There were only three taverns in the town of Lillyvale, and out of all of them, the Old Crow was by far the least reputable. It was a tired old place, the glasses permanently fogged from decades of use, and the creaky, splintering floor marked with a patchwork of stains. It was the kind of establishment where exhausted men would come to drink after a long day in the fields, the river, or perhaps the docks, sitting on chairs and stools whose seats were furrowed from use. An old rifle hung above the bar, its long barrel covered in spiderwebs. The spark rune embedded in the grip glowed only very weakly, age, neglect, and lack of use having nearly drained its power completely.
There was a long iron bar on the north wall where slaves could be collared while their masters drank. Of course, it had been years since anyone wealthy enough to own a slave had visited the Crow, and the flickering lamplight cast eerie shadows of the empty, rusted chains upon the walls.
It was quiet, a temporary escape from the drudgery and hard work of daily life for Lillyvale’s unfortunate, for whom nothing exciting ever happened. So when the door to the Old Crow flew open with such force that it banged against the wall, every head turned to see what was happening.
Standing in the doorway, shaking as she gasped for air, was a canine girl, framed by the light of the setting sun.
The steel collar around the girl's neck identified her as a slave, as did the bright red shawl around her shoulders. She had an uncommon look for a canine, with extremely large ears and a shorter muzzle than most. The fur on her face, arms and belly was a rusty brown, while the rest of her body was charcoal black. Her fine limbs and short stature, as well as her brushed and clipped fur, suggested she was a house slave, rather than a common labourer.
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As Azee felt every pair of eyes in the Old Crow turn to look at her, the fur on the nape of her neck bristled and her breath caught in her chest. She had been in such a frantic hurry when she reached the tavern door, she hadn’t even considered there might be people inside. Her long bushy tail curled between her legs and her large triangular ears pressing back against her head as she desperately fought the urge to flee. The only thing that kept her still was the knowledge that if she ran away, she would never see her sister again. That, and she would almost certainly be killed.
Though it took every ounce of willpower, Azee took a deep, shuddering breath, and stepped over the threshold into the gloomy tavern.
She kept her head bowed, staring at the floor as she made her way towards the bar, giving the occupied tables as wide a berth as she could. She could hear the other patrons grumbling and muttering under their breath, watching as she passed. Her sensitive nose stung from the scent of unwashed men, old beer, and long-dried blood.
“One of the Windhill’s I reckon,” one man muttered, glancing up and down Azee’s body as she passed. “Fine piece of ass too.”
“Oi, what you doing in ‘ere pelt,” another shouted from the back corner, his speech slurred by drink. “Git on outta here, fleabait bitch!” A pair of hunting cats at his feet also growled at Azee, lips curling back to reveal razor sharp teeth.
Azee tried her best to ignore the talk, struggling to keep her breathing steady. She winced as the pads of her feet stuck to some of the fresher stains on the floor as she arrived at the bar.
The Bartender, an old man with a halo of wiry grey hair around an otherwise bald head, looked up at Azee, his eyes stained yellow from years of pipe smoke.
“What’d you want?” he grumbled, his voice little more than a gravely mumble. “An’ where’s yer master?”
“I… uh…”
“Can’t you read the sign?” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at a sign hanging behind the bar.
“N-no sir, I-I can’t r-read,” Azee lied.
“Well it says: no pelts, unless accompanied by their owner. I don’t see no leash on you.”
“Please sir… I… I need to speak with Miss Eloise.”
“You got a problem with them big ‘ol ears? Miss Eloise is busy. Now git!
“Please I-” Azee froze, a flash of panic running up her spine as she felt a hand run up her skirt and touch her rump.
“Hello there lil one.” Despite speaking in a whisper, the man’s drunken, lustful drawl echoed loudly in Azee’s sensitive ears. “Yer one a’ Luke’s gals, ain’t ya.
“I-I’m s-sorry sir, but-” Azee breath caught and she shivered in terror, as she felt the unseen man’s fingers wrap around the collar around her neck, holding her in place, the pressure of the metal ring threatened to choke her.
