Weaving in an out among the crowds of people, a family of nobles drift down a dusty market
road. The mother is holding her baby daughter in her arms, while a curious boy clings to his father's
large hand. All four are wearing brightly colored, expensive robes, marking them apart from the
other commoners around them.

The boy spots a slave caravan resting on the side of the road and slows down. He notices several
Keidran, all wearing rags and chains, lying on the hay-covered floor of a horse-driven cart. He steps
onto the dew-moistened grass and begins to approach the bars.

"Euchre?" His father calls to him. "Where are you going?" But the child pays no heed and
continues walking. The father takes a few long strides over to his son before clasping a hand around
the boy's arm. "Come back to the road. You're getting you robes soaked."

"But father, I want to see the Keidran!"

"We don't need a Keidran, we do without them. You know how I feel about slavery."

Gazing up at his father, Euchre tries to look as innocent as possible. "I just want to look at
them"

"Euchre, they aren't even ready. It looks like they they're just allowing their horses to rest."

"Nonsense!" Came a booming voice from the side of the wagon. A large man with dark,
piercing eyes flows out to greet them with an almost inhuman stride. In one motion, he claps a multi-
ringed hand over his father's shoulder, guides him away to discuss the advantages of owning a
Keidran, while at the same time whispering to Euchre, "pick out the one you like."

Euchre, suddenly free of his father's shadow, quickly dashes up to the cages. A few yards before
he reaches them, he slows down. Looking into the cage, he realizes that most of the Keidran are half
starved and the rest of them look downtrodden at best. All are filthy. This disappoints the child, who
was hoping to find the fancy, exotic Keidran that the rich Templars were known to have in their
possession. These paled in comparison. 
             
Turning away with eyes downcast, Euchre was about to leave when his gaze fell across a
Keidran sitting in the corner. Taking a few tentative steps forward, he realizes that it is a young
female, possibly close to his own age or younger. It's fur was in a tiger pattern, with black strips
running over the orange. Her mouth, chest, and feet are the only white spots on her body. Several
colorful feathers protrude from her mouth, more then likely her last meal. She looks up for a
moment, her eyes burning into his own, before going back to her feathers.

Something about her caught his attention. She was just as dirty as the other Keidran, having
been kept in such a filthy environment. Maybe it was the feathers, which made her seem like an
exotic Templar servant. Perhaps it was the fact that she seemed to have a cocky attitude, setting her
apart from the other Keidran. Whatever the reason, Euchre knew he had to have her.

"Euchre, time to go." His father was back.

"Wait, I want this one!" Euchre voiced his plea.

"Now what did I tell you?  We don't need a slave." His father glanced at the cage. "And besides,
this one is far too young to do us any good."

"But I want her! She can help me with stuff."

"Euchre-" His father's resolve was beginning to diminish. He once again looked at the Keidran,
which had begun to crawl towards them with curiosity. She would be rather useful once she's
older. And I'm sure by then Euchre will grow tired of her and move on to other things. "Fine,
Euchre. You can have your Keidran. What will you name her?"

"Um... I think I'll call her Flora."