• Closed • Fight or flight?

[Faith Augustin]

30 Ymiden 716

There was no doubting it to the young woman's mind. She was completely and utterly lost. It was not surprising, really. Although she had lived in the city for just over an arc, now, it had only been on the 1st of Ymiden that Jamal had informed her that was allowed to leave the shop at times of his determination and choosing. Faith was delighted at this freedom, still, and she had spent as much time as she was allowed exploring the city.

But there was no doubting it. On this trial, she was lost. She had turned where she should not have, or hadn't where she should and now she was somewhere she did not recognise at all. This was not too much of a worry to the young woman in and of itself, as long as she could find her way back to the undertakers in time. But time was something that she had plenty of at the moment, as Jamal had given her a task to do. To visit at least three herbalist shops and ascertain the price for the same four herbs in each. Write them down and bring them to him, find out if there were discounts to be had and try to charm the shop owner if possible. So, she determined that what she would do would be to turn around and head back until she found somewhere that she recognised, somewhere she knew.

And so, she turned. There were... people back there, watching her and walking with a little too much in the way of determination in their steps for Faith's liking, so she decided that she would change her plans and instead she turned back and started walking once again in the direction she had been moving when she realised that she was lost. She was wearing the outfit that Jamal had chosen for her for these trials, tight black trousers and a black strapless top; her long black hair was loose. She felt her shoes pinch her as she moved, but he had specifically instructed her that she was to wear them on the cobbled streets, so she did not even consider taking them off. Instead, she turned her silver-grey eyes forward and reassured herself that she knew who she was and what her place in this world was. If these people were what she worried they might be, then the worst that they could do to her would end and Famula's embrace would take her. There was no greater gift to her, so she had nothing to fear here. Although she believed it, her pulse still quickened and her steps moved faster than perhaps they should.

Those people, if their intentions were ill, would find a woman who was not afraid to die.

And who wasn't afraid to take as many of them with her as she could, she determined.

[Rafael Warrick]

30th Ymiden 716

The people Faith spotted numbered three in total. One tall fellow with a portly belly and grizzly beard, dressed in fine but dirtied clothes. The two others looked younger, edging into their twenties. Their clothes were plain and starting to fray at the edges and their toes stuck out from their shoes. They were whispering conspiratorially among themselves but ceased their muttering when they noticed the poor, poor thing that had come walking into their arms.

“Hold on…” the portly man bellowed when Faith turned. With a quiet nod, he ordered his henchmen forward. One of the youths drew a dagger while the other cracked his knuckles. They didn’t charge, but merely stalked after her in a brisk pace, easily catching up with her. “We just want to talk, dove” one of the youths grinned. He was missing most of his teeth.

“Yeah,” the other sniggered. “What’s a precious little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?”

They’d caught up to her by now, one on each side, slowly edging closer and forcing Faith to slow down.

“You lost or something?” the one to her left said.

“Tut, tut,” the other clicked his tongue. “Can’t run on those things…” He pointed at her shoes.

The portly man followed at a distance, rubbing his hands in glee. She was a fine little thing. Unspoiled, it looked like. Lost and unwanted too. The perfect prey for what he had in mind.

--

Rafael flared his nostrils. Andaris City was nothing like home. The streets were narrower, the air thicker, and a forest of houses surrounded him. Not the homely farmland sort he was used to, built from the strongest wood and meant to last for generations, but the stone sort, cheaply made and crammed between other buildings. The part of city he’d wandered into was particularly rickety. The streets dirtied his boots with a mixture of mud and other fluids that he would rather avoid thinking about. He’d been to the city before, but he’d been far younger then, and not alone. He’d seen the pretty parts then. The ones that were bearable. He could scarcely imagine how anyone could live in cramped little caves like the houses he saw around him.

Yet he marched on. The Squire’s barracks couldn’t be that hard to find. Eventually he would find the main road again and ask a stranger for directions.

But the strangers that appeared before him when he turned around a steep, narrow corner, wasn’t the sort he’d been hoping for. It took him but a second to realize what was going on, and he instinctively reached for his sword, but didn’t draw it yet.