“Yeah… I seen you before, the Windhill boy’s favoured pelt. Suppose I ken’ see why ‘e keeps you so close to ‘im,” the man murmured, his foul breath burning Azee’s nose as his hand shifted across her buttocks, fondling the base of her tail.
He leaned in close, smelling her hair. “Mmmmm, such a fine piece a’ ass. Wonder if he’d mind me takin’ you fer a spin.”
“Bill, leave the pelt alone,” the bartender grumbled, pausing to wipe a glass with a filthy old rag.
At the name, Azee recognized the voice. Bill Graves operated the ferry that crossed the Carrway river on the other side of town. He was a filthy old man with foul smelling breath and teeth that looked like kernels of corn stuck haphazardly into his gums. Azee had seen him often, leering at her while her master haggled with one merchant or another and the other slaves loaded the ferry with bales of cotton or bundles of sugarcane. His predatory gaze had always made her shift a little closer to her master. But Luke wasn’t there to protect her now.
Azee’s eyes squeezed shut. She wanted to fight, to resist, to use her claws and teeth to fend off her attacker. But if she did, there was no doubt her secret would be discovered and she would hang.
“S’all right, I won’t break it,” Bill snarled, tightening his grip on Azee’s collar, forcing her to gasp for breath, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. “I jus’ wanna see what mister Windhill’s got ere…”
Azee felt the hot sting of tears at the corners of her eyes, her knees shaking as the man’s hand started to drift lower.
At that moment, a powerful female voice rang out. “Bill! You get your hands off of her this instant!”
Azee’s eyes flew open. In front of her stood a woman with shoulder length black hair and piercing blue eyes. Despite her short stature, the woman radiated a powerful authority that made everyone shrink back. Her fierce image was aided by both the sharp northern twang in her voice, and the formal black dress that she wore, with a high lace collar that framed her narrow face.
Immediately, Bill released Azee’s collar and withdrew his hand. “‘Ey now, didn’ mean nothin’ by it.”
“‘Didn’t mean nothin’ by it’ my foot! What do you think your wife would say?” the woman demanded, storming forwards, arms crossed as she glowered at the suddenly contrite man. “You’re a bloody disgrace, fooling around with a slave like that!”
“Oh come on, she’s jus’ a pelt! I were only-”
“Get out!” the woman snapped, pointing at the door. “And don’t come back till you’ve learned how to act like a gentleman!”
“But-” Bill turned to the bartender. “Charlie, come on now!”
The bartender shrugged. “Ain’t gon’ get any help from me. An’ when Miss Eloise tells you to leave, you better git if’n you know what’s good fer ya.”
“You heard him.” Eloise snarled, pushing Azee aside and drawing up in front of Bill. “Get out.”
“Don’t you go talkin to me like that woman!” Bill raised his hand to strike Eloise.
In a movement so fast that had Azee blinked she would have missed it, a small pistol shot out of Eloise’s sleeve and into her hand. Bill hadn’t even finished raising his hand when suddenly he found the barrel of Eloise’s gun beneath his chin.
Eloise’s voice was soft, but carried an edge that stole the warmth from the room. “I wasn’t asking, I was telling.” Bill shifted and Eloise wrapped her finger around the trigger, jabbing the barrel into Bill’s chin. “You put your hands on your belt, I’ll kill you where you stand. Leave.”
Despite her fear, Azee couldn’t help but stare at Eloise’s gun. Unlike the rifle behind the bar which Charlie was hurriedly reaching for, the spark rune of Eloise’s weapon glowed like new. Though small, the pistol was polished to a mirror shine and covered in elegant gold filigree. The only weapon she had ever seen that came close to its elegance was her master’s favoured duelling pistol, which sat on a velvet pillow beneath a glass case on his desk.
Shooting both Eloise and Azee a murderous glare, Bill carefully backed away, keeping his hands raised. As he passed his table, he reached down and grabbed his mug and gulped down the last of his beer. Tossing his empty glass aside, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him with a vicious crash
With the excitement over, the other patrons turned back to their drinks and conversation.
“Filthy brute,” Eloise snarled, her gun sliding back into her sleeve.
