Fear and terror washed over her, Aala swallowed, nearly throwing up a little into her mouth. Why? Why would Palto, as great as he was, spare even a moment's thought as to why she even existed? She was nothing. She was nothing but property. Even as she approached the golden dais she found herself cowering, her shoulders slouching, her tread lighter as if afraid of interrupting proceedings with the scape of sole against the polished wood and imported marble. Finally she alighted upon her knees and pressed her forehead against the floor in supplication to the obese god.

"Surely, oh great Palto would be far more interested in other things," Aala floundered, her downcast eyes, her very countenance screaming obeisance, "I am naught but what you wish me to be."