Felicity shivered slightly on the stage. Although she was dressed warmly enough, the auction block gave her a horrible sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. She sat on a stool, her slender ankles bound by a thick and heavy chain, and her slim wrists bound equally as tight behind her back and weighed down with a great iron weight. None of this was necessary however, as Felicity had no intention of running. She was not stupid, she knew that failure to comply would result in her death, although in her case it might have brought her peace at last. But she sat there, a blank stare on her face for the audience. Her eyes barely moved, the pupils pale and milky in their blindness, but her senses were acute, and she saw much more than people gave her credit for. She turned her head slowly to look at the auctioneer, her sensitive ears perking up.

 

"Alright ladies and gentlemen," said the middle aged auctioneer. His hair was combed over his large baldspot and oiled to greasy perfection. "Today I bring you item number 23102, Felicity Du'vall. She is not much in the way of looks as you can see, not ugly, but not very well rounded, a very youthful look. She is blind, but can still function very efficiently, and is mute, so there is a guarantee that there will be no talking back. Item number 23102 has demonstrated abilities in cooking, cleaning, organization, and other houshold chores. She is what we call a rank C slave, not top notch but with use. We shall start the bidding at 100 Gold."

 

The auctioneer leaned against the podium, looking out at the audience expectantly.