The atmosphere in the auction hall buzzed with tension as the bidding for the mysterious crystal continued to escalate. Silas sat forward in his seat, heart pounding, trying to keep a calm expression while his thoughts raced. The price had already soared to twelve gold and fifty silver coins, far beyond what most would spend on a trinket like this. But Silas knew better. He could feel the pull, something deep in the core of the crystal calling to him.

"Fourteen gold coins," the auctioneer called out, his voice sharp, cutting through the chatter in the room.

Silas clenched his fist. It was now or never. He raised his hand. "Fifteen gold coins," he said firmly, his voice steady, though inside he was anything but.

Rowan and Layla, seated on either side of him, exchanged glances. Layla's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing in concern. "Silas," Rowan murmured, leaning in slightly. "Are you sure about this?"

Silas gave a short nod, unable to meet Rowan's gaze. How could he explain the pull? It was like something inside the crystal spoke to him—calling him, promising something more. He didn't just want the crystal—he needed it.

The bidding war continued, inching higher. "Sixteen gold," called another voice from the back of the room. A nobleman, his face impassive but clearly invested in the crystal.

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.

The amount kept climbing, and Silas's chest tightened. The number in his head was twenty. That was his limit. The entirety of the amount his father gave him.

"Twenty gold coins," he said, lifting his hand again. A few people gasped in surprise. Youths rarely dealt in such high amounts, but Silas wasn't thinking about that. His eyes were glued to the crystal on the stage, glittering like a shard of the night sky.

Rowan seemed to notice something in Silas's expression—something desperate. He shifted, pulling out a small leather pouch. "Silas, I have some gold left," he said quietly. "Almost four. Take it."

Silas looked at him, eyes widening. "Rowan—"

"Don't be stupid," Rowan cut him off with a rare firmness. "If you need this, we'll help."

Layla, who had been watching silently, sighed. "He's right." She reached into her coat and pulled out a heavy coin purse. "I brought ten gold coins for the auction. Take it, Silas. There's no point pretending you don't need help."

Silas stared at the coins offered, his heart swelling at their generosity. He knew Layla's background—being a noble, she was always well-prepared—but Rowan's offer struck him more deeply. Still, he shook his head, forcing a smile. "Thank you, both of you. But this is something I have to do on my own."

Before either of them could argue, Silas shifted in his seat and looked back, his eyes scanning the rows behind them. As if on cue, his gaze met Sullivan's—the imposing figure of his father sitting there, arms crossed. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Silas wasn't sure what his father would do. But then, Sullivan nodded a silent acknowledgement.

Without a word, Sullivan raised his hand, signalling a new bid. "Twenty-five gold coins," he declared, his voice ringing out across the hall.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The bidding had taken a turn, and now people were watching with renewed interest. The nobleman in the back, previously confident, hesitated before raising his hand again. "Twenty-eight gold."

Sullivan didn't flinch. "Thirty gold coins."

Silas's breath caught in his throat. The bidding war wasn't over yet, but they were nearing the limit. He watched the nobleman, whose brow furrowed in frustration. There was a pause, the tension thick in the air.

Finally, the nobleman raised his hand again. "Thirty gold and fifty silver."

The auctioneer looked around, eyes bouncing between Sullivan and the noble. A hush fell over the room as everyone waited.

Silas glanced back at his father, his stomach in knots. But Sullivan didn't hesitate.

"Thirty-five," he said briefly.

"Thirty five," the auctioneer called out, his gavel raised. “Going once… going twice…” He paused, scanning the crowd one last time. "Sold!"

The room erupted in quiet murmurs, but Silas barely heard them. His heart was hammering, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He turned to Rowan and Layla, his voice hoarse. "Thank you… for offering."

Rowan gave a small grin, clapping Silas on the shoulder. "Next time, don't be so proud."

Layla smirked, but there was relief in her eyes. "If this crystal turns out to be some fancy paperweight, I'll never let you live this down."

Silas chuckled, though his mind was elsewhere, still fixed on the crystal. He glanced back toward his father again, but Sullivan had already slipped out of the hall, the deal done.

Whatever the crystal was, it was his now.

Kie suddenly stood up, stretching her arms overhead before announcing, “Well, I’ll be back in a bit. Nature is calling.”

Bai Lanhua, seated beside Regina, playfully wrinkled her nose in mock disapproval. “Mother, really? Women shouldn’t speak so… crudely.”

Kie shot her daughter an amused look, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Oh, please…” she retorted, waving a hand. “Fix your kimono before you start lecturing me. It’s about to slip right off your shoulder and hit the floor.”

Bai Lanhua smirked, adjusting the wide collar of her elegant kimono with deliberate grace. “That’s intentional, Mother,” she said sweetly. “It works better when asking for favours from men… or when negotiating.” Then, as if remembering something, she added with a sly smile, “And sometimes, it works on women too.”

Kie raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure it does.”

The two shared a knowing look, and soon, they were both laughing, light and carefree. Regina, sitting nearby, smiled warmly at the exchange, her eyes flicking between the mother and daughter with quiet amusement.

