an eye. He’d been coming to the slave market each day for the past week, watching the main auction stage without bidding. “Maybe today...” He thought idly, letting his gaze drift from the sobbing girl on stage to beyond it where the market’s slave pens were set up.

Captives stood, looking out through the wooden bars of the pens, or paced listlessly or simply lay sprawled on the dusty floors waiting for their turn to be brought out and sold. Visitors strolled between the pens, peering in, to see if any of the captive inside would be worth bidding on once they were up on the auction block. Ja’an had gone and strolled through himself, earlier that morning, but new batches of slaves were continuously being led to the market in dejected coffles, as fast as the auctioneers could sell them. Little wonder this was the preeminent slave market in the south.

“If she’s brought anywhere, it’ll be here.” Ja’an thought. The dark haired girl had been sold and led away and the next one brought up and stripped. The rest of the luckless girls from the corsair’s cargo were auctioned off in rapid succession. There was a pause, as the slavers hurried to collect the next lot of slaves from their pen. Some in the crowd drifted off, to examine the new lots themselves, or to seek refreshment from one of the many sellers who wandered the market with trays of food and drink.

Ja’an kept to his spot. A few minutes later, the auctioneer returned, motioning to another man who blew a horn, letting the entire market know the next auction was about to begin. “Ladies and gentlemen!” He called in a loud voice once the chatter of the crowd had died down somewhat. “Our next auction will consist of 24 slaves: seven males, twelve females and five youths captured by the forces of his most glorious Imperial majesty!” Rumors of the fighting had been trickling back for some time and now the first of the new slaves had arrived behind them.

Ja’an straightened up, focusing his attention on the stage. This could be it. He waited, impatiently, as the men were brought out first and sold. Then the first woman was led out. She was a broad, brown haired matron who glared sullenly at the crowd as she was stripped for inspection. No, not her. The next lot was a mother and two of the youths, a boy and girl both 18. Ja’an watched impassively as they were split up among three bidders and dragged away.

“Our next lot is something special, I’m sure you’ll agree.” The auctioneer said, eagerly, as another young woman was dragged by her chains onto the stage. Her fair hair, smooth skin and well formed body certainly set her apart from the rest of the slaves. So did her attitude, not fear, nor sadness nor even anger really, but a certain sense of outrage at finding herself in so shameful and degrading a situation. She regarded the auctioneer with barely concealed contempt as he tore the rags from her body exposing her to the gaze of the crowd.

“Now, what am I bid for this beauty?”

Numerous bids rang out, Ja’an among them. The girl’s price quickly shot up; fifty gold damachs...sixty...seventy five...a hundred. Most of the hopefuls quickly dropped out as they saw just how expensive this prize would be and gradually the field narrowed down to just a handful. Ja’ad had pushed his way to the front, to ensure his bids would be recognized. To his left, a man in the rich silks and gold jewelry of a nobleman lazily twitched his fingers up. To his right, a figure in a cloak nodded their head.

Well over a thousand gold pieces now. The crowd was growing excited, though they had no chance of winning, but wondering which of the three challengers would be the one to win. With an exhausted sigh, the nobleman signaled surrender. Ja’ad grimaced as the cloaked figure bid again, thinking to the carefully guarded pouch hidden within his cloak and the coins within. Already, they wouldn’t be enough, but he knew some money lenders, who came to the market both to ply their trade and to dispose of those unfortunates who could not pay them back. How much could he reasonably get from them, added to his own resources?

Whatever the amount it wouldn’t be enough. Ja’ad groaned and likewise bowed out. “Going once… twice...Sold!” On stage, a flicker of apprehension crossed the young woman’s face for the first time as she saw who had won the contest...who now owned her. Ja’ad slunk back into the crowd, keeping careful watch as the cloaked figure hurried forward to collect their prize.

“This makes things trickier...” He thought, getting ready to follow them...