Chiea got her first notification two weeks after they left Rused. They took her that night. Tyla held her as she cried, afterwards. All of the girls had gotten a lot closer over the last few weeks of captivity. The distinctions of tribe and country didn’t seem to matter as much any more. By that time, they were off the boat and living in a new city that they didn’t know the name of.

Sex was a constant part of their lives now. Their bodies were doled out as a reward to the guards and the guards in turn were used as a punishment. Uncooperative girls were given to the worst guards, the ones who would hurt them if they didn’t comply. It didn’t take them long to learn the rules. Once they did, though, they found themselves in competition with each other. Whoever pleased Master Malik the least would find themselves with the worst of the men in his employ.

It was different for Tyla, for reasons that Master Malik was happy to explain. He was pleased by the fact that she already spoke Elitran and often came to talk to her. At her, might be a better phrase for it.

“Your buyer,” he told her, “will want something exotic. A savage elf, fresh from the wilds! There are some that would prefer we left you entirely untouched, but the majority…”

He didn’t bother finishing the sentence, but Tyla was already aware of the cruel logic that overlaid their lives. Doxies got experience from sex, and Concubines were worth more than Doxies.

“So,” her owner had continued, “if we cannot provide a client with your first blood, we can at least provide them with an unbroken savage. They will enjoy breaking your will, training you into an obedient plaything.”

That was the reason why, of all the girls, only Tyla was not forced into sex. Not directly. She just wasn’t allowed to eat if she didn’t spread her legs. She always got the gentlest of the guards as well, a young man with an earnest expression who always backed off if she told him no.

The bastard would apologise afterwards, which made Tyla burn with an anger that she couldn’t express. Even if she did release her rage, her fists couldn’t do anything against his much higher Strength and Toughness. If she’d had a weapon to even the odds, perhaps…

Even her ineffectual flailing would mean that she went without food for another day. Despite the pain, regardless of the injury to her dignity, she made herself accept it. A level was a level, after all, and she needed them as much as her master wanted her to have them. A poor Ability progression was better than none at all.

The Traits helped. They were geared towards helping a woman survive this life she’d found herself in. From what she’d heard, the second Tier Courtesan class was more oriented toward pleasing her clients, but the base class was all about her survival.

Tyla wouldn’t have turned down Danger Sense, even as a hunter. She was hoping to escape before she got to level four, but Disease Resistance was another generally useful trait that was commonly offered at that point.

For now, all she could do was bide her time and wait for a chance. For what felt like the hundredth time, she reviewed her assets. Aside from the clothes on her back, she just had herself.

Tyla of the Padascar Tribe (Doxy Level 2)

Overall Level: 6

Paths: Padascar Hunter (Broken) / Doxy

Strength: 10

Toughness: 6

Agility: 6

Dexterity: 11

Perception: 13

Will: 7

Charisma: 7

Traits

Persistent Tracking

Silent Shot

Danger Sense

She was stronger than all of the other girls, but she wasn’t strong enough to bend bars or snap the collar around her neck. Surprisingly strong for a girl was all it amounted to. Her Dexterity was better, perhaps enough to pick a lock, if she had a tool, or any skill with such things. Or she could use it to steal a knife, perhaps? They kept her away from knives, feeding her only meals that could be eaten with a wooden spoon. She resolved to practice keeping a spoon concealed, in hopes of replacing it with a weapon.

Her best Ability was her Perception and it would surely come in handy. She just had to stay alert for her chance.

* * *

Today was the first special day. They were going to be shown off to prospective buyers. Master Malik urged her not to get her hopes up, reminding her that it would take time for word to spread about the ‘special jewel’ that he had available. As if Tyla should be eager to be sold. She didn’t manage to smile, but she nodded along with his words as if they meant something.

The reason for the occasion was that the other girls had learnt enough Elitran to obey basic commands. They were being shown off too, but with a much greater chance of actually being sold. The night before had been tense. No one knew if they’d see each other again. Hugs were exchanged and tearful goodbyes were made in case they didn’t get a chance later. Tyla cried as much as any of them. She had been separated from them by her race, but they were all slaves in the end.

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When they had been sold to Master Malik by the Empire, they had been walking pieces of meat. Stripped naked and paraded before the cold eyes of the merchants, who had cared more about the documents describing them than the actual people who stood there.

Tyla had expected more of the same, but this was retail. Master Malik wasn’t selling meat, he was selling the dream of… well, Tyla didn’t want to think about what he was selling, when what he was really selling was her.

In any case, the experience was very different. All the girls were dressed up. They weren’t wearing very much, but what they were wearing was of the finest quality. Makeup had been applied by the professional artist that Malik kept on hand. Another slave, of course.

Tyla had been given a dress to wear that was supposed to be like what she wore back home. She hadn’t been consulted. Instead of leather trousers, protective and easy to move in, she had been given a leather skirt of impossible thinness. It was cut tightly enough to be hard to move in, and it was short enough that it would ride up if she tried. They had carefully cut the hem to make it look like it had been raggedly made with a stone knife.

Her makeup was also designed to enhance her supposed ferocity. Like all the girls, she had been thoroughly cleaned before dressing. Now she was made up with streaks of fake dirt and a hint of blood going across her face. Her nails were painted red to imply, she had been told, that she had just buried them in the entrails of some beast.