Meanwhile, Rowan leaned toward Silas, muttering under his breath, “These two are demonesses, I swear…”

Silas stifled a chuckle, and Layla covered her mouth to hide her grin, though her shoulders shook with silent laughter. The atmosphere had shifted from the tension of the auction to something lighter, more familiar.

As the laughter died down, Kie stretched again, glancing over her shoulder. “Alright, I really do need to step out for a moment. Don’t miss me too much.” With that, she strode out of the auction hall, her casual confidence drawing more than a few glances as she passed.

Once outside, Kie moved through the crowded corridors with purpose, her expression becoming more serious. She knew exactly where she was headed. It didn’t take long before she reached a more secluded area, away from the noise and commotion. And Sullivan was waiting there as if he had anticipated her arrival.

He stood tall, arms crossed over his chest, the flickering torchlight casting sharp shadows across his face. There was a brief silence as Kie approached, the sound of her footsteps the only noise in the narrow hallway.

“Sullivan,” Kie greeted, her tone familiar but edged with the weight of what had just transpired in the auction hall.

Sullivan inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her. “Kie. I see you’ve been keeping an eye on things.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She smirked. “Oh, always. You know me.”

A pause lingered between them, a silent understanding. The auction had been more than just a game of gold and silver. Kie’s gaze flickered toward the direction of the hall. “You bid quite the sum for that crystal,” she said, leaning against the stone wall. “More than I expected you would.”

Sullivan’s expression didn’t change. “It was necessary.”

Kie’s smirk widened, but there was a glint of something more thoughtful in her eyes. “So you believe Silas was right about it?”

Sullivan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced down the corridor as if weighing something in his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but steady. “He has a good sense for these things. And if he’s drawn to it… well, I won’t ignore that instinct. The boy’s stronger than he knows.”

Kie nodded slowly, her playful demeanour fading slightly as she considered his words.

Sullivan's eyes stayed sharp as he observed the surroundings, waiting for her to continue. "So, how are things on your end?" he asked, his voice steady, betraying no impatience.

Kie gave a small shrug, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Leifstien won't be a problem. He's still thinking he's suffering from some mysterious ailment, but he has no clue that I'm the reason he's bedridden half the time." She chuckled, the sound low and filled with satisfaction. "I've been managing his treatment—giving him just enough relief to keep him dependent on me but never enough to fully recover. It's a delicate balance, but I've got him wrapped around my finger. He's weak enough not to be a hurdle to our plans."

Sullivan raised an eyebrow, impressed. "And no one suspects?"

“No one. His pride won’t let him show any real weakness to others, and since I’m his trusted ‘healer,’ he’s confided only in me.” Kie’s grin widened. “As far as anyone’s concerned, he’s just under the weather. But the real damage is in his mind—he’s starting to doubt himself. He’s already removed himself from most of the power games, thinking he’s unfit to lead. He’s completely hooked on the medication, he’ll start having withdrawal symptoms if he doesn’t take it often, so he’ll have no choice but to take the medicine even when I’m gone.”

Sullivan nodded, his expression approving. "Good. Then, we don't have to worry about him meddling when things move forward. With the head of the snake cut off, things will be much easier to resolve."

"Exactly," Kie replied, crossing her arms. "He's just another pawn now, and if we need him, we can use him. If not, he'll fade away on his own."

There was a pause as Sullivan considered the next steps. "With Leifstien out of the way, the next phase is clear. We'll move forward soon. Make sure everything is set on your end."

Kie's expression turned serious, the playful glint in her eyes fading. "It's all lined up. Just say the word, and we'll move ahead with the plan."

"Good," Sullivan said, his voice a quiet rumble. "We don't get a second chance at this. I’ll keep a close eye on anyone who might start asking questions."

"I’m sure things will go as planned," Kie replied with a graceful smile. "I'll return to the auction now. Don't want them thinking I've been gone too long."

Sullivan nodded once more before Kie turned on her heel and made her way back toward the auction hall, her pace casual as if nothing had transpired. As she slipped back into the room, the lively atmosphere of bidding and conversation washed over her.

"Did I miss anything major?" Kie asked as she rejoined the group, a wry smile on her lips.

Rowan glanced at her and shrugged. "Nothing too exciting," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Silas chuckled softly. "You didn't miss much," he added. "We're still waiting for the main items."

Kie flashed a knowing smile and settled back into her seat, her mind still partially on the conversation she'd just had with Sullivan. Everything was falling into place.

The auctioneer cleared his throat, bringing attention to the next item. “Our next offering is a finely crafted inner armour, forged from Vale steel, known for its resilience and malleability. This material is highly favoured for inner armour due to its ability to mould to the wearer’s body while providing superior protection. Crafted in a mesh-like design of interlocking chains, this piece is the work of none other than Lawrence Craft, a renowned weaponsmith hailing from Amberheart’s most esteemed blacksmithing lineage.”

“The starting bid for this masterfully crafted inner armour is twenty gold coins,” the auctioneer announced. “Each increment will be fifty silver.”

