Jesker paced the clearing impatiently. The grizzled, gray haired man pulled his patched, stained cloak closer around him. Though it was only Autumn and the ground was clear, the wind had a sharp chill to it that warned that winter was fast approaching.

 “Damn it all...what’s taking him?” He growled angrily. It was still only midday, but Jesker was impatient. He wanted to conclude business here and get moving to the next village.

 This was a good time of year for men of his trade. With winter fast approaching, all the peasant households would be eyeing their dwindling stores of grain with dread, mentally calculating how closely they would need to ration it, to feed their families until spring while yet keeping enough seed to plant next years crop in the spring. If things got too narrow, they would have a hard choice to make, whether to risk starvation or get rid of the useless mouths among them. And that was where men like Jesker came in. This was harvest time for the slave dealers.

 “Bet it’s just some scrawny old bag of bones…” He muttered, kicking at a pinecone. The message he’d received hadn’t said much about this deal, hadn’t said anything really since this fellow, like most peasants, couldn’t read or write, but it crudely indicated the time and the place for the meeting: a glade in the woods, just outside the village. While doubtless the village gossips would spread the news soon enough, selling your kin to make it through the winter required some discretion.

 A rustling in the underbrush announced the approach of someone, several someones actually. Jesker turned, giving a terse, “Finally” as a dark bearded man in a peasants tunic appeared through the trees. Two shorter figures trailed behind him. A craggy grin crossed the slave dealer’s face as they came into view. He’d been off the mark, supposing he’d be getting some elderly relative deemed a useless mouth. Following the older man, their father Jesker guessed, were a pair of peasant girls, dark haired like him, the older of the two barely a summer or two shy of full womanhood.

 This was not uncommon either. It was an old story Jesker knew very well. It was near time for the girls to wed, but their father couldn’t afford a proper dowry for one daughter, let along two. Without that, there was little chance of them making a good match which would bring the family and greater wealth or social standing which made them useless to the family just as much as if they’d been old or crippled. Sometimes there was a stepmother involved, looking to get them out of the way and perhaps by selling them raise the money to provide her own offspring the dowry they couldn’t give the older girls.

 Jesker stomped forward, forcing the grin from his face and giving a scowl of disappointment, less the farmer guess his girls real worth and drive a hard bargain. The other man stood, awkwardly. When Jesker said nothing for a long moment the man spoke, hesitantly. “I...I have come as I said. I bring these two girls to sell.” He waved back to the girls who huddled close together, looking scared and bewildered, as if they couldn’t believe they were here.

 The slave dealer stepped over towards them, ignoring how the girls cringed beneath his gaze. “Yes I see...hmmm...pretty plain looking…” that was a lie for both girls were quite fair looking, if not full beauties. “...little on the scrawny side…” Another lie. The older of the girls was tall and shapely with strong looking arms and legs. The younger was less so, but she’d fill out well enough in the slave dealer’s experienced eye. “I don’t suppose they have any skills worth mentioning?”

 “They can cook and clean.” The other man said, “And they can spin thread and weave cloth.” Jesker gave a dismissive wave and a grunt and wasn’t entirely lying that time. Such skills would be useful to the girls in their new lives. Doubtless their future owners would want their slaves to keep house and assist their mistress in her sewing, but such were the usual skills of any slave girl of peasant origin, hardly likely to distinguish them on the auction block.

 “Well let’s see, I think I can offer...Fifty for the older girl and...um...thirty for the younger, in silver” Jesker said after a second, affecting a casual easiness as if he cared little whether this man sold his daughters to the slave dealer or not when in fact he was quite eager. Both would fetch him a good price in the cities once they’d been suitably prepared and trained for their new lives.

 “Eight and sixty.” The peasant gruffly replied, doubtless driving a hard bargain in his mind, but silently Jesker rejoiced. The amounts were less then half what the girls would have been worth in a fair deal. “Oh no no no…” He said, shaking his head. “That’s too much. It may be sometime before I can find buyers for the two. I’ll be stuck with two useless mouths, eating me out of house and home…ninety for the both of them.”

 “120.” The girls watched their father and the dealer haggle back and forth over their price. Perhaps they held out some hope the men would not be able to come to an agreement and they wouldn’t be sold at all. If so, they were doomed for disappointment. At 110 pieces of silver, the two men agreed and shook hands, sealing their fate.

 Jesker took his money pouch out and started counting out a handful tarnished coins that probably had as much real silver in them as a lead pipe but the badly clipped circles bore the scowling face of the king which meant they came from the king’s mint and spent as well, at least in theory, as the much better, older ones he kept hidden in his cart.

 The peasant eyed the coins but said nothing, doubtless having expected no better. At any rate, they made a pretty pile in his hand and a nice bulge in his coin pouch. He turned, his eyes lingering on his two daughter  with a guilty expression for a long second before he hurried back the way he came without another word.

 Jesker, meanwhile, looked over his new slaves, giving them a stern look which couldn’t quite hide the glee at his good fortune in this deal. The girls stood, heads bowed low, silent.

 “You belong to me now.” He told them, “I expect obedience from my property. Hold your hands out.” Sullenly, the slaves did as ordered. On the slave dealer’s belt, beside his money pouch, he had a few pairs of handcuffs. Two of these were snapped onto their wrists. Meek as they appeared at the moment, Jesker wasn’t going to take the chance they might get it into their heads to run off before he could get them back to his dungeon.

 A long rope was next, tied around the girls’ necks, with one end left dangling as a lead. He took this in hand, giving it a tug. Glumly, the slave girls trudged after him to the road where he left his cart, it’s rear built into a cage, already half filled with his human cargo. Once they were locked in with the others, it would be on to the next village to relieve it of its useless mouths and, once the cage was filled back to his dungeons to prepare them for the auction...