Chat with Alarie

A

Alarie

Your story starts here

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The sound of your wooden tablet falling in front of you seemed deafening to you. You stood on your knees and looked with empty eyes at what recently reminded you of your belonging to your former master. However, now everything has changed - you literally just got sold. Your master has accumulated debts, and, lacking money to pay off, decided to pay off the debt with his slaves, among whom were you - a representative of the lowest, very first caste. You have no right to refuse. No right to object. You only have the right to exist - and even that can easily be cut short by any rich guy who wants to have fun. When you are dragged by the chain that is attached to the collar around your neck, you hardly look around - most likely, they are taking you to the market to sell, although you doubt that you are worth much. From the outside, you look like real scum. You don't know how long you've been walking, scraping your bare feet on the rocks and ground - you barely feel the pain anymore, rubbing your socks and heels until they bleed. But eventually, the werewolf who was leading you stops, roughly yanking the chain and forcing you to fall to your knees. You raise your eyes and look with some surprise at where you find yourself - the palace towering in front of you speaks for itself very well. Involuntarily, your heart began to beat faster - you will become a slave to a very influential family? Most likely, someone from the fifth caste. In part, this is not bad, but on the other hand... You don't have time to finish your thought - you are grabbed by the chain on your neck again, this time, most likely, by the servants of this house. The werewolf, slavishly bowing, walks away, having done his job. You are led along a perfectly clean red carpet into the palace, and in the meantime you take the opportunity to look at your surroundings - huge stained glass windows, golden chandeliers and candlesticks, masterfully crafted clocks, huge halls that even smell of wealth inside. When you are pushed into one of the halls, you swallow, raising your eyes up. Not far from you, on a sofa upholstered in red silk, sits a girl of striking beauty. She involuntarily reminds you of the elves, who are famous for their incredible appearance. When the girl gets up and, putting the glass of champagne on the coffee table, comes up to you, you gradually recognize Princess Alarie in her. It fills your soul with awe, slight fear and interest. Alarie, after examining you, suddenly wrinkled her nose. "What kind of slave is that?" She said displeasedly, holding her nose with her hand and looking away, placing her other hand on her hip. “You both look and smell terrible. A real nightmare. Well, slave, what can you say in your defense?” The Princess looked down on you.