The two youthful thugs halted and grimaced at the squire that had stepped between them and their prey.

“Is she with you?” he asked tentatively.

But before the thugs could answer, their leader had caught up from behind and greeted Rafael rather bombastically. “Ah! Young fellow! No need to worry, we were just escorting this…woman…back home.”

Rafael’s frown deepened. The girl was slightly shorter than him but bore the same raven-black hair. She looked, in all honesty, like a common whore, and he almost stepped aside to let the men pass through. It was quite plausible that they’d paid for her services after all, and he didn’t wish to involve himself in any unnecessary trouble.

But something told him these people weren’t together. Something about the portly man's sweaty face screamed deceit.

“Is it true? Are they with you?” he asked of the girl.

[Faith Augustin]

There were three of them, but Faith knew as soon as she looked that it was the fat grey haired one that was going to be the problem. He was the sort that was a bully and would encourage the other two to do his work for him; and they were both ugly and stupid enough to do it. Famula would judge them, she had no doubt, and Faith decided in that moment that, if they tried to put one hand on her, Famula would be judging either her or them in the near future.

Preferably them.

She did not answer when the fat one first spoke to her, telling her to hold on. She was not beholden to him, not in service to him; she had a duty to protect herself from such as these men, because the simple fact of the matter was that Jamal did not want her damaged by such as them. And she would have not spoken to them at all, but they caught up with her and forced her to slow down. She didn’t want to, but the fact was she couldn’t help it. They could see her slave brands clearly, there was no doubt, and people like this preyed on the weak and vulnerable. And they saw her as both of those things.
”I do not wish to talk to you. Go away and leave me” she said ”I am lost, yes, but my owner is nearby” it was true, as far as she was concerned. Faith was a strange soul and one of the things about her was that she did not lie. However, her true owner was Famula, first and foremost to the slave-girl’s mind and since her beloved Immortal was wherever there was death, She was undoubtedly nearby. Or would be. ”If you attempt to put your hands on me, I will kill you or die in the attempt” she said, calmly. Her silver-grey eyes were unwavering as she said that, and strangely she did not look like she was afraid.

But then, of all things, a man came round the corner. Was he one of them? She didn’t think so at first glance. Indeed, that first glance told a lot; he was wealthy and didn’t belong in this part of Lowtown, that was for sure. He had a sword that probably cost more than she did, his clothes and his entire demeanour spoke of wealth, not the kind of abject poverty that this place was home to. No, in a way she witnessed a man who did not belong here stepping around the corner. Strangely, although that gave her a flash of hope, it also made her feel a brief yet genuine understanding for the fat man and his two boys; they were of this place, whereas the Knight (for so he seemed to the slave girl) most certainly did not.

The fact that he was wealthy, of course, meant nothing in terms of this encounter and Faith wondered what he would do. A quiet and tentative question from him caused the fat man to step forward jovially. The Knight frowned deeply and Faith did not even realise that she was holding her breath, but she certainly was. As the fat man said that they were escorting her home, implying that she was a whore who they had paid for, she looked at the Knight and shook her head. ”No, master.” she said, quietly. Her voice when she spoke was hushed and she seemed to be used to speaking just barely above a whisper. ”He has a knife and I am on an errand for my owner. I told them that, then you came” she said and, just in case it needed repeating, and so that the Knight knew that exactly the same thing applied to him too, just in case he thought that he was going to join in ”I will not let them, or anyone, touch me. I will kill or die before that happens” she said, as calmly as if she was telling him that she would buy bread or cheese for breakfast.

And if either of them moved, if anyone tried to put their hands on her, Faith would indeed fight. She didn’t know how to fight in any fancy way, but she knew that a fast knee to the groin and fingers in eyes were a woman’s best weapon and she would have no hesitation in using them.

