Fable - Ask A Chance Meeting

[Vulpesen]

Kherkhana. In regards to all the places Vulpesen had been, it certainly wasn't on his top ten vacations list, but that didn't mean that it didn't hold any significance for him. After all, during his last arrival, he had met a lovely elven woman who had taught him the was of geomancy. Unfortunately, today was not a day in which his patron was giving him such a payment. Rather, he was here on his usual business. Find a local slaver and remove him from power. ['You know, if you send me to the same place too many times, they will start to take notice of us,'] he said through the bond, sending his thoughts directly to his fey lord.

['Perhaps. But this man has been particularly cruel. I've had my eye on him and I am tired of letting him do as he pleases. Its time he learned that my agents exist outside of a few local legends,'] Varos replied. If Vulpesen didn't know better, he'd say that he could sense a certain malice behind his patron's whispering voice. Slavery was an affront to each of the Veran Spirits... but to earn the ire of one to this extent, he shuddered to think what happened within the oppressive walls of the master he was hunting.

He stopped at a nearby stall in the market and peered over the goods. He'd been here before, and looking over the blacksmith's blade and weapons he found himself just as impressed as his last visit. "Sir, are you looking to replace the weapon you have there? Or perhaps you'd like something to compliment it," the shopkeeper spoke, wiping some grime from his hands onto the brown apron that was tied around him.

"No, I'm afraid I'm rather attached to this one. Perhaps a dagger would come in handy though. I've seen your shop once before and I know that you're also a purveyor of telling steel. I'd like to see what daggers you might have of that material." While polite, he found his hand hovering towards the hilt of his rapier, tracing along the leather wrap and golden inlay on the hilt. One of the few relics he had kept from his past, the officer's blade was something he doubted he would part with any time soon.

Oscar Viotto

 

[Oscar Viotto]

Oscar was always a happy creature anywhere in Amol-Kalit, but today he was doing a favor on behalf of his lord. Aluicious Rosebury, the Lord of Luck, was a fae known for gambling, games, and business deals throughout Arethil. Oscar was his representative in areas where Lord Rosebury couldn’t appear officially, and in this case, to execute favors.

Oscar was settled happily in the market of Kherkhana, in a comfortable swing chair suspended from a considerable crossbeam jutting from the building above him. He had a parasol held in the crook of one arm that protected him from the sun; a relentlessly pink affair embroidered with peacocks and flowers. A woven rug spread out along his rented stall, and a length of white linen protected his goods from the worst of the sun.

His goods were the favor. Aluicious had recently turned over the majority of the staff at his estate. The House of Coins usually terminated staff on a regular basis to prevent them from accumulating too many tricks and secrets; and this included slaves. Being a kind sort, Rosebury was loath to just kill them. He’d sent them with Oscar to find them new homes. Most of them were a unique class of slaves known as pets; expensive, highly trained slaves purchased for very specific purposes. Sadly, once they’d aged and their looks declined, they didn’t have much resale value. Pets were as much a symbol of status as a useful slave.

Oscar looked them over. Three porters, two stable girls, fifteen maids, two cooks. Hopefully they’d get some decent offers to work in lesser houses of nobility. They were settled on the rug, wearing heavy brass collars around their throats that marked them as pets, and sipped small glasses of tea. Oscar wasn’t a monster; he wasn’t about to make slaves sit about in a busy market without a thing to drink.

Oscar dozed lazily, only opening an eye when curious buyers came to examine the pets. He permitted the usual for slaves; examining scalps, eyes, teeth, chatting with them to make sure they weren’t on deaths door or broken. He had to make it quite clear that the maids and stable girls were to be sold as pets, not brothel whores, but no one felt particularly strongly about arguing with a dead man that towered over them.

“Asha dear, could you put that singing voice to good use?” Oscar asked, lazily swinging in his chair.

