Chapter 25
The next morning, Ignis woke to the sound of laughter echoing from the next room. The realization that he wasn't the first one awake filled him with a sense of wrongness, a prickle of panic even. The last time this had happened, one of the other party members had decided to cook breakfast. The ensuing culinary disaster – burnt eggs, incinerated bacon, a kitchen filled with acrid smoke – had forced Ignis to halt their D&D session and make an emergency run to the store to replace a ruined pan. Just the thought of eggs swimming in blackened bacon grease made him unconsciously scratch at his arms. He caught himself, forcing his hands still, an act that required a surprising amount of effort given the lingering fog of his hangover.
He rolled out of his top bunk, landing hard on his knee with a thud that echoed through the hideout. A silent thank you escaped his lips for the Cadium flowing through his system, dulling the pain to a minor inconvenience. He crawled towards the sound of the others, pushing himself into the dining area.
“GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE!” Pierce chirped, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took in Ignis's less-than-graceful entrance.
“Now that we're all here,” Evolon added, eyes twinkling as she exchanged a knowing glance with Flint, “we have presents!”
“Coffee,” Ignis moaned, dragging himself upright and collapsing into a chair at the table.
“Grok has a present for Evolon” Grok said, producing the rose scented soap for the woman to inspect.
“Oh I love it!” Evolon said with a girly squeal smelling the bar of soap.
Flint retrieved an energy drink and a power bar from his seemingly endless inventory, placing them in front of Ignis. Then, with a flourish, he added a gleaming short sword to the growing pile. Evolon followed suit, producing a pair of dark, leather bracers banded with metal. Pierce, with a mischievous grin, pulled out a large, white bottle that rattled ominously and added two white pills to the collection.
“I love you,” Ignis groaned, popping the pills into his mouth and washing them down with a long gulp of Cherry Blast energy drink.
Pierce chuckled. “Oh, I forgot, I can do this now. Silly me, reverting back to old habits…” He reached out, his hand glowing with a soft, white light, and cast a healing spell on his friend.
Ignis straightened up instantly, his eyes widening. “WOW, NOW I REALLY LOVE YOU!” he exclaimed, the change in his demeanor dramatic. “My pounding headache is completely gone! The cottonmouth is still there, but way less intense.”
“I see Evolon and Flint had a productive day yesterday,” Pierce said, nodding towards the sword and bracers. “The swords and vambraces are amazing and come at the perfect time. I figured out how to enchant utility effects along with stat boosts onto gear. I can also increase the stats already on an item, or add new random ones. Here's the list of effects I can do, but each item can only have one, and their effectiveness is based on your Cadium, not mine, once they're on something you're wearing, and no I cannot re-enchant gear you already have without destroying it.” He beamed with pride, presenting a hastily scribbled list.
“I think the swords should just be stat items for now,” Pierce suggested, “because a few extra damage points won't matter as much in the long run for most of us, except maybe for Flint in close combat. We do need to figure out what utility enchantments we want, though, so we can synergize with our roles in the party. The enchantments that didn't translate into spells are what I'm going to add to my items. I'm picking Mana Sight and Cold Resistance. What about you guys?” He looked at his friends, who were studying Pierce's list with varying degrees of concentration.
“Grok, you're like a pharmacist,” Evolon said, squinting at the list. “What does this chicken scratch say?”
Grok frowned. “What? I cannot read it either.”
Flint roared with laughter, slapping the table. “Oh, in our world, doctors have horrible handwriting, and Pierce here was training to be one. I swear, first-year medical students have to pass a class where they're trained to write in the worst way possible, and first-year pharmacists take a class on deciphering the mess!”
Evolon, after a moment of deciphering, finally spoke. “I’ll take Night Sight and Compass. Keep the stats on the sword, add random ones to the bracer. Seeing in dark places should help with finding traps, and a compass will help me navigate better in the wilderness.” She presented her sword and bracers to Pierce for enchantment.
“Light Source on the bracers and Insect Repellant on the sword,” Flint declared. “The light up front can help everyone see the baddies in the dark, and I don't have to explain why I want those buggers to stay far away from me. The only good bug is a dead bug!”
“Oh, if you're wondering, you can have one weapon sheathed on your person, using its stats and effects, while wielding another,” Pierce added, “but we'll need some leather sheaths for that. Is that something you can take care of, Ev?”
“I can whip something up in the next hour or so,” Evolon replied, inspecting her newly enchanted gear with a satisfied smile.
“Heat Sight and Water Breathing for me,” Ignis said. “I like how seeing heat and cold sources synergizes with my fire and ice spells. It could give me an advantage in battle. If a cold-based monster isn't obviously cold, I can know to use fire more quickly. Remember that time you tried to freeze a blue dragon in D&D? Without metagaming, our characters had no idea it was just healing him.” He chuckled, recalling their party's disastrous encounter.
