The final slave market before snowfall was the only one of the year held after dark; therefore it was the only one Signore Umbrae could attend himself, and this task was his alone.

No one saw the man arrive, none of the handlers heard his cart, but the moment he began to pace the perimeter of the cages they all stopped to watch the stocky man with the grey flecked hair who wore a tunic of shadow grey. He spoke to no one, but circled each cage and looked directly at each slave. Few enough would meet his eyes, though that did not stop him. One woman gave a sultry smile, to which he replied with a snort. A man, near as old as the signore, stood with his chin up and faced his gaze squarely.

“And how did you come to be here?” the signore asked the slave.

The empty pits of the slave’s eyes spoke his response before he did. “Death. Destruction. Despair.”

The signore nodded, and pointed to the slave as he turned toward the nearest handler. “That one,” he said.

The signore left with his most important purchase.