"Take your hand off what is mine. Unless, of course, you prefer the convenience of wearing all your rings on a single hand." The words of the priestess were sharp and direct. They cut through the heat and the market noise the way a needle parts skin, leaving the silence behind them neat and trembling.
"C'mon, you know that I can't do that. You're a priestess of the moon, you're not allowed slaves. So just sell him to me, he has good hygiene well kept and good looks…" The merchant's breath smelled of sweet wine and roasted spice. He did not look at Ludwig when he spoke. His eyes clung to the priestess as if her consent were a purse already half opened.
The priestess did not even say another word as she looked at Ludwig and simply nodded.
