Spark

Servus

Servus, it seems, is not a prison in the technical sense as you first thought.

The crowds lingering around the cages, viewing the creatures inside like animals at a zoo, indicate otherwise.

The glass-domed, nature filled arena jam packed with slave and free is simply a holding center.

A show room.

Full of cages trapping creatures of every shape and size, of every color and stature. It's like a collection of species, held here within a massive, glass-domed pet store.

But for what?

Thing pushes you forward, grumbling a garbled sentence of some foreign alien language to the winged man, who scans you thoroughly from head to toe.

"What is this?' you ask the man. Your voice, rusty with disuse, eeks out of you with difficulty. "Why am I here?"

Without answering your words, the winged man dips his fingers into the pocket of his loose white-trimmed pants, pulling out a small sack that rattles like it's full of marbles.

As he does, his fingers brush by an intricate sheathe hung at his hip, holding what looks like some type of sword. The handle sits, bejeweled and elegant, against his hip bone.

You try not to stare.

He throws the sack at Thing with an aura of superiority, never tearing his eyes from you.

"There's your payment," says the angel, in your language.

Thing seems to understand the sentence all the same, catching the sack in one giant hand and stopping for a moment to weigh it before humming in satisfaction.

It tucks the sack of what you assume is some form of currency into its vest, allowing the winged man to take the lead to your chains.

Then Thing turns and vanishes into the roiling crowd without a backward glance.

And, although you're glad to see Thing go, likely never to be seen by you again, you aren't all that confident that this angelic, winged man will be any better.

He's holding your chain now, scanning you as if checking for any imperfections.

Bile rises up in your gut.

You've just been sold.

"Don't be afraid," the winged man says suddenly. His angelic voice is meant to soothe and calm, but all you can do is tremble in horror. "You'll get sold for a good price here in Servus, little one. Humans always do."

A place of slave trade, then.

You're at a slave auction, watching as consumers stroll around the showing room to view the merchandise.

And part of that merchandise is you.

The winged man continues on, silky golden hair shifting slightly as he tilts his head. "Humans aren't all that common, and you're not strong enough for physical labor. You'll probably just be someone's pet. Easy life, that. You shouldn't worry too much."