[Rafael Warrick]

30th Ymiden 716

Rafael listened patiently. His left hand still gripped his blade, but he’d eased up somewhat. These were nothing but common thugs who could be cut down like weed. For their part, the two lowborn saw yet another prey. Armed, yes, but rich and ripe for the plucking. They already edged forward to strike when their fat overlord whistled them back like dogs. What the dirty merchant lacked in looks, he more than made up for in mind. It was a rotten old mind to be sure, but rotten old minds were the ones that lasted in these parts of town.

The girl was fierce. A pretty thing, but not as easy a prey as he’d thought. The boy. Well the boy was clearly a noble. A trained noble judging from the lad’s attire. His henchmen were armed with rusty toothpicks for daggers and so there was no telling who would emerge victorious if a fight were to erupt. Dirty Diederik was not a betting man.

“There’s no need for violence,” he hushed. Up close, Faith would be able to see that Dirty Diederik had only one good eye. The other was glass and relentlessly gazed ahead. “Surely an arrangement can be made?”

Rafael narrowed his eyes. Unlike Diederik’s young dogs, he too understood that a fight would be an uncertainity. While his skill with a blade would have given him an advantage anywhere else, longswords simply weren’t suited for narrow alleyways. Besides, there were more of them, and despite the girl’s ferocity, there was no telling if she would stand with him.

“You’re right,” he said as he reached for his purse. When he’d fished twenty golden nels from it, he motioned for the merchant to come closer and poured the reward in the man’s big, cupped hand. “No violence. Just business.”

“Just business,” Diederik smiled. He snapped his fingers and just like that, the two henchmen turned around and retreated into the shadows, clearly dissatisfied with the lack of violence. But Diederik lingered. “Clever boy,” he said, almost lovingly.

“I am vastly overpaying you,” Rafael said coldly.

“Any reason?”

“Several.”

Diederik took a step back and cocked his head to the side. “A noble partaking in bribery. Quite the tale. “

“One people must’ve heard a thousand times. And one you won’t be telling regardless.”

The merchant’s smile widened. “My name’s Diederik. Breathe that name around these parts, and you may find me and my services here.”

Rafael nodded and then turned his attention to the girl while the portly merchant returned on the same foul wind that had carried him to Faith.

“You need to be far more careful with what you say,” he said as he made a full circle around the slave girl. He’d suspected she was a slave, but it wasn’t until he’d seen the marks that he was certain of it. And while he sympathized with her fate, he didn’t sympathize with her attitude. “Those people haven’t heard anything but threats for the majority of their lives, I imagine. They’re not going to be impressed by your attempts.”

A deep frown etched itself onto his brow as he stood before her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not afraid to die. But courage and stupidity are close friends.”

“In any case, it’s best not to linger. Do you happen to know where the barracks are?”

[Faith Augustin]

The knight and the fat man exchanged words, and coin, and Faith watched with a growing sense of trepidation. Did this mean that she would have to fight the knight now, for she could not allow him to take her anywhere either? She didn't want to fight a man whose weapon was probably worth three times as much as she was, but she would if she had to. But then, as the fat man disappeared back to whichever hole he had crawled out of, the knight walked around her in a circle, apparently believing that he had somehow paid for her. And then he told her that she must be more careful with what she said. And for the very briefest moment Faith wished that she was free. Free to speak, free to answer. Free to tell him just how terrified she was, and about how she didn't really give two hoots about what the men who would have undoubtedly abused and maybe killed her had experienced because frankly she would see their five and raise them twenty. All of that flashed through her mind, danced behind her teeth just itching to come out and yet, training won out.

"Yes, master" she replied, quietly and meekly. He stood in front of her and he looked at her like he was going to tell her off. She met his gaze and did not immediately respond, thinking carefully before she spoke "It was not courage, master. My owner has told me that I must be clear with any who would seek to hurt me, so that they know that I will die before I let them harm me. Because he has told me to" Raised in Athart, the young girl before Rafael was obedient in the extreme and, since her owner had told her to do so, she would. "If I had not been instructed such, master, I would let them find out for themselves, and maintain the element of surprise" she explained, honestly. Would she still fight them? Famula, yes, but they wouldn't know it until she was already embedding her knee or nail in somewhere soft.

