#poor tel

The lilting voice snapped her out of her awe, running to catch up to the side of her master’s daughter.

”Sorry, Mistress Carria.” She got out, keeping in step with the younger woman. 

Carria chuckled, looking over at her with a fond grin.

”First time in a city like Minrathous right? Father said you lived in the wilderness before, this must seem like an impossibility to you and your people.”

A twinge ached through Tel’s heart at the mention of her clan. Or what had been her old clan.

When the slavers launched an attack on their settlement, Tel had been the first to see them and called out a warning. Her clan fled, disappearing back into the forest. Safe and sound.

Except for Tel. She hadn’t been fast enough and the Shem too quick. She had fought the best she could, but at twelve years old, she was simply too little to provide any real resistance. She screamed and screamed for her clan as they dragged her away in chains. 

It wasn’t until the slave ship departed the shores of Fereldan that she truly understood that the rest of the clan abandoned her to her fate.

That there would be no rescue. That she was now and forever would be a slave.

No longer Tel, the dalish Halla herder. Just Sarai, the Tevinter slave. 

“Careful!” Carria yanked Sarai out of the way of an incoming wagon. The momentum was enough to send both of the girls crashing to the ground, but Sarai managed to angle herself enough that Carria instead fell on her instead of directly into the mud. 

Quickly Sarai helped Carria up, bowing her head in deference, hiding a grimace as filth dripped down the back of her dress.

”I’m sorry mistress, I’m not sure what’s come over me.” 

Carria reached up to clasp a hand on her shoulder, a hand that Sarai instinctively flinched away from.

”Hey. It’s alright, Sarai. Truly. You’re safe here, with me.” Carria’s voice was soft, her words kind. Carria was a good enough person at least. A mage in training, the same age as Sarai. Sarai had been instructed to act as Carria’s personal assistant. Confidant, maid. Maybe even a friend. There were certainly worse masters to have. 

“Come on, we must stop at this one book shop. It’s incredible, they actually have some flying books inside the store, so you have to be careful with the door.”

Carria took off through the city, Sarai sticking close to her side. Sarai ignored the mud that was cracking and drying on her shift, hoping it did not drop on Carria’s instead.

The bookstore was indeed magnificent, as was the dress shop, and the shoe shop.

By the end of the day, Sarai could barely manage to carry all of what Carria had bought, arms trembling with effort as they walked back through the streets, back to the hotel that the family had rented for the night. 

As they reached the hotel, a loud crash of stone echoed across the road, proceeded by a shout of rage.

Sarai looked for the source, finding it. 

Just on the other side of the street, it seemed that a slave had dropped his load of bricks. Sarai had seen laborers all over the city as they shopped, walking past with their slave collars clinking in tandem to Sarai’s.

A man dressed in Altus robes perched over the slave who was crouched in fear, screaming at him for his mistake. As the mage screamed, Sarai could see a strap of leather in his hands. His own belt, pulled from the robes all Altus mages wore, Sarai’s master included. 

As Sarai watched, the master lifted his belt up and brought it down on the slave. Again and again. 

As the slave’s cries of pain echoed across the courtyard, Sarai looked to Carria. 

Carria simply glanced in the direction and shrugged, going into the hotel. 

The slave had pointed ears. The same as Sarai. As the leather started to split his skin, she could even swear that she could see the delicate branched vallaslin of Mythal over his face, matching the set that decorated her own cheeks. 

Tel couldn’t breathe.

”Sarai. Come on.”