“Grok will take Eagle Eye and Levitate,” Grok announced. “I would soon like to continue my role as an aerial scout, and these two enchantments would make me much more effective and safe in the air.” She produced her bracers and sword, offering them to Pierce with a slight bow.
Evolon, who had been observing Flint with a curious expression, suddenly spoke. “I do have a question, Flint. We had to practically drag you into that cave before all this started… Now you're just fine with being underground in this hideout. What changed?”
Flint paused, considering his response. “You know how Cadium dulls pain? I think it also has some form of fear resistance, making its wielder more bold.”
“A powerful warrior without a powerful mind is nothing,” Grok added. “If they ran at the first hint of danger, what good would they be on the battlefield?”
Just then, the hidden door to the hideout swung open with a BANG, and Gustavo entered with his usual boisterous energy. “GOOD MORNING, MY FRIENDS!” he boomed. “HOW ARE YOU ON THIS GLORIOUS DAY?”
“Good,” Pierce replied, “but I think we're close to being done with crafting for now. How soon is this auction?”
“The auction is set for just after noon today,” Gustavo explained, his tone shifting to the practiced ease of a seasoned merchant, “with a large after-party for the more influential guests. They have been portaling in all morning with their private guards. Every corner of the city has a pair of guards posted, with roaming squads ensuring a peaceful event.”
“Will any council members be attending?” Grok asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
“Not directly,” Gustavo assured her, “but members of their inner circle should all make an appearance. Fear not, your Cadium amount should not be sensed, as they would either need a very powerful and rare spell or would need to be within a few Cadium of yourself to sense how much you have. This is all speculation, as all knowledge of Cadium users over two is held as extremely secretive.”
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“Why all the protection?” Evolon inquired. “Are events like this normally dangerous?”
“Any gathering with this much power and cash is sure to bring the most desperate to the surface for a shot at riches and glory,” Gustavo explained. “They are normally low-level, desperate thugs, easily crushed.”
“I have a private box reserved for the Backup Plan adventuring group,” Gustavo announced, handing each party member a shimmering golden stone. “Please remember to keep your masks on for the foreseeable future.”
“Okay,” Pierce said, addressing the group, “finish up your projects and pack up your crafting gear. By noon, we're headed to the auction house. We'll likely stay here one final night, but by tomorrow morning, we're headed through the portal. We have a date with a Doombringer.” He met each of their eyes, receiving a nod of agreement in return.
After a quick lunch of eel kabobs, the group followed Gustavo back to the surface. The familiar trek through the underground passages passed quickly, and soon they were back on the bustling streets of Dunblag, assaulted by its pungent smells and crowds of alien lifeforms. As expected, large Orc guards were posted in pairs on every corner, with small groups of three patrolling between them, ensuring order. They soon approached a massive spherical structure, magical holograms swirling around it, proclaiming the exclusive auction and displaying a countdown timer ticking down to the event's start time.
The group flashed their golden tickets to the guards at the entrance and were ushered to a private booth by a young human boy. He gestured towards a refreshments bar at the back of the booth, stocked with a platter of meat, bread, and various drinks, then held out his hand expectantly.
“I guess tipping is universal,” Flint remarked, tossing the boy a gold coin.
“Actually, it's mostly an American thing,” Pierce mused aloud. “I'm not sure how that translates to this world. Maybe some powerful businessman traveled to Earth and used his knowledge of underpaying staff and requesting tips to further his fortune.”
“I bet it was the same with the Templars,” Flint countered, “when banks and the idea of interest were first introduced. The culture of contracts and business seems to go back much farther in magical society history than the 1400 or so years we've had it on Earth.”
“I cannot speak for the greater universe,” Grok added, “but the Zotto tribe has used contracts for 50,000 years, with the written texts widely available for any clan member to view when studying in primary school.”
“I thought so,” Flint said, nodding. “Far back in my family tree, we made weapons and armor for the Templars, who paid with some of the earliest banknotes. My grandpa still has some of the paperwork framed on his wall. If your culture goes back that far, my theory is plausible.” He continued to muse aloud while the others gawked at the impressive interior of the auction hall.
“The Grand Emporium is often used as a museum,” Gustavo explained, “hosts plays, and of course, serves as an extremely secure auction house. Beneath it is one of the most well-protected vaults in all of Dunblag.”
The grand hall surrounding them was the inside of the giant hollow sphere atop the building. The sphere was lined with private boxes, each with a shimmering field blocking spells, sight, and sound from all other attendees. Plush couches and chairs were arranged facing the center of the sphere, each with a small table bearing magical runes in front of it. In the center of the sphere, another shimmering force field enclosed the auction platform.
“You place your hand on the reader,” Gustavo explained, demonstrating by placing his hand on the table near his seat on a large black leather couch, “which lets you inspect any item in the auction catalog. You simply swipe left or right on the table to move forward or back to the next item. This allows everyone in attendance to securely validate the item's authenticity and strategize on their bidding to ensure all parties have a fair shot at winning what they want.”
