They say that life is cheap out in the barbarian lands. Men there who renege on their word or fail to pay their master his dues can be cut down in the street like a dog. But in the civilized arcanocratic states, it is worse, for the arcanist-lords know the value of every human life. And it never goes to waste. Should a man fall into debt, everything he owns, including his very body, is handed over to his liege lord to settle accounts. And the arcanists have cunning means to milk every last drop of value from them.

Surely it is better to die as a dog than live as one. In the druid-ruled cities, the penalty is to be collared and auctioned off at the farmers' markets.

"Loinclothes off, gentlemen, loincloths off! Let's show the customers what they're buying today," cackled Gadarast, whacking the three brothers on the rears with his gnarled staff. The eldest of them whirled at the old druid with fire in his eyes from the indignity but the other two held him back before he could strike. Gadarast giggled gleefully. "You should have heeded their wisdom before dragging them into your failed ventures. You will be transformed last, so you can watch and see what awaits you."

Around each of their necks were clipped the ancient collars of enslavement, sealed within each the essence of an animal. The eldest wanted to look away as their bodies began to bulge, their rags tearing around thick, hairy haunches and bulging, pink, milk-filled sacks.

With more whacks from his staff, Gadarast forced them onto the auction stage, before the eyes of the assembled farmers and townsfolk.

"For the crime of insolvency, I present to you today a special treat. A matching set! Three brothers. Three fertile, productive cows to make use of as you wish for a period of seven years. Bidding will commence at five silver pieces!"