One of the maids, a redhead that looked to be in her late twenties, struck up a soft and sweet tune about hummingbirds in a garden. Oscar smiled in approval, and closed his eyes to enjoy it properly.

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

After a few moments Vulpesen found himself a dueling dagger, its design somewhat similar to his own weapon. After a test of balance and feel, he accepted the small blade and haggled it down to an acceptable price. Passing over the gold and leaving the stall, Vulpesen continued on his day, his ears and eyes open to his surroundings.

While Vulpesesn wandered, he caught himself aiming his body towards a tune in the air, a melodious voice singing of green gardens. With the beauty of the song, he nearly forgot of the arid desert. Making his way towards it, however, his heart sank at the source. Women chained and collared as merchandise under the view of some swinging dandy.

"I always thought birds sounded better in the trees than in cages," the warlock spoke as he approached, looking over the girls. He was at least relieved that they had been given something to drink in the oppressive heat of the sun.

Oscar Viotto

 

[Oscar Viotto]

Oscar was content to listen to the music. Most of the pets were dozing boredly; there really wasn’t much to do or people to perform for in such heat. Oscar only opened an eye when he heard a man approaching, and sat up properly to regard him. “And yet a bird in the hand sings far sweeter.” He said lightly. “Do you see cages here? There are no chains on these slaves, only collars. If you seek common gutter slaves, you are mistaking nightingales for common ravens.”

The pets weren’t, in fact, chained. Only collared. They glanced at Vulpesen, and a few of the maids got onto their knees briefly to bow in respect. “Would you like to come sit? Oscar was wise enough to bring us the linen shade above your head, and our water is always cold.” Asha offered, pulling over a pillow so Vulpesen could sit.

“When selling pets one shouldn’t deign to look cheap.” Oscar pointed out. “And shade is a luxury that shines more than a pool of gold in the desert. It is a pity we’re turning staff over, Calva, or I might fall upon my knees for those treats you concoct in the kitchen. My dear stranger, my collector of birds, feel free to speak with them.”

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

Raising a brow at the unbidden offer, Vulpesen stood silently for a moment, pondering the situation. He had spent his life both before and after his contract freeing those caught under the net of slavery, and yet this situation seemed to not call for such actions.

Finally lowering down to sit on the cushion, Vulpesen looked among the girls, golden eyes roaming oer their dresses and collars. "Then tell me, how did you ladies find yourselves in such service as pets?" His eyes occasionally moved warily to the dandy presenting them. "If you don't mind my saying, you all seem rather content with your position, which is something I find a bit unusual."

Oscar Viotto

 

[Oscar Viotto]

Asha smiled at him and poured Vulpesen a cup of water. “I was kidnapped from the streets of Alliria. Persian does enjoy targeting street children.” She told him. “We’re taken, then I was trained in Pedeo and collared.”

The one named Calva shrugged. “Prisoner of war. I was sold to Persian, and trained up. There’s less abuse... and I suppose it’s easier than attempting to get home. As a pet I’m provided for. I don’t have to worry about where my next meal comes from.”

“My dear, what endears you to the plight of the slave?” Oscar asked Vulpesen. “They are as common as daisies all around Arethil, but I find the finest crusaders once wore the collar themselves.”

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

Listening to their plights, there was a pang of sadness that coursed through Vulpesen, though he kept his expression placid as he accepted the drink, taking a small sip from it. For a moment he thought on their words. In a way, he could almost understand their logic. Though to trade one's freedom in totality for meals and a bed was something beyond what he was capable of. Even in his arrangement with Varos, he had ensured that a fair bit of his own agency had remained.

Looking up at Oscar's question, he couldn't help the wry smile that touched his lips as memories poured into the front of his mind. "I was once part of a great warband. We travelled all over the land striking collars from pets and common slaves alike. To this day, my people continue their work. My own mission has changed a fair bit, though my own lord does like giving me doses of nostalgia. As it stands, now I am simply more selective of my targets."

Oscar Viotto