The Special Auction Begins
"Lord Darkan. This man is no mere bodyguard of mine."
"If not a bodyguard, then what?"
"He is the one most favored by the Fifth Lord."
"…"
"Should anyone dare lay a hand on him, the Fifth Lord will not stand idle."
"Will not stand idle, you say. Are you suggesting he would attack Darkan Territory itself?"
"Yes."
"… How arrogant."
Lord Darkan's brow furrowed. There was a vast difference between suspecting something and hearing it spoken aloud. And to think that barbarian-looking man was the Fifth Lord's favorite…
He had some intelligence on the White King and the Four Lords, but on the Fifth Lord he had nothing at all. That the White King himself would go so far as to vouch for someone made the depth of that affection plain enough.
Lord Darkan turned his gaze to his Guardian Knight, Pamel. Pamel gave a small shake of his head.
Even Pamel cannot gauge him. That man is no ordinary person — that much is certain.
And that was not all.
They said he crushed the Dersian family's Berserker.
The report had been almost impossible to believe. A powerhouse who had taken up the Skull Crusher — the emblem of the Giant race's greatest warriors — and scattered Sword Gang with it. True to the weapon's name, he had simply destroyed the Berserker.
Had the Fifth Lord even brought the Giants, the strongest of all races, under his banner? If so, Hudson's brazen confidence before him suddenly made sense.
Then Hudson added:
"… Of course, even if the Fifth Lord does not intervene, punishing this man would be impossible."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"There is no being in this world capable of harming him."
"…"
Bluster? But Hudson had already declared the man the Fifth Lord's favorite. Which meant even the Fifth Lord himself could not harm him.
In other words—
Could it be… that this man is the Fifth Lord?
… He did not know. But he knew this much: making a snap judgment and touching him would bring nothing but trouble.
"Hmph. There is no grounds for punishment in any case. It is certain that the young lady of Dersian struck first."
"M-My lord!!"
"Young lady of Dersian. This is not a place that covers up the mistakes you commit. On the contrary — you committed a crime and came to me hoping I would bury it. Does that not mean my honor means nothing to you?"
"Y-You know that is not what I meant!"
"Not what you meant? Still feel wronged, do you? Very well — then I shall convene a public trial."
"…!!!"
"How lightly must you have taken me, the Lord of Darkan, to dare pull a stunt like this? You would have an honorable man cover for your filth? Fine. I shall take this as the will of House Dersian itself."
"I-It is nothing of the sort! I-I only…!"
A public trial. If one were held, every citizen of the territory and the elders of House Dersian would witness it. This was Lord Darkan's warning to the Dersian family.
She had never imagined he would come down this hard. The young lady of Dersian trembled in pure shock.
"Furthermore, until the trial is convened, Isabella, you will be detained. Your family will be formally notified of the same."
He no longer even used the family name. She knew exactly what that meant, and the color drained from her face until it was white as paper.
"M-My lord!"
"Take her away at once."
"P-Please!!"
Soldiers dragged the young lady of Dersian out by force. Even as they hauled her off she kept shouting about the injustice of it all, but the lord dismissed her without a second glance.
"… Is this satisfactory?"
Lord Darkan looked not at Hudson, but at me. By his own measure, he had played a very strong hand on our behalf.
I shook my head.
"I will accept nothing short of her kneeling and apologizing in person."
"… Very well. It shall be done."
Before long, the young lady of Dersian was brought back and stood before me in a wretched state. She must have wept in her panic — her makeup was smeared into a mess. Of course she had never imagined Lord Darkan would refuse to take her side. Had she known we were people out of Labyrinth City, she never would have pressed the matter this far.
With Lord Darkan turned against her, she had no choice if she did not want the affair to explode. Before every watching eye, the young lady of Dersian dropped to her knees and apologized.
"I… I'm… I'm sorry…"
Drip. Drip.
Tears fell to the floor as she forced the rest out.
"I must have lost my mind for a moment. Please… please, forgive me…"
I had received her apology. That did not mean I intended to forgive everything on the strength of an apology alone.
The real lesson had not even begun.
"We now commence the Special Auction!"
A vast domed auction hall packed with nobles. At last, the Special Auction had begun.
The subjugation of the Four Calamities.
It was humiliation. It was disgrace.
This insult, this sense of degradation — she had never felt anything like it in her life. But she had no choice. This Special Auction had to succeed, and succeed splendidly.
Isabella. As representative of House Dersian, cooperate with Lord Darkan and see the Special Auction through. Show us what you can do.
A golden chance to prove her worth to the family. The outcome of this auction would fix her standing within House Dersian.
But the charge was not simply to focus on the bidding.
I have to be the star of this.
A Special Auction spanning a fortnight was an extension of the Empire's social season. Imperial nobles drowning in gold and silver competed with the recognized masters of outside cities, staking fortunes against one another. It was also a place to forge ties with rivals over those two weeks and aim for a greater leap.
In short: become the center of attention, and come home with allies. If she wanted a clean victory in the succession struggle, outside power was essential. Purchasing exceptional pieces with a keen eye served the same purpose.
… I cannot cross Lord Darkan right now.
House Dersian and House Darkan went back a long way. But this time, Lord Darkan had drawn a hard line. She was not even the head of House Dersian — merely a representative who had dropped by — and he had made it clear she was beneath his notice. Kneel, or face public humiliation at trial.
Had she refused, she would have been forcibly returned to House Dersian. Another heir would have taken charge of the auction, and she would have been locked away in some back room to waste her days. That could not be allowed. That, above all, had to be stopped.
So she had knelt. She had begged.
Agents of the Labyrinth, are they? Monsters, nothing more. What money could monsters possibly have?
