Vic and Harald set out for the Platinum Rose Auction House early the next day. It was overcast, clouds pressing down heavy upon the rooftops and towers of Flutic, and all the colors seemed bleached of vibrancy. Carriages sprayed wet gravel from their wheels, and few pedestrians were out in the Angelus Quarter.
“Feels inauspicious,” murmured Harald, peering out the foggy carriage window.
Vic was retying his cravat for the umpteenth time. “Don’t be superstitious. We make our own luck, darling. And today? You’re going to be the belle of the ball.”
Harald resisted the urge to stretch. Their late night stay at an obscure tailor’s had resulted in an old suit of his being revived; he now wore a sober doublet of gray velvet patterned with black thread arabesques about the shoulders and across his chest, and his sleeves ballooned down to his forearms. A half-cloak of black sable hung rakishly from his shoulders, its inner lining dove gray.
“Monochrome is crucial when avoiding all chances of accidental favoritism.” Vic had been in his element last night, sounding at once jaded and wry. “Does an inner lining of forest green suggest a proclivity for House Thornvale? A blue accent on your tunic indicate an interest in House Silvershield? Best to give everyone’s fevered imaginations no incitement for conjecture.”
It had been gratifying to observe how much the wizened old tailor had taken out from his doublet, tightening it around his stomach even as he’d been forced to widen it for his shoulders and chest. His thighs had strained his old breeches, so that in the end only his shoe size seemed to have remained the same.
“By the angels,” Vic had murmured from where he’d lounged on a chaise. “What have they been feeding you, Harry-boy? You look like Harald’s older brother who went in for a life of thuggery, not the soft and gentle butterbun I used to know.”
Harald had taken quiet pride in that.
“Now,” said Vic, patting his cravat. “The auction begins at Twelfth Bell, but everyone will arrive by Eleventh at the latest. You’ve been to an auction at one of the primary houses?”
Harald shook his head.
“You poor dear. Such criminal neglect. But regardless: auction houses are accepted as neutral territory by one and all; the Platinum Rose will provide its own security, but that’s mostly for show. Any disruption will result in not only the Rose but every other auction house refusing to do business with you, and that’s a mortal blow to even a major house. Thus everyone will be on their very best behavior, which allows for mingling, gossip, and the dealing of business without the need for watching one’s back.”
“Sounds delightful,” said Harald.
“It is if you’ve a talent for political maneuvering. Which, as it turns out, I have. Countess Sonora asked that I escort her, but when she learned that I was escorting you, she was more than willing to forgo my usual witticisms. With the understanding of course that she’ll have a moment alone with you before the bidding begins.”
“That’ll be an honor,” said Harald. “I have much to thank her for.”
“Oh darling.” Vic’s smile was fond and pitying both. “The tables are turned. Lady Yseult Khan’s visit was proof enough of that. Countess Sonora hasn’t said as much, but I know she’s thrilled to already have you in her debt. She’ll seek to leverage that advantage, and honestly, I can’t blame her. Alas. She’s jousting with the big boys today, and she simply doesn’t have the funds or leverage to compete.”
“Speaking of.” Harald dug out the Gazette. It had been delivered that morning, just before daybreak, and the ink was sharp and slightly smeared on the flimsy paper. “Strange. My face isn’t on the front page.”
Vic looked askance as Harald grinned.
The gazette was composed of a number of folded pages, each covered in dense type arranged in neat albeit formidable columns.
The front page was, as always, given to a headline story about the most significant raiding achievement of the previous month, followed by an editorial note. This month featured Lady Hammerfell’s slaying of the Vortex Hydra on the 63rd Level. A sketch of Lady Hammerfell was inset on the left, portraying a kind, oval face framed by flowing hair, with hints of spikes from her pauldron rising to one side.
Vic leaned over to peer at the article. “Ooh, Lady Hammerfell. She’s incredible. Not because she’s a Gold-ranked raider for House Drakenhart, nor because she’s a Level 14 Dragonslayer Knight, but because she’s over eight feel tall and perfectly—I mean perfectly—proportioned.” Vic leaned back with a sigh. “I’ve never considered the idea of being crushed to death attractive until I met her.”
“You’ve met Lady Hammerfell?”
“Well, not officially. Nor unofficially, I suppose. But I’ve seen her a couple of times. It’s hard not to, really. She stands out in a crowd, you could say.”