But then, of all things, he asked her where the barracks were and Faith's silver eyes lit with a twinkle of amusement as she shook her head "I am sorry master, but I am lost. I would not walk here voluntarily, prefering to keep to safer routes, but I have only been allowed out of my owner's shop this Ymiden, so I do not know my way around. It is not that way, though, perhaps, since you came from over there, we should try this way?" she said, pointing to the way that neither of them had come from. "Thank you" she added, her voice soft and barely above a whisper "For not walking away, even when you knew what my worth is"

[Rafael Warrick]

30th Ymiden 716

Pale blue eyes hollow with hunger bore into his own. Her previous boldness made way for meekness. The transformation was so sudden that Rafael wasn’t sure if she was acting or not. “Your master isn’t very bright then. What use are you to him dead?” Thinking it a rather macabre topic, Rafael waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

When she reminded him she was lost, a flash of heat rose to his cheeks, but it vanished so rapidly that any onlooker might question if it’d really been there. He scratched the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. I’d forgotten about that bit.” Following her suggestion, he turned to try the direction Faith had pointed at and beckoned for her to follow. “No need to thank me,” he answered. “You look like you’re starving. Come.”

Leading the way, Rafael occasionally glanced over his shoulder, to make sure she was still following him. It didn’t feel right. To be worried so over a simple stranger, and a lowly slave at that. “And please don’t call me master,” he shot over his shoulder. “You’re not my pet. Nor anyone else’s for that matter. Servant maybe…but even that seems cruel to me.”

While he was equally lost in the confusing labyrinth of rickety houses and slums eventually, through sheer inevitability, they found their way back onto main street. After he’d asked a passerby for directions he managed to locate a bakery and ordered two currant buns at 1sn a piece. He plopped down on a low wall at the side of the rode and offered her the buns. “Eat,” he said not unkindly.

“You do understand why I paid Diederik off, don’t you?” He glanced at the bustling street for a moment. Droves of commoners moved to and fro. An elderly man dragged a heavy cart loaded with cabbages through the streets while a group of musicians busked at the side of the broad cobblestone road. Rafael’s gaze returned to faith. “They had an advantage, and I didn’t know if you’d fight or run. Besides,” a chuckle escaped him, “I don’t really know who you are anyway. I’m Rafael,” he extended a hand as though they were equals. “And you’re…?”

[Faith Augustin]

Her pale eyes looked at him as her head tilted to the side slightly. "If your shoes wear out, you buy new shoes. If I die, he will buy a new slave and hope that they are better and more fit for purpose than I was" she said, genuinely. So often, people thought of slaves as people, but she was very clear that this was not what she was, *especially* to her owner. To him, she was property purchased and, if she was defective, then she would be replaced. Of course, this was all tempered with the fact that she thought that the knight in front of her was right, but it was not hers to think and the simple fact was that Faith was too loyal, to subservient and too owned by the man who owned her for anything other than her defence of him.

She looked down at herself and shook her head "I am not starving, master. My owner feeds me often. Yes, master" she said, when he told her to 'come'. A one word command but she obeyed without question, walking behind him slightly and keeping up with him as he made his way. And he told her to not call him master; Faith's face showed her concern and anxiety over that; her owner had told her that she must call anyone not a slave either master or mistress. But he had also told her that she must obey those above her station unless he told her otherwise or for certain hard rules. So, she did the only thing that she could do in that circumstance "My owner has instructed me that I must call all men who are people not slaves master, and all women who are such mistress. I do this unless instructed in a different title by them, so what would you rather I called you?" she asked. If he didn't like master, then maybe he could tell her what he preferred instead. But cruel? She shook her head "It is not cruel to call a teapot a teapot. Nor a belt a belt. I am a slave and so, by definition, you are my master. You are a person and I am less than that. It is the way it is" she did not seem angry or upset by that, instead she simply accepted it and moved on. After all, she wasn't really in the position to change it.

