First Step in the new World

Ofelia's world had been a blur of chaos ever since that fateful day when the bandits captured her. She remembered every painful detail—the rough hands that dragged her away, the laughter of the men who tied her to the pole, and the cold, biting fear that had numbed her body. She had given up hope then, resigned to whatever fate awaited her. But something unexpected happened. A young man had appeared, fighting desperately alongside the guards. He looked inexperienced but determined, his eyes wide with fear and resolve as he swung his weapon clumsily yet with surprising strength.

She had watched him, unsure what to make of him. When the battle was over and the bandits lay defeated, she hadn't dared to believe she was saved. Even when the boy untied her and helped her to her feet, she felt hollow—like she was still trapped, just in a different way. The fear, the hunger, the exhaustion—they had carved deep scars into her heart.

Listening to their conversation she discovered his name. And then it happen. When she saw James collapse, screaming in agony as the Regalite bracelet fused to his wrist, she flinched, the sound echoing her own cries of pain from months past. She had expected him to die, like so many others who had tried to help her and failed.

But they have said that James survived.

The guards brought him back to the village, and Ofelia followed in silence, her legs moving out of habit rather than intent. The guards spoke to each other in hushed voices, occasionally glancing back at her with a mix of pity and suspicion. She could feel their judgment, their unspoken questions: Why save an elf slave? What good could come of this?

When they arrived at the guard quarters, they left her in a small, dimly lit room with a tray of food. It wasn't a cell, but it might as well have been. The food remained untouched for hours as Ofelia sat huddled in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest, but the days before, without food made her ate even if she would prefer to let it be untouched. She felt like a caged animal, waiting for whatever fate would be decided for her.

Several hours later, the door creaked open, and a man she hadn't seen before entered. He was thin, with a shrewd, calculating look in his eyes—a slave merchant. Her heart sank as he approached her, a crooked smile on his face. Without a word, he grabbed her arm and led her outside, where a small cage waited. The merchant pushed her inside and locked the door with a metallic click that echoed in her ears like the final toll of a bell.

The next two days were spent in that cage, exposed to the elements as the merchant tried to sell her to anyone who would glance her way. She could hear his sales pitch, the way he downplayed her worth, calling her a troublesome elf, difficult to manage, but fun if you had those kind of perversion. It stung, even if it wasn't surprising. She had heard it all before. Elves were seen as weak, sickly, and undesirable. The prejudice against her kind was a familiar ache.

Ofelia watched as people passed by, some glancing at her with mild curiosity, others with open disdain. No one showed any interest. By the end of the second day, she overheard the merchant muttering about cutting his losses. "If no one buys her soon, I'll take her to the mines. They'll pay at least a small sum, and I can be rid of her," he grumbled.

A flicker of fear pierced her numbness at the mention of the mines. She knew what that meant—backbreaking labor, a slow death in the darkness underground. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the thought, feeling the familiar grip of hopelessness tighten around her chest.

It was then that she saw James again.

He appeared suddenly, walking through the market with a tall, stern-looking man she recognized as one of the guards from before. Her heart skipped a beat, a confusing mix of relief and fear swirling inside her. Why was he here? Had he come to buy something, or was he just passing by? Did he even remember her?

Ofelia's breath hitched as James's gaze locked onto her. His eyes widened, a flicker of recognition passing through them. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her. For a moment, the noise of the bustling market seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that shared look.

"Hegor," she heard him say, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "What's going on there?"

Hegor followed his gaze and let out a sigh. "Ah, that's a slave merchant's cart. They come through the town now and then..... likely heading out to sell his stock at the mines..... Elves don't sell well these days....."

Ofelia's chest tightened at his words. She lowered her head, the weight of her situation pressing down on her like a physical force. She was nothing but a burden, an unwanted commodity no one cared about. She tried to brace herself for the inevitable, but James's next actions caught her completely off guard.

He approached the merchant with a determined look in his eyes. She couldn't hear everything they said, but she saw the way the merchant's face lit up with interest as they spoke. The words "two gold coins" drifted to her ears, and her breath caught in her throat.

He's going to buy me? The thought was absurd. It made no sense. Why would he want to do that?

The next few moments passed in a blur. She watched, almost in disbelief, as James handed over the coins, took the key from the merchant, and unlocked her cage. The door creaked open, and she hesitated, half-expecting it to be a cruel joke. But gave the key back and James stepped out of the way, giving her space to step out.

"Master…" she whispered, lowering her gaze. It was all she had known to say, the title she had been forced to use for so long.

"Call me James," he corrected gently. His voice was soft, not demanding or harsh, but it carried a weight that made her look up at him. There was something in his eyes she hadn't seen in a long time—kindness.

Hegor sighed, clapping James on the shoulder. "Well, kid, you've made your first purchase in this world. Let's hope you know what you're doing."

James nodded, his eyes still on her, filled with a mix of emotions she couldn't decipher. He didn't seem entirely sure of what he had done either, but there was a resolve there she couldn't ignore.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

Ofelia hesitated for only a moment before following him. She had no idea what the future held now, but one thing was clear—James had chosen her. For better or worse, she was his now. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt the smallest flicker of hope.

As they walked away from the market, leaving the cage and the slave merchant behind, Ofelia glanced back one last time. The sun illuminated the surroundings. She took a deep breath, the scent of freedom filling her lungs. It was a feeling she had almost forgotten.

