Francis gazed at her silently. His mind had already figured out a way to meet a lot of slaves, although he hypothesized it would only make him hate himself more. I’ve already ruined this body. Let what’s left of it be used to save those like me. 

Francis somehow managed to put his own feelings aside, and turn himself into what he used to be before meeting Kori–a body with base desires. He winked at the woman with a mischievous smile. “Wealthiest woman, you say?” Francis had to choose his words carefully. He cleared his throat. “I’m a prostitute andillian. You would have to pay my master.”

The woman immediately looked reticent. It was permissible for elves to sleep with andillian, so long as they were legal prostitutes, but if friends and family found out, it would smear noble families. 

The woman looked him up and down, however, and he could tell she was sold. “Very well. Come to an alleyway with me and we can negotiate price.”

Francis nodded silently. He followed the woman out into the alleyway. He thought on his feet, making up a viable story in his head.

Francis looked at the walls in the alleyway–they were squeaky clean, despite the fact that dark, dirty deals were made in them.

Francis said, “My master is Garonoth. He prefers to keep the fact that he owns prostitutes quiet. It’s three gold pieces an hour. If it’s an orgy, it’s five. If you want to keep me, it's ten.”

The woman paid him ten gold pieces, and the next thing he knew, he was riding on the back of a horse-drawn carriage to the woman’s villa after learning her name, Kiara. He sat amongst other slaves, who he assumed were also prostitutes. He cleared his throat and asked the slave next to him–most likely an Andillian like himself, “What’s your name?”

“Rhodira.” the woman replied. 

Francis liked the tone of the woman’s voice. She sounded soft and sweet… 

Like Kori… he thought to himself. He felt his eyes welling up with tears, and pushed them down. He said to the woman, “That’s a pretty name. Who is your master?”

“The Joshane family.” the woman replied. 

Francis was shocked. “The family that prides themself on not owning slaves?”

“Funny, right?” Rhodira laughed half-heartedly. 

Francis could hear the defeat in her voice–the sadness, the resignation. He was horrified by it, and couldn’t believe how long he had ignored his own pain, and the pain of other andillians. "What’s it like? Being a slave there?”

Rhodira snorted. “It’s awful. I’m at the mistress and master’s mercy. They hit me and use me whenever they please. I live in their basement with about a three other slaves, and I’m starving.”

Francis listened, giving her his undivided attention. “That’s awful. I’m sorry. What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?”

Rhodira swallowed audibly. “It’s when they ask me to… entertain them and visiting guests.” 

Francis said nothing for a time. It had brought memories back. Memories of dancing in the queen’s gardens, doing repulsive acts for her entertainment. Francis felt his pulse racing. It was as if he was trapped in the gardens again--it was as if he were gathering dirt on his brother again–telling the queen that he was sleeping with the dwarven prince’s concubine to bargain for his freedom. It was as if he were choosing himself over his family all over again.

He snapped back to reality before the black pit of depression could consume him. “I might be able to help you.”

Rhodira rolled her eyes. “What are you gonna do? Make my masters nice to me?”

“Maybe. I would need your promise that you will say nothing to no one, though.” Francis whispered. 

Rhodira looked at him with wide eyes, wondering what trick he could possibly have up his sleeve–especially since his tone told her he was being completely honest. 

“What are you–” Rhodira began, but Francis turned to the man sitting on his right. 

“And you? What’s your name?” Francis queried.

“Hargon. I’m owned by the Lohaindrins–notorious, wealthy family. Survive on slavery, basically. Just as bad as Rhodira’s owners, if not worse.” Hargon sighed. 

Francis’ green eyes flicked at the slaves who surrounded him. “Are you all ready for change?”

They all exchanged glances, then nodded without a word. 

“If you mean that, then let’s all convene in the kitchen of Kiara’s villa.” Francis said. 

The slaves around him considered his words. He wondered if they would actually do it. The determined, tired look in their eyes told him they would, but he was unsure. Guess I’ll just have to see. 

Upon arriving at the villa, Francis clambered out of the carriage with the other slaves and Kiara. Francis looked upon the villa with jealous eyes. He and his family had lived in such a comparatively small home. Their father deserved to be paid more, but never would be due to the way the queen ran her kingdom . Furthermore, their father believed in the Old Gods, and would never be viewed as an equal because of it. The queen spitefully paid him less, even though he was the most talented Guard in her army. He had put down many border disputes, and Francis remembered him as a noble, just man, even though he hadn’t seen him in years.