Harald snorted and scanned the article. “Amid the shadowy, turbulent waters of the 63rd Level, where even the bravest dared not linger, Lady Hammerfell’s zweihander gleamed with the promise of legend. Hmm. They got a quote from her: ‘The beast’s defiance couldn’t withstand the combined fury of my crew. I was most fortunate to fight the hydra with my companions by my side.’”
“Charmingly modest,” agreed Vic. “But never mind Hammerfell.”
Harald skipped the Editorial Note at the bottom and turned the page. The entirety of the inside was given to a table of the Top 100 active raiders according to their last registered scale count. As a child, Harald would study these names with avid curiosity, but had lost interest after his mother’s death. Their glory had only reflected his lack. For the first time, however, he scanned the top names.
1. Seraphine the Skyward Blade | Unaffiliated | 37,309,221 scales
2. Thornar Blackhammer | House Emberfell | 29,188,565 scales
3. Yseult Khan | House Celestara | 28,316,233 scales
4. Lysandra the Dawnbringer | House Silvershield | 23,390,111 scales
5. Aurion Crush | House Drakenhart | 20,022,288 scales
6. Orin Vex, Keeper of Secrets | House Veridian | 19,433,873 scales
7. Brianna Hammerfell | House Drakenhart | 18,732,233 scales
8. Earthshaker | House Thornvale | 15,098,233 scales
9. Elenya Simarien | Unaffiliated | 13,443,765 scales
10. Newt One-Eye | House Veridian | 12,345,398 scales
“Lady Yseult’s ranked third.” Harald couldn’t believe it. “And she’s still ten million behind this Seraphine? Who’s ‘unaffiliated’?!”
“Ah, Seraphine the Skyward Blade.” Vic was clearly trying to sound knowing. “What a delicious enigma she is. You know how the more scales you absorb, the more physically enhanced you become, which also means you become ever more strikingly handsome or beautiful?”
Harald thought of Lady Yseult’s breathtaking looks. “Right?”
“Seraphine’s apparently almost painful to gaze upon. And too powerful to be strongarmed into a House. The tales I could tell you, my boy! They’d fill an evening. But we’ve not the time. Come on, look at the Copper Charts.”
Harald turned past the active Gold and Silver tables. There were perhaps only 300 listed in the three columns of the Gold table, which ballooned to a couple of thousand in the Silver, taking up the next six pages. The Copper table had a cut-off clause clearly listed up top: only Copper ranked raiders with over 10,000 scales were listed, reducing the nearly 13,000 registered active raiders to a svelte group of 5,000 over the next twelve pages.
“I’ll never find my name,” said Harald, peering in dismay at the endless rows of crabbed script bunched into tiny columns.
“Look at the ‘Notable Increases’ sidebar,” said Vic, turning the page back to the front of the Copper section. “There. And look who has pride of place.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
There, in the smudged type of the gazette, read:
● Harald Darrowdelve | Unaffiliated | 11,040 | 1,024 | 4th Level | 978% Increase
The next in line was:
● Marika Flame | House Thornvale | 14,332 | 10,587 | 22nd Level | 135% Increase
“Poor Marika,” murmured Vic. “What would have been a banner month for her now looks like she was sleeping on the job.”
“Why am I listed as ‘Unaffiliated’?” asked Harald. “I’m House Darrowdelve.”
“House Darrowdelve is a mere technicality, darling. If you’re not associated with one of the Big Six, or one step removed, you’re nobody.”
“Hmm.” Harald flipped through the remaining pages. There was an interview with Lord Thornvale, a few sketches of notable Artifacts recovered, an economics section listing the total amount of scales brought out of the dungeon (1,343,322), total absorbed by raiders within the dungeon (672,909), and the combined amount harvested (2,016,231). This was contrasted with the total harvested during the most productive year on record (677, when 19,165,872 was extracted), along with a chart of the past year showing a declining line.
Finally there was an obituary section, a rumor mill, and several pages of advertisements listing everything from smiths to inns to vendors of certified dungeon maps and the locations of hidden caches of scales.
Harald closed the Gazette and tossed it to Vic, who batted it away.
“Well. Top of the Notable Increases is hard to miss,” allowed Harald. “But doesn’t that doesn’t happen often?”
