Clopin Trouillefou was in the middle of getting ready for yet another festival, when he heard a man's voice call out to every citizen of Paris from the middle of the town square. Clopin just shrugged it off, thinking that it was just some man who was trying to sell some merchandise by calling out for everyone's attention.

Go! A voice spoke from the back of Clopin's mind. You are needed there.

What am I needed there for? The question filled Clopin's mind while the Gypsy looked over different hand drawn plans to see how to begin to set up for the festival.

There is someone there that needs your help! The voice protested.

Letting out a sigh, Clopin set down his hand drawn plans. "Fine." The Gypsy said aloud. "If you'll stop negging me."

The voice that had spoken at the back of Clopin's mind, suddenly let out a laugh.

Clopin ignored the voice while approaching the town's square, already people had gathered.

Towards the front, commanded the voice.

Clopin obeyed. He pushed past the gathered people to see exactly what was going on - exactly why he was being interrupted from his planning. But when Clopin did finally reach the front, his gut twisted at the sight.

Seven women stood on a wood rack and the owner of the seven women stood near them. Each woman wore the same simple tan tunic and dark brown overdress with a red-and-brown striped cloth around her waist. The seven women were so thin that the cloth had been wrapped twice. All seven heads were covered by a light brown cloth to hide the bareness. And lastly, all seven women wore the shameful slave-necklace with a slate hanging from the end. And all seven women had frightened eyes.

Clopin watched in horror as each woman was untied and brought forth onto a huge potter's wheel. He ground his teeth while each woman was being showed off like some prize. To his realization, Clopin noticed that every other sign around the women's' necks had either For Labor or For Personal written across the wood. Clopin didn't need clarification on what the For Personal meant. Disgust enflamed his core.

There. At the very end. The voice that had spoke at the back of Clopin's mind a few minutes ago, now spoke up again when Clopin's eyes had landed on the woman the voice directed him to.

The woman was small and skinny, but from the looks, very strong. Good for a household slave. Clopin listened to the auctioneer voice as much. Then Clopin heard him open the bidding.

While the auctioneer opened the bidding, Clopin studied the woman more closely. She was young and strong, brown eyes instead of the blue and green he had seen in the six other women. But from the looks, the woman seemed to have lacked the proper food nutrients. Clopin felt as if the voice at the back of his mind had laid a hand over his heart and heard the voice softy speak: Save this one. I chose her for you.

Clopin didn't ask the why. He already had an idea what the why meant. So instead, Clopin approached the auctioneer with the fifteen coins in hand just when the auctioneer had lowered the bidding price to fifteen. He felt the auctioneer study him for a minute while the throng of people made crude and cruel insults about him purchasing the woman. Clopin ignored. He was used to being treated horribly for being a Gypsy. In fact, a lot of Gypsies were viewed as dirty and dishonest - doing whatever they could to survive, which a lot of the people assumed that meant taking advantage of others. But all of the accusations and insults were always the furthest from the truth. A lot of the people just didn't want to listen because they would rather be stuck in their superior thoughts, than actually learn the truth.

Finally, the auctioneer declared the last woman as sold and Clopin moved to stand at the foot of the steps of the raised wooden platform.

Clopin held out his hand so the woman could take it. He saw a brief glint of surprise in the woman's brown eyes while she struggled to walk down the stairs. Clopin figured it was from the lack of food, because she was haunched over.

Feeling compelled to carry out the planned action he had planned in his head the moment he purchased the woman, Clopin moved closer to the stairs just as the woman neared him, the Gypsy quickly cut off the binds that bound the woman's wrists together, then scooped the woman up into his arms before she lost her footing.

Ignoring all of the jeers and rude and crude, cruel remarks directed towards him, Clopin carried the woman back to his tent. The first thing he planned on doing, was getting some food into the woman after finding something more comfortable for her to wear.

Clopin Trouillefou was glad that he had taken a pause to go to the town's square. If he hadn't, who knows what would have happened to the woman he carried in his arms.

Clothing, food, then rest. Those three tasks were now the most important on Clopin's list. The planning would wait on the back burner.

Carrying the woman inside his tent, Clopin sets her down on the edge of his bed and begins tending to the red cuts ringed around the woman's wrists from the rope biting into her skin.

Clopin dips a rag into a bowl of hot water and then gently pressed the cloth against the rings' flaming red color; stinging, apparently, because he heard the woman slightly whimper.

Next were the clothes. Clopin moves to an ornate wood chest sitting at the end of his bed and, after popping the lid open, begins rummaging through it.

Finally, he pulls out a neatly folded pale pink dress and darker pink sash for the waist. He hands the garment to the woman, who gives him a brief look of shock before slightly smiling.

"Thank you."

Clopin smiles. "I'll let you get dressed. Then I'll make you some food."