Chapter 255
Chapter 255
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 255
Chapter Title: Hassan Goes to the Auction House 255? Hassan Goes to the Auction House #3
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Crackle, clack—clatter.
The sound of an abacus being flicked echoed from somewhere. I turned my head and saw a middle-aged halfling in a long judicial robe, perched in what could pass for the jury box, adjusting his glasses.
"Let's see... According to the report, one clinic building completely burned down. Compensation for the victims caught in the blaze, plus half-destruction of the laundry in East Gate Street. Then the garden and fences..."
The man mumbled as he ran through various calculations. He was probably an insurance agent or appraiser for the city.
I didn't care what the guy did for a living, and neither did most of the people here. What we were all waiting for wasn't the man himself, but the number he was about to announce.
"Alright... The total comes to... The defendant, Elfriede Desmond, has caused damages to the city of Sodoma amounting to, including the costs of this trial, exactly 225 gold, 63 silver, and 12 copper."
The halfling adjusted his glasses as he delivered the verdict. Sighs of "ooh" erupted here and there.
225 gold.
Yeah, that figures. An absurd amount.
That was the cost of the damage Elfriede had inflicted by burning down East Gate Street.
As fire damage, it felt both larger and smaller than expected, but one thing was certain: it was an amount I'd never touch in my lifetime.
The judge spoke.
"The defendant owes 225—er..."
"Your Honor, it's 225 gold, 63 silver, and 12 copper."
"Does the defendant have the means to repay 225 gold, 63 silver, and 12 copper?"
At the judge's question, Elfriede fell into stony silence.
"No."
Her answer was curt, not matching the time she'd taken to think. Of course, 225 gold was a fortune even for an adventurer who'd slaved away for years at silver tier.
Just recently, she'd paid 120 gold—money she'd scraped together to save her comrades from the Abyss—to Hippolyte as hiring fees.
Right now, Elfriede was flat broke.
"I see. If she lacks the means to repay, proceed as planned."
The judge nodded indifferently and slammed his gavel down once—bang. The bespectacled halfling middle-aged man grinned and continued.
"The defendant Elfriede Desmond owes over 200 gold in total. Therefore, the minimum bid for this auction will start at 200 gold."
I'd only participated in human auctions a couple of times at most.
One of them—fuck—even I was the merchandise. It wasn't a memory I liked dwelling on, but standing here now, it came flooding back unbidden.
Criminals who committed major offenses faced execution or slavery.
And the bidding price for slaves varied based on the sentence or damages caused by the crime.
The buyers repaid the damages on behalf of the criminal and gained the right to own them as slaves in return—that was my understanding of the kingdom's legal system.
Of course, legally speaking, it was more complex with all sorts of rules and statutes, but I only knew that much, and it was enough.
Anyway, Elfriede's minimum bid was 200 gold.
Considering I'd gone for 10 gold, the price gap was insane.
No buyers showed up for me, so it dropped from 10 to 9, to 5 gold, down to 30 silver at the bottom, nearly leading to execution.
And Elfriede starts at 200 gold? I wondered how low it would go, but soon realized my thinking was too narrow.
"205 gold."
Someone raised their hand. In it was a placard with a strange number from entry.
The bespectacled halfling responded.
"Number 25 bids 205 gold! 205 gold. 205 gold?"
"210 gold."
"Number 75 bids 210 gold! 210 gold!"
"215 gold."
"Number 15, 215 gold!"
The price—
The price wasn't dropping; it kept climbing. I was utterly dumbfounded. What the hell was going on?
But it seemed I wasn't alone; the people around me looked just as stunned.
People bidding over 200 gold.
The merchandise is rare. A white female elf—at least 250 gold baseline. And she looks young.
Yeah, it's valuable stuff.
From the conversations, half couldn't believe the price was rising, while the other half accepted it.
Even for these folks in fancy clothes, 200 gold was a hefty sum, and Elfriede being a rare white elf was clear.
"225 gold! Number 27, 225 gold!"
"230 gold."
"Number 15, 230 gold! That covers the full repayment!"
Hands shot up everywhere, pushing the price higher, easily surpassing the damage amount.
Phew, good. That's covered.
A few faces brightened at the sight—probably victims of Elfriede's arson.
The ones who'd been red-faced with rage moments ago now watched with keen interest.
"250 gold."
Whoa, 250 gold?
This could be a big payout if it keeps going.
The higher the amount, the more the victims' feet itched with anticipation. Any excess over the repayment would be divided among them proportionally.
About 30 victims from Elfriede, so 25 gold surplus after 225 would be split fairly.
"270 gold."
And the price kept rising, so for those who'd been gloomy just moments ago, the prospect of extra cash beyond compensation was understandably thrilling.
Damn, wish she'd burned my house too. Got some broken pottery recently—maybe claim fire damage?
You'd get fucked if caught, idiot. Shut up and watch.
"Number 15, 270 gold! 270 gold! Number 30 bids 275 gold!"
The bidding heated up, prices skyrocketing. Mainly driven by the man in the bowler hat with placard 15 and the noblewoman in white with 30.
Number 15—Viscount Il Rak? Bidding strong.
Heard he's making bank in mining lately. Nouveau riche prick. Freshly titled noble flashing cash here.
Heard he collects rare races as servants. Guess it's true.
The man in the bowler and pince-nez, number 15, seemed like nobility. Mining noble? Heard there's a mine near Sodoma.
