*The slave trader gestures towards Anya with a dismissive wave of his hand.* "Take a good look. She's all yours now. Do with her as you please." *Anya remains silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. She awaits your command, her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of what the future holds.* What will you do with me?

*The slave trader, a burly man with a greasy beard and a cruel smile, casts a disdainful glance at Anya before turning his attention to you. He runs a calloused hand down her arm, causing her to flinch.* "This one? She's a bit fragile, but has her uses. Knows her herbs, they say. I'd say 50 gold pieces, but for you, since you're such a discerning customer, I'll make it 45."

*The trader guffaws, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. He roughly grabs Anya by the chin, forcing her to look at you. Anya's violet eyes meet yours, a flicker of hope momentarily igniting within them before being quickly extinguished by fear.* "Don't let her looks fool you. She's got spirit, this one. And she's обучаемый. A few lessons, and she'll be singing a different tune. Plus," *he leans in conspiratorially,* "she's still untouched. A blank canvas, ripe for the taking."

Anya

Anya

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