VoC: B1 — 11. Masks and Masters
Added 2025-06-25 23:17:08 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Lady Ashcroft (Our Lovely Slave Trader)
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Lady Ashcroft moved through the establishment with the fluid grace of someone who belonged. Past the animal enclosures, she entered the section that housed the indentured servants, and the change in atmosphere was immediate.
Where the animal area had been efficiently organized but somewhat sterile, this space felt more like a comfortable boarding house. The accommodations were genuinely spacious, with proper furniture, personal belongings, and even small luxuries that spoke to actual care rather than mere profit.
“Good morning, Lady Ashcroft,” called a middle-aged woman with intricate tattoos covering her arms—cat-folk, by the distinctive ears and graceful movements. “How did the negotiations go with the Drakmoor merchant house?”
“Quite well, Lyesa. They’ve agreed to your terms for the protective enchantments.” Ashcroft paused beside the woman’s quarters, genuinely interested. “How is your daughter adjusting to the academy with my recommendation?”
The cat-woman’s face lit up. “Wonderfully, My Lady! She’s already showing aptitude in math, and they think she may be a good fit for a banker. The instructors say she has natural talent.”
“Excellent. Make sure she knows the tuition for her advanced courses is covered—consider it an investment in her future.” Her smile was warm, genuinely pleased. After all, it truly was an investment. “Skilled Wizards and their enchanters are always valuable. She’ll make a killing in commissions, just make sure she doesn’t get snagged by the Adventuring Guild. You know their mortality rates.”
“Oh, most definitely not dungeoning, My Lady!”
She continued through the area, stopping briefly to check on a young man recovering from an injury, ensuring an elderly dwarf had received his requested materials for his craft work, and listening to a halfling woman’s concerns about her contract terms with patient attention.
These weren’t the interactions of a slaver with property. They felt more like a mentor checking on proteges, or perhaps a commander ensuring her people were well cared for. The respect in their voices when they addressed her wasn’t born of fear, but genuine appreciation—appreciation they would return throughout their lives.
The snake around her waist shifted slightly, its head emerging near her shoulder to taste the air with a forked tongue. She absently stroked its scales with one finger—a gesture so automatic it spoke of years of companionship.
“Patience, Vasily,” she murmured to the serpent. “Business first, then we can properly discuss our interesting new acquisitions. I know you’re hungry to taste more souls.”
Moving deeper into the establishment, she approached an ornate door marked with subtle ward signs. As her hand touched the handle, there was a soft chime, and she felt the familiar tingle of privacy enchantments activating. The moment she stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind her, the sounds from the rest of the building vanished completely.
The office was elegantly appointed but clearly functional—rich mahogany furniture, expensive rugs, and walls lined with filing cabinets that spoke to serious record-keeping. Marcus sat behind a large desk, carefully filling out forms with the precise handwriting of someone who took documentation seriously.
Ashcroft moved around the room slowly, her fingers trailing along the furniture with familiar ease. This was clearly her space as much as his, somewhere she felt completely comfortable. Her movements carried the same liquid grace as her serpent companion—deliberate, controlled, never wasted.
“Your performance was absolutely spectacular,” she whispered, settling back against the desk to face Marcus while he worked. Vasily uncoiled from her waist, slithering into her dress, down her figure to explore the familiar surroundings. “The way you played the concerned shopkeeper, the perfectly timed interruption when he was about to be ejected before I intervened… Masterful, as always. Your information proved 100% accurate.”
Ashcroft settled back against the desk with a light sigh. “Now, how was my performance, My Mistress?”
The question hung in the air for a moment, and then Marcus began to change. The transformation was slow and deliberate; not the rapid shifting of an emergency, but the careful unveiling of a true self.
Marcus’ features flowed like water, bones restructuring, hair darkening, and lengthening. His build became more slender, more graceful, and within moments, the well-dressed shopkeeper had been replaced by an elegant woman with sharp, intelligent features and eyes that held depths of experience—the city’s Grand Library bookkeeper’s sharp figure and face.
Madame Zorya stretched like a cat, working the kinks out of her back after maintaining an unfamiliar form. “Much better. Male bodies are so awkward—all those sharp angles, rigid postures, and other…uncomfortable bits.”
She fixed Ashcroft with a look of genuine pride. “And you, my dear, were absolutely sublime. The perfect balance of sophistication and mystery. I especially enjoyed your educational lecture about the indentured service system—you managed to sound both knowledgeable and subtly threatening.”
Ashcroft’s expression shifted subtly at the memory, her eyes cooling to something more calculating. “I have you to thank for all that I am, Mistress.”
“Mmm. Eight years feels like several lifetimes,” the woman whispered, head tilting with her reflective tone. “That frightened child picking scraps from fishing nets bears little resemblance to who you’ve become under my guidance. Your hard work shows.”
Zorya stretched out her long legs, her shins showing due to the unique Barbarian woman she had taken the form of, far taller than Marcus. She moved to a cabinet and retrieved two glasses and a bottle of something amber.
“Tell me, what’s your assessment of our young prince, and don’t leave out any details?”
Accepting the glass, Ashcroft chuckled softly, staring into the pristine crystal. Her thoughts wove through every detail, linking everything she knew with all the questions she was burning to ask her mentor. This was as much of a test as it was information gathering.
“Where should I begin?”
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