A rusty cart creaks it's way through the forest, pulled by a worn out mule. It slowly creeps through twisted and knobby trees, the only sound interrupting the squeaking of the rust wheels is the quiet sobbing of it's passenger. She's in the pack of the cart, softly crying into her knees as she sits on the rough wooden floor of the cart. Iron bars line all four sides and support a black roof surrounding the purchased slave. An old man leading the mule smiles under his hood. His hands are wrinkled and spotted, but adorned with rings of emerald and garnet. He carries a walking stick in one, stabilizing the limp in his exhausted knees. Breath comes and goes in rasps and wheezes during the trek.
The old man looks back at the girl he's purchased, and thinks back to two days ago when he first saw her in Cunport's red light center. She was sitting by the window, wearing a white bustier and a simple ocean blue silk skirt. Her skin was flawless, and tanned slightly. She looked at the passersby with eyes shaped like almonds containing pools of dark brown. Lips pouting and plumped with rosy lipstick indicated she was for hire for oral only, and a virgin.
She had caught the old man's eye as he was in town stocking up on supplies for the quickly approaching winter. He had thought she would make a fine gift for his son, who had been doing well recently and deserved something his hard work. At least, that's what the man told the madame of the brothel. At first she was hesitant. Bree was a very talented girl and was earning the shop a fair bit of coin, but once the man gave the madame two small vials containing a thick purple fluid with the promise of four more, she decided Bree was much more expendable.
"Something you learn early as a warlock, " the old man thought as he continued to pace along the cart. "Money isn't everything to some people." The sky was getting darker as the pathway through the woods began to narrow and the trees started to grow thicker. They were almost home now. Bree's sobbing began to grow louder. The old man stopped the cart and walked back to the girl.
"My dear, why are you crying? Can't you see I'm taking you to my home? That you will be well fed and cared for?"
Bree looked up from her slouch. Her beautiful eyes were puffy from crying, and she wore a simple white cotton dress the brothel had given her, keeping the rest of her fine clothes. "You. You took me from my home. My friends. Please, let me go back, mister, mister?"
"Grimbriar at your service." The old man took a bow, letting sliver hair fall from his hood. "And I assure you, sweet Bree that you will make many friends at my home. My house staff will treat you like royalty. Surely it can't be worse than a brothel girl?"
Bree posted a mask of defiance on her face. "I may have been a whore, Grimbriar, but I had my freedom! Freedom to talk all night with the other girls, to take my customers on walks by the docks at night, to flirt with the sailors who came in to town." She kicked the bars of the cage. "Maybe I couldn't leave the city, but I'll take it's stone bricks to your gilded cage." She sat back down on the cart, folding her arms across her chest. She started to shiver as more tears fell down her cheek.
"Give me your hand, child." Grimbriar said reaching between the bars. Reluctantly, Bree stuck a hand out and Grimbriar grabbed it. Muttering some words under his breath, he send a jolt of warmth into Bree's blood. She gave a startled look, but stopped shivering. "We will be home soon."
After another hour of traveling the light had completely drained from the forest. Grimbriar and Bree stopped at the front door of a decaying circular stone tower. The roof was badly damaged with entire rows of shingles stripped bare. Ivy and moss climbed the black bricks all the way to the top. Grimbriar unlocked the gate. "We're here my love." he said, reaching his hand out.
Bree looked apprehensive, like she was deciding whether or not to make a run for it. It didn't look like Grimbriar could even catch her at his age. "Where would yo go dear?" He asked, as if hearing the conflict in her head. A wolf's howl pierced the night. Reluctantly, Bree got up and took Grimbriar's hand. The couple made there way to the front door.
"What about the mule?" Bree asked. "Surely, it needs to be stabled?"
Grimbriar looked around. "He'll figure it out," He said, while opening the plain front door to the tower. "He's smarter than he looks."
Bree looked back at the old thing. "Certainly doesn't look like it."
"I hope he didn't hear you say that. That mule has one short temper." He led Bree into the tower, which opened into a very comfy looking parlor. Red carpets lined the floor and dark maroon and red tapestries hung from the stone walls. Hundreds of candles hung from the ceiling chandeliers and walls, giving the parlor a welcoming glow of warmth and comfort. A suit of armor stood at the base of a wide carpeted staircase, which led higher up the tower.
Grimbriar removed his hood, revealing a bald head speckled with liver spots and circled with long white hair hung down below his shoulders. He shook his head and shuddered. Slowly, the long strands of white hair thickened and darkened. New follicles of hair sprouted from his bald crown as spots and warts vanished. Grimbriar's wrinkled skin began to tighten into a luminescent ivory. His fingers straightened and the stoop in his back straightened.
"Much better," Grimbriar said in a deep baritone. He looked easily fifty years younger now, with midnight black hair and dark, foreboding eyes. Large biceps were visible through the sleeveless black undershirt her wore. "These disguises are a necessary, but inconvenient encumbrance when you're in my profession."
Bree stood with her mouth open and eyes wide open. "You're... you're..."
"A warlock my dear," Grimbriar finished for her. Bree's expression didn't change, but Grimbriar sensed a feeling of horror in the girls young mind. "I assume they told you all sorts of vile things about us in your village?"