From the talk, his reason for buying Elfriede seemed a mix of showing off and collecting mania.
"Number 30, 285 gold!"
Now attention shifted to the woman competing with the viscount. A woman in a white dress with pumpkin-colored hair cascading like waves.
She looked familiar, but I dismissed it as impossible—I wouldn't know a noblewoman like that. Then someone spoke.
Who's number 30? New face. Pretty lady. Noble's daughter?
You clueless fuck. That's Countess Sardicci.
What? Her? A mom who gave birth to a daughter over 20?
Countess perks—eats all the youth elixirs. Famous for her beauty since young.
People nodded in realization, and I did too. I'd seen her at the banquet hosted by Sodoma's golden-bearded dwarf count.
Enya Sardicci, the count's daughter who'd forcibly drafted me. Her mother. Face so young, late twenties at most.
But why's she bidding on Elfriede? As curiosity stirred, more whispers followed.
Why's she buying a female slave? For tailoring?
Shut up, dumbass. Talk shit and you're done. Don't you know that dwarf count crushes anyone badmouthing his wife?
But seriously, why drop that much on a female elf?
Probably for that.
That?
The count's daughter—paralyzed since the war. Some curse. He's scouring healers and elixirs everywhere. You know?
Yeah, heard that. In the papers too.
I'd heard the story.
Hawkins Count, who runs much of Sodoma—his daughter, Lady Enya Sardicci. Returned from war with a fever and half-body paralysis.
But how's the daughter's curse related to this auction?
You know that famous elixir? Nymph master water seller. Elves are like nymph variants. White elf handling mana? White elf master water might lift the curse.
Ah—
Just my guess. Who knows highborn thoughts? Better not blab.
Makes sense, though.
It really did. The count doting on his daughter was famous.
Her returning paralyzed young— he'd pay any price to fix her. No matter the method or cost, not surprising.
My own dad fed me all sorts of shit to keep me healthy. Fuck, horrifying.
More than that—elf master water.
I imagined Elfriede steeping in boiling water. Elfriede in a hot spring.
Heard of ditch water nymphs, stream water nymphs, but boiling water elf felt fresh.
"Number 30, 300 gold! 300 gold! 300 gold?"
"320 gold."
"320—three hundred twenty gold!"
Bids jumped from 5-gold increments to 20-gold leaps.
Now people tensed, wondering where this power play would end.
320 gold—fuck, insane money.
Cheap gukbap's 3 copper a bowl. 100 bowls: 3 silver. 10,000: 3 gold. Shit, doesn't compute. A million bowls? Astronomical.
Elfriede's price exceeded not just the courtroom but the plaza outside—enough to feed Sodoma's citizens for days.
Selling one elf could fill the kingdom's beggars' bellies for a week.
The unreal sum made my vision swim. Was Elfriede worth that? Honestly, I didn't think so.
Maybe others felt the same; as it passed 330 gold, ironic murmurs rose.
Auction overheating?
Heard Il Rak viscount and Count Sardicci don't get along. Council rivals.
So the houses are proxy-warring here?
Beyond needing Elfriede, their feud had hidden motives and grudges.
Noticing, the judge banged his gavel—tang tang—to calm the crowd.
"Quiet. This auction seems overly heated. 330 gold? Since the thunderbolt of Jupiter's authority failed at 350, this is unprecedented in Sodoma's history."
He cleared his throat—hem hem—and continued.
"But consider: Jupiter's thunderbolt fetched 350 gold. Do you all think the tomato-smeared girl equals that?"
All eyes turned to Elfriede. Sitting on the floor, she just clicked her tongue—tsk.
Her price rising didn't please her; higher meant harder to buy freedom.
"Think again."
The judge ended there. Victims, who'd grinned at potential shares, grew glum. Then a hand rose.
"Honored Judge. May I speak?"
"Victim representative, Galraddo of the laundry. Go ahead."
"Even a grave criminal—doesn't she look pitiful slumped in filth? At least wipe the tomatoes? If you'll allow."
"You victims threw them. You wanted her hanged moments ago. Why the change?"
"Hate the sin, forgive the sinner. We respect your mercy and extend a bit to the white elf."
"Hm, fine. Reconciliation and forgiveness—a fine tale. Reporters, note: 'Judge Porfir's Beautiful Mercy'—good title."
Scribbling pens scratched everywhere. Female maids appeared with wet towels and white cloth garments.
They cleaned Elfriede's face and hair, then changed her clothes.
"Change here—?"
Even she resisted stripping before the crowd.
They screened her with thin cloth partitions—rustle rustle. The silhouette was more tantalizing.
"Chest feels tight."
Slap, slap.
Barefoot on the floor now, even shoes off.
"400 gold."
Viscount Il Rak spoke.
400 gold.
No one objected. If I had money, I'd bid higher. Others too, probably.
Mysterious white elf changing behind thin cloth.
It overwhelmed the chaotic courtroom.
Mouths shut, breaths and gulps filled the air.
Seemed she'd go to Viscount Il Rak. Then a man whispered to Judge Porfir-whatever.
After listening, he furrowed his brow and announced.
"Circumstances demand it—court adjourns here. Next session in a week, same place. Dismissed! Think well till then!"
Thud, thud-thud.
The sudden announcement caused uproar.
Abruptly ending a trial under Jupiter's authority? Who and why?