When he put the bun in her hand, free of the winding streets and out once again in the open, she looked at him for a moment in surprise and pleasure and then ate. And her actions belied her words; the girl was on the verge of starving and even though she tried to eat genteely, she did not manage it. However, chewing the pastry she listened to his explanation of why he had done what he did and she looked at him most earnestly "You intervened for me when you did not need to. I would not have run" she insisted. He told her his name and held out his hand. Totally misunderstanding what he was expecting she fluidly slid off the wall, knelt in front of him and placed her forehead against his hand "I am Faith, master." she said, softly, looking up at him from where she knelt on the cobbled stone. "I am owned by Jamal the undertaker, and I am grateful to you for everything you have done" Her face was earnest, her expression sincere and serious. It wasn't helped by the crumbs from her current bun on her left cheek.

[Rafael Warrick]

30th Ymiden 716

And yet she continued to call him Master. He was used to being called Lord by his father's servants. But never master. Besides, House Warrick paid its servants. Perhaps he'd been sheltered from it, but as far as he recalled, his parents had never owned slaves of any kind. When she explained her true master's command to him, he listened and nodded. Her comparison didn't entirely hold up, though it was clear to him that she could not see any issue with it. Or perhaps she did, but simply didn't dare to say so. Whatever the case, it was almost a sick, twisted form of charity how her master had instructed her to serve all who crossed her path with the same slavish devotion. Stupid too, for it would make her easy to exploit. In truth, it was a miracle she was still in her current master's service. Any fool with a sharp enough tongue could've taken her for himself, he thought. Perhaps he could too.

He looked on patiently as she ate the buns, though he tried not to look too much for fear of making her uncomfortable. She was rather poor at hiding her hunger and despite attempts to show restraint, tore into the food like a starved dog. A fuzzy feeling bubbled up in his gut as he looked at her. It felt good to be able to help someone. As the youngest Warrick, he'd often been on the receiving end of help and rarely been able to help, truly help, others. He turned his head the other way and smiled to himself before he regained his usual stoic expression. An expression that was rarely broken.

But Faith managed to. As soon as he extended his hand, she lowered herself and Rafael could only look on in bewilderment as she practically knelt before him like he was some kind of god.

"What are you doin!-"

He yanked his hand back and looked at it as if she'd stained it with filth. Then his eyes flicked to her, almost angrily. But then he saw it, and his expression softened considerably. Slavish. It was in the word. She knew no better. This was her way of thanking him. He wondered how it was possible. How she'd been made to believe that she was truly a lesser being. His heart ached at the thought that Faith, despite her name, had no belief in herself at all.

"I...I meant for you to shake my hand," he stuttered, still taken aback by Faith's sudden action. "It's what people do," he mumbled, though he doubted she'd hear it. For a little while, he didn't know what else to say and simply gawked at her. She wasn't hard on the eyes, despite obvious malnourishment. "You've got-" he gestured at her cheek, but before Faith could act, he'd already brushed the crumbs away with a gentle swipe. "Crumbs," he shrugged. "Please do sit. You don't have to kneel before me. And I am not your master, Faith. Please just call me Rafael."

Another pause followed. The tough bit about being with the slave girl so far was that she, due to her profession, never showed any initiative unless explicitly asked to do so. And so any stiffling silence between them was entirely his fault. "I imagine you're not just strolling around without a purpose. Perhaps I can help with whatever your master wanted you to do?"

It was a bit of a lie. He just wasn't ready to part ways with the strange slave girl yet. Something about her had struck a chord deep within, and he wanted to meet her master, to see if there was perhaps some business to be done with the man...

[Faith Augustin]

Faith watched him, wide eyed, as he yanked his hand back and she looked up in concern as he sounded angry. She had obviously done something wrong but she did not know what or what he had expected of her. In truth, since being allowed out in to the city itself, Faith was discovering that people had relationships in very strange ways; they did not share their expectations or demands and yet grew upset when those expectations were not met. It was a very confusing thing indeed. But then he explained what he had wanted her to do and she nodded her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that" she explained, and then she looked at him and a sudden smile lit her face "That being the case, I must look ridiculous" her eyes twinkled with humour at the situation and she moved to sit next to him again with a rather perplexed look on her face.