Vic considered. “No? But it’s more the fact that you did it on the 4th Level that has raised eyebrows. Someone like Marika is no doubt part of a solid Thornvale Copper-ranked crew, with resources, expertise, and the ability to grind on the 22nd Level. You? You’re a nobody who did the impossible on a played out floor where at best an enterprising raider might eke out 50 Coppers after a hard day’s work. You’re a mystery, Harry-boy, which means everyone is going to be dying to know how you did it.”
“Right.”
They soon arrived at the Platinum Rose. It was a large building built in the ornate style of the Jade Empire, with curving rooftops and great crimson pillars holding up a grand portico in the front. A long line of carriages was slowly inching forward as guests were deposited at the entrance and hurried up the broad steps to get out of the newly misting rain.
Harald peered out the window as they slowly approached. “There’s a lot of people here. How many auctions are taking place today?”
“It’s a Copper-grade estate auction,” said Vic, leaning over him to peer outside. “There will be other items sold alongside yours, but nothing to warrant this kind of attention.”
Harald’s heart sank. “You’re not saying they’re all here for me?”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying, darling!” Vic’s eyes gleamed. “By the angels, I’ve truly lucked into the best friend ever. You’re going to make me rich or very, very dead, Harry. It’s going to be a feeding frenzy in there. Poor Master Ling. He assuredly was not prepared for this level of interest in your books, carpets, and pisspots.”
Harald tried not to feel like a sacrificial lamb as their carriage finally stopped before the sodden red carpet that had been rolled out to the curb, and leaped lightly down as Vic paid the driver. Servants stepped up with umbrellas, their handles angled so that they shielded only the guests, and they strode up the carpeted steps and out of the rain under the portico’s stone awning.
“Welcome to the Platinum Rose Auction House!” beamed a beautiful young woman of Jade Empire ancestry, her dress metallic in hue and beautifully patterned to resemble the scales of a large, iridescent fish. “Whom do I have the honor of welcoming today?”
“Victor Carmine,” said Vic, bowing slightly with a smile. “And my erstwhile charge, Harald Darrowdelve.”
Harald followed suit and bowed in the same manner.
“Master Darrowdelve!” The young woman’s excitement was obvious. “We are most pleased that you have arrived! Master Ling is anxiously awaiting your company. May I escort you to him?”
Several of the other guests who’d been talking and laughing close by grew silent at the lady’s exclamation, and peered more carefully at Harald.
“Of course,” said Harald. “We’d be honored.”
“This way, please.” The hostess strode through the two broad doors that stood thrown open, their black lacquered faces covered with gleaming squares of crimson, and into the auction house proper.
Harald tried to mask his shock as they stepped into the massive entrance hall.
He’d once thought Darrowdelve as a place of refinement and wealth, but in comparison to the Platinum Rose, he’d clearly been raised in a moldering old dump.
The ceiling was high overhead, so that it felt as if they entered an ornate cavern of the utmost refinement. The caramel floor tiles were large and polished to such a degree that they appeared wet, light shimmering off their surface, with great carved discs inlaid every few yards to add distinction. Glossy crimson columns as thick and tall as trees rose along the flanks, their pediments charcoal black, and partitioning a side aisle beyond them illuminated by hanging lanterns of fantastical design.
Scale-lights set within carved beautifully carved boxes provided diffuse golden illumination, and between each column stood a massive vase, large enough to contain a full grown man, their sides so beautifully and intricately painted as to defy belief.
But it was the head of the hall that drew the eye, a free-standing partition at the top of three broad steps of rose quartz that was more a reredos and altar that anything else, all lacquered crimson and black with a massive circle of gold embedded in its center around a set of Jade Empire pictograms that Harald couldn’t read. Miniature trees flanked the altar of jet and gold, and everything, every aspect, every detail, spoke of exquisite taste and unlimited wealth.
The hall was large enough to appear only scarcely crowded, but Harald guessed that a good fifty guests were already present, standing in small groups and talking animatedly as servants plied them with trays of drinks and appetizers.
Their hostess, however, drew them quickly to a side door cunningly hidden behind one of the columns, and beside which stood an obvious warrior in crimson and gold armor.
The murmur of the hall was silenced when she closed the door behind them. They’d entered a miniature hall in its own right, all marble and slender columns, but with four doors along the right wall. The second was open, and within was an ostentatious study dominated by a broad desk of great beauty, the walls hung with scrolls covered in Jade pictograms or wistful, dreamlike renditions of foreign landscapes in black brushy ink.
