Chapter 18: Deal

"This is Yulia," Alidorim stated, gently placing a hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. "You're going to help me take care of her."

The slave-Lesmythe-was the picture of shock; mouth agape while blue eyes blinked rapidly. Whatever the half-elf had been expecting, tending to a five-year-old Tiefling certainly wasn't it.

Rubbing her eyes and yawning, Yulia asked, "Who this, father?" Having just been roused from a deep sleep the girl was a bit slow on the uptake.

"Father!?" Lesmythe blurted out. When Alidorim looked up at her the woman visibly flinched and stared back down. "A-apologies m-master." After suppressing a cough, Lesmythe curtseyed saying, "H-hello young miss."

"Young miss?" Yulia repeated looking annoyed, "I not 'young miss.' I Yulia!" Fear flashed across Lesmythe's face. Unsure how to respond, her mouth opened and closed several times. She reminded Olkith of a doe he'd startled on the road; shock paralyzing its flight or fight response.

"Her name is Yulia," Alidorim growled squeezing the girl's shoulder slightly. Lesmythe gulped and nodded again. Other than apologizing and agreeing to whatever her master said, the woman seemed to have no way of communicating. The product of many years serving demanding owners, no doubt. Alidorim didn't care so long as she did what she was told. As far as he could tell the slave crest would only activate if she disobeyed his orders meaning...

"Your fate is tied to hers," he said, "You'll tend to her whenever I am away." Even though it wasn't much, Alidorim paid for her. He expected a return on that investment.

"Y-yes, master," she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. Lesmythe glanced up only when Yulia approached. The girl looked her up and down with obvious curiosity. Alidorim wondered if she'd ever been that close to a half-elf before. Unsure what to do Lesmythe remained still to be appraised by the young girl.

A few moments later Yulia turned back toward Alidorim, pointed and said, "What those?" Though void of chains, the manacles still clung to the half-elf's neck and wrists. Alidorim had forgotten they were there. Their presence seems superfluous compared to the binding magic of the slave crest.

Before he could explain, Yulia turned back to the slave. "They...hurt?" Her tiny voice was laced with genuine concern. The woman didn't have to respond. Even from across the room Alidorim could see the deep red scabs and split dry skin.

As the Dragonborn walked up to her Lesmythe took an involuntary step back. He wordlessly took her left hand and, with a bit of work pried the manacle open enough to slip it off. He did the same for the right. The one around her neck took more effort, nearly snapping in the process. The entire time the half-elf never met his eye and flinched every time his scales brushed against flesh. His jaw clenched; even a slave found him disturbing.

After presenting her an ointment, he tossed the useless manacles aside. At that moment a stomach rumbled. It was such a small pitiful sound that the Dragonborn looked at Yulia, but the little girl shook her head. They both stared at Lesmythe. The slave clutched the vial of ointment, her face a deep shade of red.

"You hungry?" he asked. Swallowing she shook her head. "Don't lie to me," he growled, "You can't get stronger on an empty stomach." With that, he turned and headed out of the room. Yulia began to follow but then paused. Turning she grabbed Lesmythe by the hand and pulled her along. The half-elf's surprise was almost as palpable as Alidorim's. Other than him Yulia had barely let anyone touch her, even the children at the river crossing.

Shrugging off the thought he continued downstairs. As the trio entered the tavern, he ignored the disapproving looks from the employees and patrons alike. After seating themselves as far away from the crowd as possible, Alidorim gestured for the waiter. When the human appeared to think he had better things to do the Dragonborn called out, "Can we get something to eat?" The waiter flinched and figured he couldn't pretend they didn't exist any longer. "The cheapest meal for me and two specials for them," Alidorim said dropping twelve coppers into the man's hand.

Lesmythe bit her lip nervously. "Why, master?"

"Why what?" he responded sharply making her wince, "You don't want that?"

She nodded but then shook her head, clearly anxious. "No, master it's just that..." she suppressed a cough before continuing, "Why get that for me?" She sounded like she didn't deserve it.

Alidorim answered by shrugging. He doubted the slavers had fed her more than gruel for who knew how long. Her cheeks were gaunt and eyes sunken. If he lifted her shirt, he was sure he'd see ribs. No wonder she was sickly, the half-elf was malnourished. She reminded him of Yulia in that regard. Speaking of...

Reaching into his pouch he pulled out his one remaining vial of medicine. Though cursing himself for having sold so many of their precious supply, the slave would be no good if she died from a curable illness. "Drink this," he ordered.

