Ah, the night markets. Secretive. Lucrative. And downright disgusting.
Whores sold themselves to disguised aristocrats, drunkards brawled on street corners, and lice-ridden peddlars sold bits of junk for extortionate prices.
So why, then, was the Le Croix family getting involved?
Simple. The Slave Markets opened at night.
Lucien could list dozens of reasons why he needed a slave. He needed someone to look after Rosa if he was away overnight. He needed help around the house. He was saving someone from a cruel life in the fields.
But the real reason was status. All the major houses boasted slaves. A slave meant you had power. They were as much an accessory as a worker. If you didn't have one, you were no-one.

"Lucien" Rosa whispered, staying close to her adoptive father "I don't like this. Why are we here?"
Lucien wrapped an arm around the ginger haired girl "I don't like this either. But I'm afraid it must be done. Just stay close and don't draw any attention."
It was hard. The two looked hopelessly out of place in this squalid fleshmarket. Whilst Rosa's corset-skirt combo might be passable here, Lucien's black and gold greatcoat and trouers looked about as far removed from local attire as achievable. In fact, several envious passerbys had already went through Lucien's pockets, only to come away empty handed. Not for the first time, the Vurkolak thanked his tailor for including inside pockets in his clothes.

The slave market was suprisingly busy, considering it was only really a thing of the aristocracy. The din was unbearable. Half the people who showed up probably couldn't even afford a slave. They were bad enough for buying them, but those who turned up just to watch were sick beyond all measures.
"We came here, to the worst part of town, to watch some toffs with too much money barter for someone's life" Rosa raised an eyebrow
"No, my dear. We came here to take part in the bartering" Lucien grinned ghoulishly "Now, if you could have any of these fine people, who would you have?"
Rosa ran an eye over the assortment of bulky, filthy men. None of them looked particularly appealing, if she was honest. She'd rather be able to sit down and talk to them, to choose her favourites. But without that luxury, she had to settle for gut instinct.
"That one. The one with the dragon tattoo and headscarf."
"Then you shall have that one"
Throughout the auction, the pair didn't say a word. Only when Rosa's slave came up did Lucien play his trump.
He waited, letting the little fish bid each other out. He knew he was under no real threat. The man was beaten and bruised, never a good sign in any slave. No-one bet much for him.
"7 Gold Pieces" Lucien's hand shot up, looking directly at the slave.