Chapter 208: The auction
---
Mira continued with crisp detail. "The blade is broad and crimson, with runic fire channels along the fuller. The channels are not decorative. They are functional. The warblade can draw chaos energy through the etched lines and convert it into stable heat output. It is designed for sustained combat, not one-time burst tricks. It has high display value and strong performance value. It is also balanced for a two-hand grip, but the core reinforcement allows one-hand use for a stronger host."
A murmur ran through the hall. Someone whistled softly. Someone else laughed once in disbelief, then stopped when they realized this was real.
In the bidder section, a military representative in plain armor leaned toward his companion and muttered, "That would cut through lower domain beasts like paper."
A noblewoman with jeweled earrings leaned toward her husband and said, "It matches my house colors."
Her husband looked like he wanted to cry.
Sekhmet watched the hall with calm eyes. They will fight for prestige before they fight for usefulness, he thought. That is good. Prestige bidders burn stones fast.
Lily sat near him, posture composed, but her eyes were bright and predatory in their own way. "It is pretty," she whispered. "I want it."
Sekhmet glanced at her. "You already have a city."
Lily’s lips curved. "Cities do not cut people."
Sekhmet did not argue. He understood the impulse too well.
Mira lifted the bell chain.
"The opening bid for the Flame-Etched Warblade is five hundred thousand chaos stones," she said evenly.
The number landed like a hammer. A few newer buyers flinched. Some lower houses swallowed hard. Others smiled, because to them five hundred thousand was simply the entry ticket for serious conversation.
A rank-one wealthy collector raised a bid marker instantly. "Six hundred."
A beastkin clan buyer raised next. "Seven."
A mercenary guild representative laughed and raised. "Eight hundred."
A noble house bidder raised without expression. "Nine hundred."
The numbers climbed too fast for casual spectators to track, and that was exactly how auctions became addictive. The human mind loved watching wealth burn when it was not their own.
Iron House finally moved.
One of Dickoff’s scribes lifted a marker calmly, like placing a chess piece. "One million."
(Note: I changed the money value. There are high, mid and low grade chaos stones. The bid is happening in low grade chaos stones.)
A ripple passed through the crowd. People turned their heads. Some looked nervous. Some looked excited. Iron House bidding always changed the room’s temperature because Iron House didn’t bid to win one item. Iron House bid to dominate the story.
Mira did not react. She simply nodded, acknowledging the number.
A noble house hesitated. A smaller buyer dropped out immediately. A mercenary rep grinned like he had been waiting for this.
"Two million," the mercenary rep said loudly, trying to show bravery.
The room reacted with laughter and surprise. That was not a small jump. That was a man either very rich or very determined to make a point.
Iron House answered without hurry. "Two point five."
The mercenary rep’s grin tightened. He looked at his partner, who shook his head slightly.
The beastkin buyer raised anyway. "Three."
A noblewoman in an upper box leaned forward and said quietly, "Three point two."
Then an older man with a scar across his cheek, seated in a mid-tier row, lifted his marker. "Four."
The hall went quieter. Four million was not insane for Legendary Grade Three, but it was a statement. It meant the warblade had crossed from "valuable" into "fighting over it will hurt."
Iron House paused for the first time. Not because they could not pay. Because Iron House was calculating what else they intended to buy today.
Sekhmet watched Dickoff Iron.
Dickoff did not blink. He tapped his armrest once.
His scribe raised the marker again. "Four point five."
The scarred man did not hesitate. "Five."
A low whistle moved through the hall. Mira’s posture remained steady, but her timing slowed slightly, letting the crowd taste how high the number had climbed. It encouraged reckless bidders. Reckless bidders were beautiful.
Iron House’s scribe began to raise again.
Then a voice from an upper box spoke with lazy confidence.
"Seven million."
The hall froze.
Heads turned upward.
The box curtain parted just enough to reveal a symbol on the bidder’s ring. Not a famous god house crest, but a heavy mid-domain trade association mark, one of the big buyers who traveled down only when an item was worth making the trip. People murmured in awe. Some cursed quietly. Some immediately gave up hope of winning anything major today.
Iron House did not flinch.
Dickoff’s gaze remained steady.
But his scribe lowered the marker.
For now.
The box bidder held his marker calmly, not smug, not loud, simply stating that the warblade belonged to him now unless someone wanted to burn their house to take it.
Mira’s bell rang once.
"Seven million," she repeated. "Any higher bids."
Silence.
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Iron House did not move.
Mira let the silence stretch just long enough to become real. Then she rang again.
"Sold. Seven million chaos stones. To the upper box bidder. Dawn House thanks you for your patronage."
The hall exhaled. It was not a relief. It was adrenaline cooling.
The staff rolled the warblade away under escort. Paperwork moved immediately. A contract clerk approached the box with sealed documents and a portable contract stamp. Money was not just numbers here. Money was an obligation.
Lily leaned close to Sekhmet again. "Iron House let it go."
Sekhmet’s eyes remained calm. They are saving their bite for something else, he thought. Or they do not want mid-domain eyes noticing them too early. He said quietly, "They will try harder on the next one."
Mira signaled the staff for the second legendary case.
When it rolled out, the aura was cooler, cleaner, almost elegant. It did not feel like heat. It felt like moonlight hardened into metal.
Mira’s voice carried. "Legendary Grade Three. Moonglass Defensive Bracers."
The case opened slightly, not enough for anyone to touch, but enough for light to reflect properly. The bracers were silver-clear, almost translucent, with a faint shimmer like frozen water under moonlight. The design was simple, but that simplicity was what made it look expensive. It was the kind of item that nobles loved because it made them look refined while still being functional. It was also the kind of item soldiers loved because it saved lives.