ENTRY 023: THE HIGHEST BIDDER
Dear Diary,
Today, I made the mistake of thinking an auction was a good idea. A minor spoiler: it wasn’t.
It all started with a cursed amulet I couldn’t sell. The thing was beautiful—golden, encrusted with rubies, and glowing with an ominous red hue. The curse? It compels the wearer to always speak the absolute truth, no matter how inappropriate or ill-timed.
Nobody wanted it. Adventurers called it a liability, and even collectors balked at the idea of airing their deepest thoughts for all to hear. So, in a moment of what I thought was brilliance, I decided to hold an auction and pretend it was actually an amulet of good fortune.
Looking back at it, I should have settled for “moderate fortune,” because the event drew a bigger crowd than expected. It consisted mostly of eccentric collectors and a few thrill-seeking adventurers. I set the starting bid at twenty gold and braced for disappointment. Instead, the room erupted into a frenzy.
“Thirty gold!” shouted a wealthy elf in a feathered hat.
“Forty!” countered an albino dwarf.
The bids kept climbing. Fifty. Sixty. Eighty! I should’ve been thrilled, but the atmosphere was getting… tense.
When the elf upped the bid to a hundred gold, the dwarf slammed his fists on the counter, making the broom fall off its perch. “A hundred and twenty!” he roared, glaring daggers at his rival.
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“Two hundred!” the elf countered, smirking smugly. That’s when things took a turn.
“Enough of this!” the dwarf bellowed, pulling out a warhammer. “Nobody outbids Galactimar!”
The elf sneered, drawing a slender wand. “The same goes for Nelyendel!”
A few dozen other battlecries were made, and my pawn shop turned into a battlefield.
The dwarf swung his hammer, sending half my shelves upside-down. The elf retaliated with a blast of magic. Some customers scrambled for cover as fireballs and bolts of energy flew across the room, others joined in.
There was even one sly goblin who managed to organize a betting pool. I saw Korgath put a copper piece on the dwarf.
“Stop it!” I yelled in horror, diving behind the counter as a cursed mirror exploded nearby. “This is an auction, not a gladiator match!”
But who ever listens to Garren? Desperate, I grabbed the enchanted amulet and was ready to bolt.
“LISTEN TO ME!” I shouted instead. The curse hit me like a slap, forcing the words out before I even knew what I was saying. “You’re both idiots! This amulet is cursed, and it’s not worth the price of a loaf of bread!”
The room went silent.
The elf froze, wand mid-air. The dwarf lowered his hammer. “What?” they both said in unison.
I couldn’t stop. “The curse makes you tell the truth! It’s not a collector’s item, it’s a liability! I’ve been trying to get rid of it for months, and this auction was my last-ditch attempt to unload it before I threw it in the river!”
I tried to cover my mouth, but the words tumbled out like water from a broken dam. “It doesn’t boost your charisma! It doesn’t make you immune to lies! It just ruins your social life and makes everyone hate you!”
The dwarf dropped his hammer with a thud. “I’ll pass,” he spat, walking out the door.
The elf followed, shaking his head. “You should’ve just been honest from the start.”
The curse forced one final gem from me, loud enough for the whole shop to hear. “I sleep with a stuffed owlbear named Mr. Hoots!”
The amulet is back in the cursed bin, and I’ve learned my lesson: never auction cursed items unless you’re ready to ruin your reputation and your shop in one fell swoop.
But oh well, look at the time! I really ought to go to bed, Mr. Hoots has been waiting for me.
Yours in profit,
Garren