Perhaps things were about to change. Perhaps this young man, with his strange kindness and determined eyes, was the one who could finally break the chains she had carried for so long.

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James led the way from the market, his steps slower and more uncertain now that Ofelia was following him. He kept glancing back, still trying to process everything he had just done. The realization that he now owned a slave—a person—was heavy, and he couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest.

Hegor walked beside him, his expression unreadable. He hadn't said much since the purchase, but James could feel the guard captain's eyes on him, observing, waiting to see what he would do next.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Hegor," he began, his voice low, "I… I've never owned a slave before. What am I supposed to do now? Is there some kind of registration, or paperwork? And what exactly are my responsibilities here?"

Hegor glanced at him, then at Ofelia, who walked a few paces behind, her gaze fixed on the ground. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, kid, you've certainly got yourself into something complicated. Normally, when you buy a slave, there's a registration process handled by the merchant. They sync the ownership through your Regalite, which you already did back there. Legally, she's yours now, as far as the system is concerned."

James frowned, glancing down at his wrist where the Regalite pulsed softly, still displaying occasional glitches. "And what does that mean exactly? I'm responsible for her now, right? Is there anything I need to know?"

Hegor gave him a thoughtful look, his tone turning more serious. "Yes, you're responsible for her well-being, her food, her safety. If she gets hurt or dies under your ownership, it could cause problems for you, especially if anyone accuses you of mistreatment. There are laws in place to prevent abuse, even for slaves. And if she tries to escape, it's on you to handle it. But given her condition, I doubt she'd try anything like that."

James glanced back at Ofelia again, her thin frame and hollow eyes a stark reminder of the harsh reality she had lived through. He felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't bought her to own her—he had done it because he couldn't stand the thought of her being sent to the mines. But now, he realized the implications of his decision. He was in way over his head.

"What about her status as a slave?" James asked hesitantly. "Is there a way to change that? To… free her?"

Hegor's gaze sharpened, and he stopped walking, turning to face James fully. "You could free her, yes, but it's not that simple. Freeing a slave is a legal process. It requires an official at the guild or the courthouse to verify and remove the ownership from your Regalite. And beyond that, you'd be responsible for her transition. Most freed slaves have nowhere to go, no way to make a living. They end up right back where they started—if not worse."

James absorbed the information, feeling the weight of it settle heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "So what do I do now?" he muttered, half to himself.

Hegor clapped him on the back, a bit more forcefully than usual. "You take care of her, like you would any member of your team. Make sure she's fed, sheltered, and treated well. In time, you can decide what's best for her. For now, focus on the present. You've got a lot to learn about this world, and so does she."

James nodded slowly, feeling slightly reassured but still overwhelmed. "Thanks, Hegor," he said quietly.

The guard captain gave him a half-smile. "Don't mention it. Now, are you going to keep wandering around like a lost pup, or should I show you the way to the merchants?"

James let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm definitely lost. Lead the way."

Hegor laughed, motioning for James and Ofelia to follow as he took the lead. "Come on, then. It's this way. The merchants you're about to meet are quite the pair—Redan and his wife, Mira. They run the best weapon and armor shops in the village. Just be prepared—they argue like cats and dogs about which is more important: armor or weapons."

As they walked, James fell into step beside Ofelia, giving her a small, hesitant smile. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, unsure of how to talk to her now.

Ofelia glanced up at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before she quickly lowered her gaze again. "Yes… Master," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Call me James," he corrected gently. "You don't have to call me Master."

She nodded, but didn't respond, still keeping her eyes trained on the ground. James bit back a sigh, realizing it would take time for her to adjust. He couldn't expect her to trust him or feel comfortable right away—not after everything she'd been through.

Hegor glanced back, noticing the interaction. "Give her time," he murmured. "She's been through a lot. It's not easy to shake off years of conditioning."

James nodded. "I know. I just… I want to do the right thing for her."

"You've already made a good start," Hegor said with a nod of approval. "Just keep going, one step at a time."

As they walk, James noticed Ofelia shivering slightly in the cool evening air, her tattered rags offering little protection against the elements. As they made their way through the market, a small kiosk caught his eye, its display filled with simple but sturdy clothing. The merchant, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile, greeted them warmly.

"Looking for something specific?" the merchant asked, glancing at Ofelia and immediately noticing her state of dress. He gave a sympathetic nod, understanding the situation without a word needing to be said.

"Yes," James replied without hesitation. "I need boots, a pair of trousers, and a shirt for her. Also, um… underwear," he added in a whisper.

The merchant's eyes softened as he quickly selected a few items from his stock. "This should fit her well enough. Durable, nothing fancy, but it'll keep her warm."

"How much?" James asked, pulling out his coin pouch.

"12 copper coins," the merchant replied, handing over the clothes.

James counted out the coins and handed them over without a second thought. "Thank you."

The merchant gave a nod of appreciation. "You're doing a good thing, sir."

James took the bundle of clothes and handed them to Ofelia. She looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and gratitude, her hands trembling as she accepted the new clothing.

"Put these on when you can," James said gently. "I want you to be comfortable."

Ofelia nodded, clutching the clothes to her chest. "Thank you… James," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

James gave her a small smile. "Let's get moving. We still have to make it to Redan and Mira's shop."

Hegor, who had been watching quietly, clapped James on the shoulder with a grin. "You're learning fast, kid. Taking care of your own. I like it."

James just nodded, feeling a sense of quiet satisfaction as they continued on their way.