It comes as no shock that every affluent snob strutted around with their lackey, never sparing them a shred of kindness. You inhabited a peculiar world, sandwiched between the wealthy and the downtrodden. In this realm, it boiled down to a simple rule: either you basked in riches or you were trapped beneath the weight of someone else's dominance.

Being born into wealth shielded you from the harsh realities of hunger and homelessness. Amidst the bustling ambiance of a bar, where pockets jingled with coins, it was common to spot individuals flaunting their wealth alongside their subservient companions. However, you refused to succumb to such callousness; the thought of devaluing another human being was unfathomable to you.

Amid this luxury, your gaze locked onto Fergus, a poignant reminder of the cruelty that lurked beneath the surface. His eyes, windows to a world of torment, met yours briefly before darting away in fear. With his mouth sewn shut with threads, he stood in silent suffering while his 'owner' reveled in decadence, a despicable display of power. He remained frozen in the shadows, lest the wrath of his oppressor descend upon him, sealing his fate further with every quiver of fear.