“True, but yeh can’t go sendin’ away our customers,” the bartender grumbled, returning the rifle to its place and brushing the cobwebs off his hands. “Business is already slow.”
“And I’d be worried, if he ever paid his damn tab. And what, in the name of heaven, were you doing letting him fondle the customers?”
“Ain’t no customer.” With another grumble, the bartender pointed back at the sign. “Shouldn’t even be in here. Said she needed t’ talk to you.”
As Eloise turned towards her, Azee felt as if she could feel the woman’s eyes burrowing into her. She started to shiver again, fighting the urge to whine.
Noting Azee’s obvious fright, Eloise raised an eyebrow. “Well, what do you want?”
“I…” Azee gulped, “I… I need...”
As Azee spoke, Eloise’s gaze moved to the collar around her neck. The moment her vision touched upon the rune carved into the piece of catalyst stone, mounted at the front of the collar, her eyes widened.
“It’s fine,” she said quickly, nodding at the bartender, “she’s just here picking up an order.” She nodded for Eloise to follow her. “It’s in the back. Come.”
Bowing her head, Azee followed obediently along behind Eloise as she led her around the bar and down a narrow, dark hallway towards the back room.
Opening the door to the back stockroom, Eloise gestured for Azee to step inside.
A few rats squeaked and scurried for the shadows as Azee stepped onto the dirt floor. Even when compared to the front of the bar, the stockroom was dark, lit only by a single, soot-stained lantern hanging by the door. The shadows were so thick that even Azee’s keen canine eyes couldn’t see into them.
Azee’s heart still thudded against her ribs as Eloise stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
Grabbing hold of a pair of chairs, Eloise set one for Azee, and one for herself.
“Come,” she ordered, patting the seat of the chair. “Sit.”
Hesitantly, Azee sat, her tail curling around herself and her skirt bunched tightly in her paws. She nearly jumped out of her seat as Eloise reached out and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes.
“I knew it,” Eloise murmured, her fingers running down to the collar at Azee’s throat. “Your control rune has stopped working.”
“H-how can-”
“I can see it in your eyes, there’s more life there. Not to mention you are obviously afraid, which shouldn’t be happening...”
Eloise’s fingers traced the symbol carved into the chunk of Catalyst stone embedded in the metal collar.
“It’s a suppression rune all right, high quality too. Strange… it still has power.” Eloise looked up and met Azee’s gaze. “Could it be...you actually overpowered it?”
Immediately a look of excitement crossed Eloise’s face, “Incredible! How in heaven’s name did you manage that?! I didn’t think it was even possible!”
“I don’t know.” Azee’s lower lip quivered. She tried to hold back her tears, but soon they were streaming down her face, staining her fur.
Eloise raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know? You’ve managed to overpower a suppression rune and you don’t know how you did it?”
“M-my sister.”
“Your sister?”
Azee nodded, “After she was sold… it started to fail… It’s been losing power for a few months now. It finally… I broke free about… about two hours ago.”
“And your master didn’t notice?”
“N-no.”
“So why come to me?”
Azee opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Speak!” Eloise ordered.
“Th-the rumours, around town. People say that you have powers.” Azee looked down at her feet. “That you are the one to talk to… if someone has a problem.”
“I see,” Eloise grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Please,” Azee whimpered, “if you do have powers… I need help! I need help or…” Her shoulders shook as she started to cry, tears dripping down onto her skirt. “They’re going to hang me. Please…”
“Listen, I don’t have time for this,” Eloise snapped, reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a handkerchief which she offered to Azee. “I have things to take care of so-”
Eloise blinked in surprise, a blade flashing out of her sleeve and into her palm as Azee leapt towards her. She paused as the slave gripped her dress and sobbed into her lap.
“Please… I don't want to die…” Azee sobbed. “I-I don’t know what to do!”
After an awkward moment’s pause, Eloise carefully returned the blade to its hidden sheath.
“Alright then,” she whispered, placing a hand on Azee’s head stroking her hair as she whimpered and cried. “Take a moment… then we’ll see what we can do.”