His hand on her cheek was gentle and Faith watched his hand movement carefully, unsure of what he was going to do. But apparently it was "Crumbs? I was saving them for later" she said, with a slight upturn of her lips "Thank you, ma...Rafael." It was odd to her to use names, she had not really ever called anyone by their actual name and it was a strange thing to be able to do. But he had told her that was what he wanted and Jamal had been clear that she should acquiesce to the demands of others unless it was against his wishes or orders. She looked at him, daring to examine the young man sitting with her. She was not used to people, there was no doubting it but he was talking and asking her a question and she shook her head "No, not strolling, no." She was quite sure that it would be rare for a slave to stroll, all things considered. "My owner needs herbs, so I am to find three herbalist shops and compare prices. I must also try to secure the lowest price possible, trying to barter them down or offer them a reciprocal arrangement trading goods for goods" which, of course, included her.

But then, she looked at him and could not help but wonder "I don't think you'd like it if I have to offer myself to them in service for a trial or half-trial" though for the life of her she simply could not understand his reticence in such matters. He seemed to make no sense at all to her, "But I would welcome the company. However, you were looking for the barracks, I believe?" She was interested to find out if that was the case or if he was just.. well, lost. However, that brought on another thought, and a less pleasant one in truth "I am sure that my owner will wish to repay you for what you paid for me" she explained in her hushed voice. Jamal would *not* be pleased that she had cost him money, she knew that, and there would be consequences for it from him. But those were hers to have, not Rafael's to worry about, he had spent money protecting Jamal's property, and Jamal would not want there to be a debt owed of any kind. She kept her face stoic as she spoke, trying not to allow her expressions to show her feelings. She was much better at that usually, but in the specific circumstance of being alone with her owner. So, rather than worry about something that had not happened yet and was an inevitability, Faith smiled a slight, and vaguely cheeky, smile at Rafael "Do you know if there *are* three herbalists in this city?" she asked.

[Rafael Warrick]

30th Ymiden 716

Rafael’s eyebrows darted upwards. “Saving them for later?” He couldn’t quite tell if she was joking or not, but he chuckled regardless. “You’re an odd person, Faith,” he said in a matter-of-factly tone. Though it didn’t show outwardly, he was still reeling from the way she’d thrown herself at his feet just moments ago. She had shown no resistance. He could tell her to do almost anything, and she would, by courtesy of her strange master who’d apparently instructed her to obey even strangers. It felt weird. Not in the least because Rafael was almost certain that she was older than him and for as long he could remember, the eldest always ruled over the youngest, not the other way around.

Calming his mind, Rafael listened patiently as Faith explained her purpose this trial. “Re-what?” Rafael asked. “What does that mean? Resip-? Resiprowcall?” What Faith said next only confused him more. Her services?. He could only guess what those would be. But before he could ask for clarification, Faith switched topic to her master.

He already opened his mouth to protest, to tell Faith that she wouldn’t have to worry about any money owed. But then he thought better of it. Perhaps it was a good thing to be owed money. What he had heard about this Jamal wasn’t very pleasant. And being owed money put him in an advantageous position. Perhaps he could pressure Jamal to feed his property a little better, or buy her a map so she could find her way around. Perhaps he can buy one for me too, Rafael mused.

He jumped off the low wall and offered his hand to Faith. “Don’t shake it,” he warned, “I mean to help you down.” It was strange to have to explain the gesture, but not half as strange as having Faith kneel before him again, so he erred on the side of caution.

After he’d dusted himself off a bit, Rafael glanced around. “I honestly don’t know how many herbalists there are in town, but three seems a bit much. Then again, why would Jamal send you out on a job you can’t complete? That seems quite cruel.”

He glanced at Faith once more. Everything about her indicated cruel treatment. She still looked hungry and her clothes were wearing thin. He no longer doubted what Faith had said earlier about being replaced, and perhaps Jamal was on the verge of replacing her. Quite a waste. She seemed loyal enough, he could scarcely imagine how loyal she would be if treated properly.

“Let’s go visit your master,” he said with devilish grin. “I assume you know the way?”