Silas leaned forward slightly, eyeing the armour. Before he could comment, Layla’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Silas, we should get that for Rowan,” she said, almost matter-of-factly.

Silas smiled and agreed, “Yeah, his last one was torn to shreds by that damned animated corpse.”

Rowan immediately raised his hands in protest. “Wait—hold on you two, no need for that. I don’t need—”

Layla wasn’t having it. With a swift motion, she hooked her arm around Rowan’s neck and pulled him down, her lips curling into a playful but determined smile. “Shush... Weren’t you just telling Silas not to act proud? And now you’re doing the same thing.”

Rowan spluttered, trying to wriggle free but failing. “That’s different! It’s—”

“It’s exactly the same,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll do as I say, and you can pay us back later when you have the money.” She finally released him, her glare boring into him, “Understood?”

Rowan sighed in defeat, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Fine, fine. But I’ll definitely pay you back.”

Silas, watching the whole scene unfold, couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like you’re out of options, Rowan. Best just to give in.”

With that, Layla raised her hand and made the opening bid. The auction proceeded quickly after that, with the armour selling for twenty-seven gold coins, a modest price, as the public’s interest was primarily focused on the more extravagant items yet to come. Several more pieces were auctioned, but none drew as much attention until the final item of the evening.

The auctioneer stepped forward, his voice dropping to signify the importance of what was to come. “Ladies and gentlemen, the final item of tonight’s auction—a deed for a Selénolithos ore mine located in the South-East of Amberfell, near Larbreck. The mine is under the territory of Duke Monley Remington, and it is the only known mine of Selénolithos in Amberfell. The ore is typically imported from the Theron continent, where the Lykaios Clan controls its distribution, usually with substantial markups.

The crowd began murmuring, clearly intrigued.

“The starting bid is fifteen thousand gold coins, with increments of five hundred gold coins,” the auctioneer continued. “This price has been agreed upon by experts due to the rarity of the ore, the mine’s size—being a league wide and a little over two leagues deep—as well as its accessibility and the cost of extraction and refinement of the ore.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Even Silas and Rowan couldn’t hide their surprise.

“Fifteen thousand?” Rowan muttered in disbelief. “That’s… insane.”

Layla frowned. “It’s high, but considering the rarity of the ore, it’s not unreasonable.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Still, that’s no small sum.”

Silas nodded. “No kidding. Whoever wins this is in for a serious investment.”

Before they could discuss it further, a voice from one of the upper platforms called out a bid. The crowd stirred, recognizing the noble who had spoken. Silas picked up the whispered name from those around them: Duke Vilen Remington.

Rowan huffed under his breath. “Damn... I hate the rich.” After a brief pause, he added, “But I’d like to be just as rich...”

Silas chuckled at this remark. “Who wouldn’t?”

It became apparent that the two dukes—Monley and Vilen—had entirely different approaches. Duke Monley seemed eager for a quick profit, while Duke Vilen was playing the long game, looking for steady, long-term returns from the mine.

As Silas reflected on this, a calm yet commanding voice rang out nearby. “Fifteen thousand five hundred gold.”

Silas’s eyes widened in shock as he saw Regina sitting poised with an elegant smile, her hand still raised from making the bid. The room fell silent momentarily before a flurry of murmurs broke out.

As the auction continued, the battle quickly boiled down to Duke Vilen and Regina. Each bid climbed higher—seventeen thousand, seventeen thousand five hundred, eighteen thousand. The tension between them was palpable, the stakes growing with every increment. At nineteen thousand gold coins, Duke Vilen hesitated. He glared at Regina, but she remained composed, her eyes locked on the auctioneer, never faltering.

With a scowl, Duke Vilen waved his hand in frustration, withdrawing from the auction.

The auctioneer slammed the gavel. “Sold! For nineteen thousand gold coins to Lady Regina Caerul.”

A wave of murmurs and astonished gasps swept through the room, all eyes now on Regina. Silas, Rowan, and Layla were no exception, their jaws practically hitting the floor.

Silas, struggling to process the sum of money, stuttered, “S-she’s that rich?”

Rowan glanced at Silas, equally stunned. “Well... looks like it.”

Even Layla, usually composed, gulped in surprise. “That’s... quite a bit of coin.”

As they exchanged glances, the enormity of the purchase began to sink in. But before they could fully grasp the situation, Silas noticed something. Duke Vilen hadn’t left. He was staring daggers at Regina, his expression dark and full of malice.

Silas frowned, about to speak up when Kie’s low, deadly whisper brushed against his ears. “Do you want him dead?”

He turned, startled, to find Kie and Bai Lanhua standing nearby, their eyes filled with murderous intent, both glaring at the Duke. Silas swallowed hard, the cold edge of their threat hanging in the air.

Regina, noticing their attention, smiled serenely. “Let him make a move if he wants to die.”

Silas, Rowan, and Layla exchanged uneasy looks. Regina and her companions’ ruthlessness was clear, and the cheerful mood from earlier had taken a dark turn.

Silas forced a smile. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that…”

Despite the tension, it was clear now—Regina was no ordinary player in this game, and her power extended far beyond wealth.