Watching the auction open, the young lady of Dersian recovered her composure. The curtain had risen on the Special Auction at last. Those without money could only suck their thumbs and watch. What gold could monsters from a labyrinth possibly possess?
The first day was the most important of all — a stage for sizing one another up. Here she would show them what real money looked like. She would burn the dignity of House Dersian, and her own place in it, into their eyes for good.
Easily five hundred people sat in the domed auction hall. On the left side of the dome were the masked nobles of the Empire and their escorts. On the right, the invited outsiders had gathered. Split clean down the middle — as if sharing so much as the same side of the room was distasteful.
Hudson, Valte, and I sat squarely on the right, among the outsiders. Even a personal invitation from the lord himself, it seemed, could not change where we were seated.
Rulers of cities. Or masters of great powers.
I studied the outsiders at a measured pace. Excluding escorts, roughly a hundred. Every one of them was a city ruler, or someone of equivalent standing. A few faces I had glimpsed in passing at Darkan's Afternoon, but most were strangers.
There are Players mixed in among them.
I was certain of it. Among these people, Players were surely present — people pretending not to be Players, putting on a performance. Who? Which Players were acting the part of native Pangenia folk?
The Empire knows of Players with absolute certainty.
Knew of them? The Empire openly rejected them. That was why, when I had played as Wilhelm, I had never managed to forge ties with the Empire. Even when the Great Expedition was raised, the Empire had not participated. The Goddess Sect and most other powers had sent support large and small — yet the Empire had not shown so much as a nose tip.
Why? Because of the Great Expedition Wilhelm had launched. Because they had judged Wilhelm was not of Pangenia. On the single grounds that Wilhelm was not a native of this world, the Empire had given the expedition into the Demon Realm no support whatsoever. Their rejection of Players ran that deep.
And yet a Player had entered the Empire's interior?
They would try to kill them.
They would never leave such a person alone. They would use the Death God Religion, or simply move to kill them outright. That the main temple of the Death God Religion sat inside the Empire was no coincidence.
Perhaps—
There will be people here who identify Players. They may even be mixed into this very crowd.
A gathering of this many outsiders. Anyone trying to slip in among them had to be assumed present. Background checks would have been run at the invitation stage, but the Empire's thoroughness was famous. I could not afford to let my guard down. For a Player, this place was pure poison.
Even so, I had reason to be certain Players were mixed in here.
… If the intelligence Hudson brought is solid, Master is here.
At least one. No — two or more. Players including Master were in this hall.
Hudson had investigated the sales channels for the ruins sold out of Master's city, Ruins City. Most of them were consumed in the Golden City of Arcana, so there had not been much to dig into — but he had learned that Master was openly stockpiling gold. Even at the cost of cutting ruin prices, Master had been deliberately compressing payment deadlines to fall just before the Special Auction.
Probably those two.
Master's face had already been revealed more than once. The descent bodies of the other Seven Heroes, everyone but me. Masks made a detailed read difficult, but some things could not be hidden.
★★ — 2-Star Transcendent
Level. A 2-star Transcendent. And the woman beside him as well—
★ — 1-Star Transcendent
A 1-star Transcendent. True Transcendents who had formally consumed a Goddess's Star. Both of them were Players.
Master has not identified me yet.
I, on the other hand, had already pinned him down. Knowing first and knowing later were worlds apart. It meant I could strike first.
Master — one of the Speakers — had entered the Special Auction. Master. What was I going to do about him?
If only Serengeti were here…
With Serengeti, divide-and-conquer and ambush would have made an assassination attempt entirely feasible. Together, the two of us could have taken on even a 2-star Transcendent. But Serengeti was not here. Killing Master alone would not be easy.
I shook my head. That did not mean there was no way at all.
If I feed it the materials and forge the Throne of Radiant Light, that would work.
I had options. This was an auction selling premium goods, and I had more than enough capital to buy whatever materials I needed.
In any case—
Master's presence means there may be still more Players here.
I did not believe those two were the whole of it. There were more. Players even other Players did not know about. Someone who had perfectly disguised themselves as a native of Pangenia would be hiding among us. Just as important as hunting Master down was identifying them — and keeping my own identity from being exposed.
"To our most distinguished guests, I present the first lot of the auction! The Race of Cold Fire! A child of the legendary people who once burned without end in the old North!"
The auctioneer in formal dress bowed as he made the introduction, and attendants brought forward a glass case. Inside, a child of androgynous features, blue fire burning for hair, sat hugging their knees. The child was covered in bruises, as if they had been beaten. Blood ran freely from their scalp. They had put the child up as merchandise and not even bothered to clean them.
I gave Hudson's back a light, unnoticed tap.
— Do not react. No matter what.
This was the Empire, and everyone gathered here took slavery as a matter of course. In Pangenia, slaves were more common than one might think. The only people who would pity a slave were Players — people from Earth.
Why put out a badly injured slave as the very first lot? The auctioneer's sharp eyes swept the hall — especially the section where the outsiders sat. Was the auctioneer himself a Player identifier?
"The opening bid is one million gold! We begin at one million gold. Bids will rise in increments of five hundred thousand. Distinguished guests wishing to bid, please open the fan provided to you in advance!"
The hall went quiet. A slave as the first lot. Legendary race or not, the child's condition was wretched. Feed them, house them, raise them — and there was no guarantee they would even be worth the cost.
"The Race of Cold Fire?"
"What legendary race? That's just trash."
"Weak body, and mute on top of it, isn't it?"
"I've never seen one survive more than a year after purchase."
No matter how much gold you threw around, without a discerning eye you were only inviting contempt. Contrary to the auctioneer's introduction, the reputation of the Race of Cold Fire was abysmal.
Then Hudson opened his fan for the first time.
"Guest number fifty-five! One million gold bid!"
Fifty-five was the number assigned to Hudson. Buying out of pity? Not quite.