“Oh,” Evolon said, placing her hand on the table before her, “I thought these were for your bingo cards. I once went on a cruise, and they had something just like this, but it was for cocktails and bingo. This makes much more sense in this setting, though.”
The group swiped through the item list, chatting about the usefulness of several items and estimating what they would sell for, quickly realizing that most were out of their league – at least until the proceeds from the sale of their own items were distributed. The rules stated that bidders could only bid with gold they had on their person, and the amount was instantly removed from their inventory via the enchanted table upon bidding and returned if they were outbid.
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a slender, effeminate male Orc with surprisingly delicate features and a voice that could curdle milk. He took the stage and cleared his throat.
He introduced the first item up for auction: a pair of boots that allowed the wearer to walk on water. They were also fitted with self-repair and "well-fitting" enchantments, but no further stat boosts were included. The party collectively liked but didn't love the item, which erupted in a flurry of bids as disguised voices called out from around the room. Only the bid amounts were audible; no other noise was permitted through the privacy fields. A growing number appeared above the auctioneer's head, slowing as it reached 1,000 gold and finally selling for 1,107 gold.
"If this junk sells for over eleven hundred gold," Pierce whistled, "what are our items going to go for?"
"Utility enchantments are common," Gustavo explained, his grin widening. "Items with up to five stat points are more rare, but having two or three stat points of over twenty each are so incredibly rare as to be impossible to find. To have six of them in one auction is... well, you will see."
The next few items were less impressive and sold for less than the first. A cursed dagger that whispered secrets in its wielder's ear, a potion that promised eternal youth, and a crystal ball that could show your deepest desires all sold quickly for a few hundred gold each.
Of the next dozen items, only a halberd with a life-tap enchantment that healed the wielder for ten percent of the damage inflicted sold for over a thousand gold. Before they knew it, the main event had begun.
“Behold!” The auctioneer proclaimed as a plain leather breastplate slowly rose from a hole in the center of the auction platform, bathed in bright light. “A masterpiece of craftsmanship and enchanting! This seemingly common breastplate, created by The Celestial Artisans, boasts three stats above thirty each, bolstering even the fiercest warrior among us while hiding them in plain sight. No need for flashy armor to make you stand out in a large battle, painting a glowing target on your back. The owner of this armor will look like any other simple combatant while wielding undeniable power to shift battles in their favor at a whim!” The auctioneer hyped the plain brown leather breastplate to such a degree that the party almost felt compelled to bid, before remembering they owned far superior gear.
The bidding started at three thousand gold and jumped in increments of a thousand before slowing around the sixty-five hundred mark, finally selling for seven thousand gold.
“The council members are frantically bidding against each other,” Gustavo explained, his grin stretching even wider, “knowing a large balance of power lies in the wake of this auction. This is why six items is the perfect amount. One for each of them, and one for whomever has the funds to purchase it in the aftermath. The combined taxes of each of their territories for several months, or even years, are being spent today.”
The next four items auctioned followed a similar pattern, selling for between sixty-five hundred and eighty-five hundred gold. But the final item of the night went quite differently. Lower booths on the sphere started the bidding, hoping for their own piece of power, but quickly realized that none of the powerful council members who had won the previous items would allow anyone but themselves to own the last one, thus completing their coup and tipping the balance of power in their favor. The bidding slowed around ten thousand one hundred gold before a bid of twelve thousand came from one of the lower rows of boxes.
“There it is,” Gustavo said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “One of the powerful members of government, merchants, or possibly even an underling of a council member themselves, attempting to rise to a seat of power. If only they realized Cadium, not equipment, is the real power. Soon, a small civil war between council members will leave that poor being dead in a ditch somewhere, their shiny new sword taken as spoils. Then the real sparks will fly. You see, the silent underground movement to remove the council from power just struck the first blow of a war they will never see coming. But first, we will have them weaken themselves before the hammer of justice strikes the final blow.”
“Let me guess,” Ignis said, “war is good for profits?”
Gustavo laughed. “Peace is also good for profits, but manipulating a war can be more profitable.”
“Do you have any rules of acquisition?” Pierce asked with a smile.
“Not that I know of,” Gustavo chuckled, “but I like the sound of that. Oh, before I forget, do not go around town flaunting your money. Lay low for some time and spend it slowly, lest you paint a target on your own back.”
As the auction ended, each party member received around ten thousand gold, while Gustavo received a cut of just under three thousand, deposited directly into their inventories. Standing to leave the private box, Flint made a quick sandwich and Grok grabbed a mug of ale. Masks still in place, the group moved down the hallway to the ballroom for the after-party, where the rich and powerful attendees could flaunt their newly acquired goods – or hide them away, leaving everyone to theorize and gossip about who purchased each item.