Master Ling stood behind the desk, attended by three assistants as he reviewed a ponderous scroll, but when their hostess bowed deeply he gestured and his assistants departed swiftly, silently, to leave Harald and Vic alone with him.
“Master Darrowdelve!” Ling’s animation was at odds with his previously professional demeanor. “Your arrival honors the Platinum Rose. May I send for tea, or refreshments?”
“Thank you, Master Ling, but I’m quite all right.”
“I must admit, I had no idea that your estate would cause such a stir.” Master Ling beamed at him. “Either my finger is not on the pulse of Flutic’s interests, or you have done an incredible job of rousing said interest yourself.”
“I’m gratified,” said Harald, opting to play it safe. “I’d hoped for a good turnout, but this far exceeds my humble expectations.”
“And mine! Obviously the pieces we are putting up for sale are of the highest caliber, and come from a family of true distinction, so I am the fool for not guessing their consequent popularity. I have been notified that there are envoys from every major House, and several have already asked my employees as to your whereabouts. They seem almost more interested in yourself than our goods!”
“Right, yes.” Harald’s smile turned into a grimace. “I hope my being here doesn’t distract everyone from the auction itself.”
“Hardly, hardly. No doubt they simply desire to wish you well and tender their respect for your illustrious father. Why, I’ve been told Lady Hammerfell is here, leading the House Drakenhart contingent. Truly, my humble auction house is honored more than I can reasonably bare.”
“Lady Hammerfell is here?” Harald wondered how he’d missed her in the crowd. “That’s… I mean…”
“Yes, yes,” agreed Master Ling, beaming. “I have been waiting your arrival so that we can work the crowd together. I would be delighted to effect whatever introductions you deem desirable.”
“Of course, thank you.” Harald tried not to feel overwhelmed. “That would be most appreciated.”
“Now, before we engage in pleasantries, let me review the auction process.” Master Ling then quickly and efficiently outlined the schedule for the day, displayed the order in which all the items would be brought up for bidding, and explained how the bidding process itself worked.
“Well then!” Master Ling beamed. “Shall we venture forth? Do not fear, Master Darrowdelve, I am an old hand at navigating such crowds. I shall be most attentive to your needs, and will seek to extract you at a moment’s notice if I notice your displeasure. If it all becomes too much for you, there are many private waiting rooms to which you can retreat and await the outcomes of the bidding.”
“You are most kind, Master Ling. Thank you.”
Vic had proven content to listen with avid interest up until this point, but now chose to smile graciously. “Master Ling, we’ll await you just outside your door. Surely you need a second or two to prepare yourself?”
The old auctioneer didn’t bat an eyelid. “But of course, Master Carmine. You are too considerate. I shall be with you shortly.”
Harald followed Vic outside and down the small hallway to the doors.
“The old goat has an agenda of his own,” murmured Vic, slipping his arm through Harald’s. “No doubt he plans to display you to his favorites first, and demonstrate his own importance by presenting himself as your guardian. Let’s play along for as long as it suits us, yes? But when I notice him overstepping his bounds, do follow my lead.”
“Sure, yes.” Harald felt way out of his depth. The memory of the glittering entrance hall filled with important guests made his stomach sink. A minor lordling he might have been, but he’d never frequented court, and his father had never entertained true nobility, preferring crowds drawn from the extended friends and family of his raiding crew. “Any advice before we go out there?”
Vic considered him. “Appearances are everything, darling. If you emerge looking as scared as a field mouse, you’ll only encourage everyone to act like starving hawks. But step out there looking like a warrior born, the man who rose by a thousand percent on the 4th Level, embrace your mystique, show no interest, affect disdain, and present yourself as a lion, and even the Gold-ranked raiders will approach you with caution. Remember: you are an unknown element. They shall be seeking desperately to determine which box to place you in. Don’t let them. When in doubt, just smile. There is no need to answer any question, whether direct or indirect. Smile, incline your head as if acknowledging their wit, and then… just walk away.”
“Just walk away,” repeated Harald. “Unknown element. Embrace my mystique.”
“The angels wept,” said Vic. “Try this: shoulders back, chest puffed, chin up. Imagine that at any moment you’re going to strike them down with an imaginary sword.”
The words worked like a charm: Harald could almost hear Nessa’s bark, and immediately he settled himself, his posture straightening.
“Very good,” said Vic as Master Ling emerged from his office. “Now. Into the fray.”