Hesitantly, Lesmythe took the vial, removed the stopper and drank. Almost instantly she started coughing and gagging. At least she didn't vomit. "It's...so bitter," she whimpered covering her mouth. "Good medicine is supposed to be bitter," he wanted to snap but kept his peace. Yulia looked at her sympathetically.

The girl's eyes sparkled when the food finally arrived. While Alidorim received three slabs of meat and a piece of bread, Yulia and Lesmythe got a bowl of sweet-smelling oatmeal, some small fruits and thick pieces of buttered toast.

While Yulia delved right in the half-elf hesitated. "You saving it for later?" he asked gnawing on his food. Lesmythe shook her head and after another brief pause took her first bite. An involuntary moan of pleasure escaped her with the mouthful. Soon she was wolfing down her meal with the same determination as Yulia. Her expression would've made him laugh if it also didn't remind him of certain 'other elves.'

Not wanting to waste his time thinking about former comrades, Alidorim instead focused on more pressing issues. That of an income. As a Level One Adventurer, his quest options were limited. Begrudgingly he accepted that he was going to have to start at the bottom...literally.

"To the sewers, I go," he thought sarcastically.

When the Dragonkin stated his intentions to take a job, Lesmythe was nervous, to say the least. Not that she desired to stay in his presence any longer than she had to. The half-elf wasn't sure about being left alone with Yulia. For her part, the Tiefling didn't relish the idea of her 'father' leaving her sight, even for a moment.

The Dragonkin assured her that he would only leave for his mission after she fell asleep and would return before she awoke. His words seemed to pacify the child's anxiety but only by inches.

That afternoon, as they waited for sunset, Lesmythe was fascinated by the odd rapport between the Dragonkin and the little girl. While the child referred to him as her 'father' it wasn't the paternal relationship she'd have expected. Her master was distant and never said three words if one would suffice. In his role as guardian, he was ever diligent, constantly aware of his surroundings and the proximity of his weapons.

Lesmythe had expected Yulia to act as children do when confined to a small room; plead to be let out and whine when they weren't allowed to. That had been the case for other children she'd tended. Instead, she found Yulia sitting across from her 'father' quizzing one another on languages. It seemed as much as the girl was learning to speak common, she was also teaching the dragonkin the Infernal dialect.

It was a bewildering dichotomy, to say the least.

When the grammar lesson concluded, the Dragonkin took Yulia through the process of making medicines from wild herbs. The half-elf noticed that their supply of medicines was nearly depleted but made no comment. She recalled how the master had traded many vials to pay for her clothing and weapon. This was a couple living hand to mouth and yet... "And yet he bought me and clothed me?" she thought curiously. Granted it was a paltry sum, but it looked as if the warrior could ill afford to be frivolous.

The Dragonkin had gone so far as to spend what little coin he had on a quality meal for herself and the child. All because she looked hungry. Who was this being?

As promised the master didn't leave the room until Yulia was fast asleep. Before leaving, he explained to Lesmythe that Yulia suffered from nightmares and required a sleeping draft to rest properly. He was about to depart when Lesmythe could no longer stave off her curiosity. "M-master?" He paused and looked back over his shoulder, "I-I don't wish t-to be f-forward umm..."

"Speak," he growled looking impatient.

Unwilling to look him in the eye, Lesmythe asked, "W-well...m-may I know...my master's n-name?" She fumbled several times but managed to get the question out.

Her master stared at her for a minute. Lesmythe shifted beneath his amber eyes but didn't move. Since being purchased she had yet to learn his name and Lesmythe couldn't keep referring to him as Dragonkin. Nor was she about to call him 'Father' as Yulia did.

"Alidorim," he grumbled turning back towards the door, "Alidorim Olkith. You may address me by either."

Lesmythe was surprised by the deference to use his given name. Still nervous she started to thank him when Alidorim cut her off. "You are not to leave Yulia's side while I'm gone." His voice was deeper, and the threatening tone made her shiver. "Should you abandon her," he turned to gaze down at her, his eyes filled with a malignant glare, "The pain of that brand will be the least of your concerns."

With that final warning ringing in her ears, Alidorim exited the room. Lesmythe was left staring at the wooden door in stunned silence. One moment she'd been garnering respect from her master, and the next...

Lesmythe shivered uncontrollably as she made her way to Yulia's side. "Who is that being?"