It was all so very fake. Tyla would have just rolled her eyes and laughed at the absurdity of it, were it not for the fact that the intended result of all the artifice and frippery was her sale to some new master. Who would, presumably, rape her until she was a properly tamed savage.

It made her so angry she could spit. Spitting was forbidden, of course, but Master Malik was very pleased with the furious glower that she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“Very savage, darling,” the elegantly dressed courl said sardonically. “You’ve gotten it exactly right.”

Tyla tried to focus on the opportunity. There had to be one. They hadn’t left the compound, but they had been released from their cell. House slaves were running around, preparing for the event. Additional staff had been brought in, there were even a few early guests hanging around. The guards had too much to look out for. They must, inevitably, start losing track of things. All she had to do was make sure one of those things was her.

She started pacing, testing the limits of her leash. She encouraged the other girls to do the same.

“Separate out,” she said softly to Chiea. “Don’t move in a group. One of us might get a chance.”

A chance for what, she didn’t say. She didn’t know. She just knew that there had to be something, and moving around was better than staying cooped up in a cell. Which was an excuse she used when she was challenged on why she was moving around so much.

Her newly extended range was not greatly expanded. There were three connected rooms where they were being prepared. Combined, those rooms had seven more doors that she wasn’t allowed to go through. Five of those doors had guards. Three of them had guards on her side and the other two had guards on the other side, keeping people out. That still worked for keeping her in, however. Those doors weren’t supposed to be opened.

The two remaining doors were being used by servants. There wasn’t a guard on either side of them, but there was a guard in the room. Guarding a different door, but he could see the room clearly and warn her off if she got near the forbidden door.

Tyla glared at the guard. She was allowed to do that, it was in character. It wasn’t very effective though. He was one of the bad guards, the ones that the girls wanted to avoid getting given to. He ignored her glares with the equanimity of someone who knew nothing she could do could hurt him.

The moment, when it came, was the smallest of things. Two servants came through the forbidden door, laden with snacks destined for the guests. They both had their hands full, so one servant held the door open with his back, while his companion came through. At the same moment, someone tried to open the door behind the guard.

“Hey, back off buddy, you’ve got the wrong door,” the guard growled. The person on the other side tried to say something but Tyla wasn’t paying attention. The guard had turned around, and the way through the door was clear. She made a dash for it.

The servants shouted in alarm as she ran past them, but there was no way they were going to stop her. The guard, of course, would be after her, but he was going to be delayed by the person at the door. Maybe only for a moment, but that might be all she needed.

She quickly took in the new room. More servants, no guards, three doors, all of them open. All the servants were looking at her, but she didn’t stop. She picked one of the doors and ran for it. She didn’t have time to be sure, but it looked like there was natural light behind it.

Stepping through, she saw that she was right. There were people and things in here, but there was a shout from behind her and she didn’t have time to pay attention to them. The only important thing was that this room was on the edge of the building, and it had windows. Wide, open windows, the shutters flung back to let the breeze in.

They were up a level, she knew, but she had grown up in the forest. More specifically, she had spent a lot of time in the treetops. She knew how to take a fall. She didn’t pause at all and ran for the windows.

The guard hadn’t been delayed much at all, and his next shout came from within the room she was in. She was already leaving though, leaping through the window. Wherever it led, it had to be better than here.

Ironically, she wasn’t terribly worried about being caught. She didn’t want to be, of course. She would be punished. But she thought that Master Malik would be pleased by the confirmation that she was still untamed. The guard might hurt her, bringing her back in, but he would avoid damaging her if at all possible.

Assuming that she didn’t damage herself, that was. She rolled into a clumsy somersault, hoping to get her legs under herself before she hit the ground. She was a bit more agile now than she had been back in the forest, but she’d never been very good at these kinds of aerial maneuvers.

She managed well enough. It was fortunate that she landed on a manicured lawn instead of a wall or hard stone pavement. She tumbled to absorb the impact, as she’d practised back home. The breath was knocked out of her, but she didn’t think she’d broken any bones. Success!

The guard following her was more cautious, more deliberate, but also a lot more sturdy. He looked out the window and saw her, picking herself off the ground. He looked at his landing spot and casually jumped down, absorbing the shock by just bending his knees.

Tyla didn’t have time to watch his performance though, she was already running. She was still in the compound, she didn’t know where she was going, and there was a guard on her tail.

The end of the chase was easy to predict. Tyla was pretty pleased to have gotten as far as she did. She’d found a small shed with a low roof that butted up against the outer wall. It took her only a moment to clamber up on the roof and slip over the wall.

It was a moment that she didn’t have. The guard leapt onto the shed, catching up with her just as she was about to leap down. Freedom—so tantalisingly close— was snatched away from her, as the guard grabbed her by the back of her shirt and threw her back down into the compound.

The wind was knocked out of her, again, and all she could do was glare up at the guard as he looked down at her. Then, from far away, there was a loud crack, and the guard’s face became a bloody mess.

As Tyla watched, stupefied, the guard slumped down and fell, landing on the ground next to her with a muffled thud.

A strange, pale-skinned girl poked her head over the wall.

“Hey,” she said, as Tyla gaped at her. “You want to get out of here, or what?”