The air in Remnant’s capital was thick with the stench of sweat, iron, and desperation. The slave market, a sprawling maze of rickety stalls and shouting vendors, pulsed with a chaotic energy under a sky bruised with smoke and ash. Cages lined the muddy paths, their occupants staring out with eyes that ranged from broken to burning with defiance. Jaune Arc, a young man with a mop of blond hair and a nervous gait, wove through the crowd, his worn leather coat flapping behind him. He was out of place here, a country boy in a den of wolves, but his estate needed hands—companions, he told himself, not slaves—and he’d heard the market was the place to find them.
“Fresh meat! Strong backs! Pretty faces!” a vendor bellowed, slamming a meaty fist against a cage. Jaune flinched, nearly tripping over a puddle of something he didn’t want to identify. He muttered an apology to no one in particular and adjusted the coin pouch at his belt. He had enough for two, maybe three, if he haggled well. Problem was, Jaune wasn’t much for haggling—or confidence, for that matter.
He stopped short at a pair of cages shoved close together, their bars rusted but sturdy. Inside one sat a woman with short, dark hair and a pair of aviator shades perched on her nose, her posture screaming arrogance despite the chains on her wrists. She wore a tattered but stylish jacket, as if she’d walked straight out of a fashion magazine and into this hellhole. Next to her, in the adjacent cage, was a slighter figure—a bunny Faunus with long, floppy ears and wide, wary eyes. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, but there was a quiet intensity to her gaze as she watched Jaune approach.
“Well, well, well,” the first woman drawled, her voice cutting through the market’s din like a blade. She leaned forward, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood. “Look what the cat dragged in. A farm boy playing at being a big, bad master. What’s your deal, blondie? Lost your way to the bakery?”
Jaune blinked, his cheeks flushing. “I, uh, I’m not— I mean, I’m just looking for—”
“Spit it out, sweetheart,” she interrupted, twirling a lock of hair around her finger with a casualness that belied her situation. “I’m Coco Adel, by the way. And this shy little thing next to me is Velvet Scarlatina. Say hi, Velv. Don’t be rude to our potential sugar daddy.”
Velvet’s ears twitched, and she shot Coco a sidelong glare before mumbling, “Hello.” Her voice was soft, but there was a flicker of something harder beneath it, like a pebble hidden under silk.
Jaune scratched the back of his neck, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Hi. I’m Jaune. Jaune Arc. I’m, uh, looking for companions for my estate. Workers, I mean. Not… not anything weird.”
Coco barked out a laugh, loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “Oh, honey, you’re adorable. ‘Not anything weird,’ he says, standing in the middle of a slave market. Tell me, Jaune Arc, do you blush this hard when you’re mucking out stables, or is it just for us?”
“I’m not— I don’t—” Jaune stammered, his face now a full tomato. “I just want to help, okay? I don’t like this place any more than you do.”
Coco’s smirk softened, just for a split second, before snapping back into place. “Help, huh? That’s a new one. Most of the creeps here are just looking for a warm body to boss around—or worse. So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s your offer, farm boy? Because I’ll tell you right now, I’m not cheap, and neither is Velvet. We’re a package deal of trouble and talent.”
Velvet’s eyes darted to Coco, then back to Jaune, assessing him silently. She didn’t speak, but her gaze was heavy, like she was peeling back his layers one by one.
Jaune swallowed hard, fumbling with his coin pouch. “I’ve got enough for two. I can pay the asking price, but I’m not… I’m not gonna treat you like property. I just need help at home. Cooking, cleaning, maybe some gardening. That’s it.”
Coco tilted her head, her shades glinting in the dim light as she studied him. “Gardening. How quaint. Tell you what, Jaune. You want us? You’ve gotta prove you’ve got spine enough to handle us. I’m not about to be dragged off to some backwater dump by a boy who can’t even look me in the eye. So, stand up straight, stop fidgeting, and make me believe you’re worth my time.”
Jaune hesitated, then squared his shoulders as best he could. “I’m not a boy. I’m… I’m trying to do the right thing here. I don’t want to own anyone. I want partners. Equals. If you come with me, you’ll have a roof, food, and freedom to do what you want, as long as the work gets done. That’s my deal.”
Coco raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed despite herself. “Equals, huh? That’s a bold word to throw around in a place like this. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Maybe a little naive, but guts. What do you think, Velv? Should we give the farm boy a shot?”
Velvet’s ears twitched again, and she finally spoke, her voice low but firm. “If he means what he says… I’d rather take a chance on him than stay here.” Her eyes locked onto Jaune’s, and there was a challenge there, subtle but unmistakable. “But don’t think I’ll just roll over and play nice. I’ve got my own terms.”
Jaune nodded quickly, eager to seal the deal before he could mess it up further. “Right. Terms. We’ll figure that out. I’ll talk to the vendor and get you both out of here.”
As he turned to haggle with the grizzled man overseeing the cages, Coco leaned closer to the bars, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. “Hey, farm boy. Don’t think this means you’re in charge. I’ve got plans, and you’re just the first step. Stick with me, and I might just make you look good. Mess with me, and I’ll have you wrapped around my finger before you can say ‘harvest season.’ Got it?”
Jaune glanced back at her, a nervous grin tugging at his lips. “Got it. I think.”
Velvet watched the exchange, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. She said nothing, but her mind was already turning, calculating. Between Coco’s sharp edges and her own quiet strength, this Jaune Arc didn’t stand a chance of keeping the upper hand for long.
Minutes later, the transaction was done, the vendor grumbling as he pocketed Jaune’s coins and unlocked the cages. Coco stepped out first, stretching with a dramatic flair, as if she’d just checked out of a luxury hotel. Velvet followed more cautiously, her ears flicking at every sound in the crowded market.
“Lead the way, master,” Coco said, her tone dripping with mockery as she slung an arm around Jaune’s shoulder. “Let’s see what kind of life you’ve got waiting for us. And don’t worry—I’ll whip you into shape in no time.”
Jaune groaned under his breath, already feeling the weight of her presence. “I’m starting to think I’ve made a huge mistake.”
Velvet’s soft chuckle was almost lost in the market’s noise, but her words carried a quiet edge. “You have no idea.”
As the trio wove through the bustling crowd, leaving the Market of Mischief behind, Coco’s mind raced with schemes. She’d play the game for now, let Jaune think he was calling the shots. But she’d turn the tables soon enough. And Velvet, with her silent, watchful cunning, would be right there with her. Jaune Arc might have bought their freedom, but he’d just invited two storms into his quiet life—and they were ready to blow everything apart.
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