Ellanian ships were not scarce to be found in Weiss ports, though Snow was not surprised to hear that they didn't fare well purveying their goods in Weiss. Often the prices were higher due to the cost of crew hire and the voyage itself, leading to higher prices. The amount of goods to be obtained was also lower; Weiss wasn't a premier destination to sell goods, considering its distance from other prime destinations. Most locals would rather buy native grain, and only those with acquired taste for luxury and gold would seek out the foreign Ellanian grain. Ellanian ships stocked with luxurious goods were far more likely to find success than those toting grain.<br/><br/>"I've heard before that Dusanian slaves were bred from birth to serve, though I didn't believe you would be so... ignorant to freedom," Snow answered, in regards to Altair's question. It was peculiar that the slave was steeped in such ignorance, to the point that he would turn up his nose at the thought of liberty.<br/><br/>Snow had dealt with slaves before. Occasionally they were brought to the capital, as freedmen. There was the girl who washed laundry, who had come from Printemps. She was completely mute, with thick scars etched across her throat, possessing an aura of gauntness to her despite her face and flesh shining with youth. And there was the man that taught swordsmanship, whose flesh was a landscape of old wounds, valleys where flesh had been gouged and crags of mountain where flesh had been sliced. But Altair was the first of his kind; regardless of where they had come, the slaves had been been full of gratitude for their freedom, and paid for it with their services to the King. For Altair, the idea of freedom was greeted with rejection and denial.<br/><br/>When Altair had been loosened initially, he remained as he was frozen. Like a doe peering through the trees after hearing the faint snap of a twig. Only when Snow rested himself back into his chair did the man move, curling inwards as a cold child would and nestling himself underneath the blanket that protected him from the frigidity of the cabin. Altair tenderly rubbed his wrists, numb and imprinted with rope after hours of being bound.<br/><br/>Snow shook his head to Altair's promise of pacifism. "I know less about you than I do your homeland. You can find wolves and sheep in the same place, and they are realms apart. You may be fatigued now, but I am no soothsayer. It only takes a well placed blade to kill a man," Snow addressed.<br/><br/>The slave thanked him for his efforts. "I need no thanks," Snow told him. "I would rather have other things from you. Truth." Snow gestured towards the man's cheek. "Your cheek. You never told me how you came to acquire that wound. As well as your bruises."