Locked within a cage on the back of a merchant's wagon like a piece of furniture or other miscellaneous property, I watch the countryside roll by. Gradually the rolling fields start to give way to ploughed fields and arable land for farm animals, a sign that the city is drawing ever nearer.
The city market of Zerithane is famous in the kingdom of Zeritho for being a place where a person can buy any and all manner of items, including me. Because that's what I am, a piece of property, a beastkin slave.
More specifically, I'm a ${beastfolk species (Wolfkin/Bunnykin/Catkin)} slave. I'm ${character age} years old and my last master called me ${slave name}. I don't remember much about my family, what my parents looked like or what name they gave me when I was born.
My ${ears} ears prick up at the distant sound of a large wooden gate shutting, too far away for a human to hear, but definitely close enough for a ${beastfolk species (Wolfkin/Bunnykin/Catkin)} like me to detect. The merchant will be in sight of the city within half an hour and I'll most likely be sold before the day ends.
***
"Excuse me, ${Master's title (Sir/Madam/Lord/Lady, etc)}, you look like a discerning customer." The merchant says to the ${man/woman} browsing the slaves he'd brought to the market to sell.
It has been two hours since the merchant arrived at the Zerithane city market and set up his stall. I was no longer locked up in my cage, but rather chained to a post just in front of it. And besides a loincloth to cover my modesty, the merchant had stripped me naked.
"I have a fine example of a ${character gender} ${beastfolk species (Wolfkin/Bunnykin/Catkin)} for sale here. Look at that ${chest type (flat/toned/muscular, etc) OR breast size (C cup/D cup, etc)} chest, a sure sign of a healthy Beastfolk slave. This ${beastfolk species (Wolfkin/Bunnykin/Catkin)} can be yours for 700 gold pieces." The merchant says.
"500 and you have a deal." The ${man/woman} replies, appraising my body.
"675 and you're getting a good deal." The merchant counters.
"525, as I see this slave has been branded once before." The ${man/woman} says, seeing my last master's mark just above my right hip.
"650 gold. The ${beastfolk species (Wolfkin/Bunnykin/Catkin)}'s former master died of old age and the family sold the slave on to me. The paperwork is all in order if you want to see it and put your mind at rest."
The ${man/woman} pauses a moment, then nods. I watch as they scan the paperwork of my ownership. They scan it very meticulously, making it clear to the merchant that they know what they're looking for and won't be taken in by a forgery.
"625?" They finally answer.
"${Master's title (Sir/Madam/Lord/Lady, etc)}, I can't let a slave of this quality go for that price. 650 gold pieces is the lowest I'll take." The merchant replies.
With a shrug, the ${man/woman} relents and pays the merchant the 650 gold. Just like that, my ownership transfers from the merchant who has been transporting me and a handful of other slaves in a cage on the back of his wagon for the past month to this ${man/woman} of some degree of nobility.
"Now then, slave," the ${man/woman} begins, "I am ${Master's name}. But you shall address me as ${how do you address your master?}. Understand?"
"Yes, ${how do you address your master?}." I reply.
"And what are you called?" ${Master's name} asks.
"Well ${how do you address your master?}, my previous owner called me ${slave name}." I reply. "It's the only name I've ever been known by."