The town center was bustling with traffic. People going to market, children running around and playing, horse hooves falling on cobblestone, and a slave trader running an auction off to the side. The auction had gathered a crowd, some just curious, and some coming to buy. The slaves were stood behind the auctioneer, shackled and chained in their rags, waiting to be shipped off to a new master. It was an unfortunate life that they lived, but almost no one gave them any pity. 

Rhone was among the men in chains, his bare feet hurting as he stood on the rocky ground. The chains around his wrists and ankles were heavy and rusted, chaffing his skin. The sun beat down on his bare shoulders, tan and dirty from his days outside. When was the last time he'd had a bath? He couldn't even remember. His feet were filthy, his hair sweaty under his head wrap. Slaves weren't particularly known for their hygiene, not that he could help it. 

The man watched as an interested buyer came up to the slave beside him, looking him up and down and checking his teeth as if the man were a horse. Rhone gave the buyer a pointed sneer. The buyer looked over to him with a raised eyebrow, and then Rhone felt the slave trader behind him grab the back of his neck and force his head back down to look at the dirt. He wasn't allowed to make eye contact with people of higher status, much less scowl at them. 

The buyer decided to purchase the slave and went on his way. Rhone was up next. The auctioneer began spouting his estimated weight, skills, age, and health. He was a good field worker, was handy around the house, was in good health and fairly young. His face and body showed clear signs of his last beating, bruises on his dark skin and one eye blackened. A beaten slave was a clear deterrent, usually because owners didn't beat their workers without reason. 

 When the auctioneer asked for bids, a couple hands went up. Rhone didn't pay attention to the interested buyer. He was sure that, no matter who bought him, he was dislike them regardless.