The first hammer strike had not yet fallen but the auction hall already felt like a battlefield.
"550,000…"
"600,000…"
"630,000…"
"650,000…"
Each bid rose like a drawn blade. It was very sharp and no one dared to interrupt.
The auctioneer's smile had long since stiffened. His sweat gathered beneath his collar despite the cooling enchantments that were carved into the walls.
What had begun as a rare treasure auction had transformed into a duel of the pride between the two noble bloodlines. No one dared to breathe too loudly since anything that could disturb the flow would be surely condemned.
Baston stood among the common guests, outwardly calming down and inwardly calculating. The higher the number, the more dazzling the profit. However, the profit that was born from the nobles was never simple.
The nobles did not merely buy since they competed just to show their pride. They marked their territory and they remembered the insults. Around him, the whispers spread like a wildfire.
"Who do you think will win?"
"I don't know... Both of them are terrifying..."
"I've heard of them… The Versance family controls one of the strongest ice bloodlines in the kingdom."
"I also remember the Herbiens since they controls the flare lineage. Their flames are said to burn even when it's underwater."
"Ice and flare in one hall… This won't end peacefully."
"Relax… The auction house won't offend either side. They'll sell at a fixed price and compensate the loser quietly."
"Exactly… No one here wants a trouble anyway…"
Baston's brow creased toward the statement of fixed price.
In the end, the moment the bid grew too dangerous, the auction would artificially halt it just to preserve the political neutrality.
If that happened, his earnings would be strangled by such diplomacy. He had chosen this auction precisely because the emotion inflated their value. If such emotion was suppressed for the safety, he would lose the advantage.
Rembrant stood a few paces away.
His merchant instincts were equally tense. He had heard the whispers too and his eyes flicked toward the VIP balconies above.
The auction house was backed by the nobility but compared to the bloodlines that were currently competing, they were small fish.
If they were forced to choose between the profit and the political survival, the house would choose the survival. After all, everyone still wanted to live. In the meantime, the bids surged higher.
"800,000…"
"850,000…"
"900,000…"
A murmur rippled through the hall, wondering how much expensive this one final item would be. With such numbers, the ice bead wasn't worth it anymore since it already became a burden. Truthfully, this was the price for the pride.
"930,000…"
The final voice came from the male VIP chamber. The silence soon followed and the female bidder did not respond immediately. The hall seemed suspended in such anxiety. At last, her voice drifted down and it was cool and sharp.
"If you want it that badly, take it... I wonder if you truly possess the funds to pay."
A low chuckle answered her, "It's such an amusing concern from you. However, since the bead is useless to me, I shall graciously allow you to claim it instead."
"You call that gracious? I call it cowardice… Your flare bloodline must be ashamed."
"Such rigid ice makes the minds also rigid as well. I suppose thinking flexibly is beyond your ability."
"What did you say?"
"Perhaps, we should settle this properly."
The auctioneer cleared his throat nervously, "Honored guests, perhaps we…"
"NO!"
Both of the nobles answered in unison and the auctioneer could only retreat.
Baston's fingers tightened at his side. At that exact moment, a faint tremor pulsed against his chest. It was a sign from the old book.
He shifted subtly, ensuring no eyes that lingered on him before slipping his hand inside his coat. He opened it by a sliver and the ink shimmered into the existence.
"Stop the argument between two noble families in the auction venue…"
He stared stupidly, thinking it was just a joke. Just a mere thought of stopping them was deemed of the impossible for him. There were two high-bloodline nobles that were fueled by their pride, standing atop nearly a million-pound bid.
What authority did he have?
For a brief second, such doubt flickered through him. He was not inside the academy corridor where the status could be bent with several clever words.
These were the people of greater bloodlines. Their names alone carried the weight that was enough to crush the merchants and the minor nobles without effort.
If either of them turned their attention toward him, even by the accident, he would not survive the consequences.
His position here was fragile. He was just a guest, a seller, and a nobody in the borrowed influence. And yet, the old book did not hesitate. It never cared about the feasibility since it cared about his performance.
Baston inhaled slowly.
The authority did not always come from the rank. Sometimes, it came from the control of the stage. And right now, the stage was unstable. He read the quest again and he tried to scrutinize each word from the book.
The quest said to stop them and the quest said in the auction venue.
His gaze sharpened since it did not require the permanent reconciliation. At the outside, they could duel, feud, and burn the cities if they wished. But within this hall, the conflict had to end.
The bidding war abruptly collapsed as both of the nobles emerged from their VIP compartments.
The gasps rippled and the woman descended first.
As soon as the woman showed herself, many nobles and merchants already knew her name.
Claire Versance, deemed as the controller of the ice element. Her beauty was sharp and refined like the frost-edged glass.
The silver-blue gown that she wore shimmered faintly beneath the chandelier light, hugging her graceful figure with deliberate elegance.
The curve of her chest was full and striking, a natural asset that drew the eyes of many men yet none dared to stare for too long. They knew such temptation could kill them.
She carried herself with such composed dignity and even her sensuality felt distant plus untouchable as though she wad wrapped in the frost. Her eyes were cold, resting upon her opponent with the quiet dominance.
At the moments later, the man stepped forward.
Teres Herbiens, deemed as the controller of the flare element. The confidence radiated from him like the heat from the molten steel.
His crimson-trimmed coat flickered faintly at the edges and his subtle currents of the flare mana were humming along the seams as if even the fabric acknowledged his lineage.
His physique was tall and well-proportioned with broad shoulders that were stretching the tailored coat with effortless strength. There was a raw vitality in him, the kind that drew attention without the invitation.
They stood across from one another near the podium. The conflict in the air made everyone did not dare to complain.
"Claire…" Teres said evenly, "Will you truly escalate this in front of the commoners?"
"I merely expose your hypocrisy," she replied, "You overbid then retreat."
"Better retreat than be frozen by such arrogance."
"You are all blaze and have no control."
The pressure began to rise and the mana currents twisted invisibly. Even those without the magical sensitivity felt the temperature fluctuate. The hot and cold were colliding.
The venue's protective arrays flickered to life automatically. If they unleashed their full magic here, the collateral damage would be unavoidable.
The words of quest pulsed in Baston's awareness.
He exhaled slowly since the direct mediation was a suicide and his provocation would be reckless. He needed disruption. It must be abrupt, unpredictable, and plausible. His mind quickly sharpened into the stillness before he acted.
No one noticed the subtle flick of his fingers.
Behind the heavy velvet curtain near the podium, a man stepped out. He was tall and lean, dressed in an impeccably tailored black tailcoat that was accented with deep burgundy lining.
A silver pocket watch chain glinted across his vest and the polished shoes were clicking softly against the floor.
Everything about his attire spoke of the refinement of wealth, etiquette, and aristocratic taste. Yet, his face was concealed behind a porcelain clown mask.
The mask bore an exaggerated painted smile. It curved too wide to be natural while its hollow eyes were dark and unreadable. The contrast was unsettling.
He moved with the grace of a noble gentleman. His posture was straight along with measured steps while his one gloved hand was resting lightly behind his back.
By then, he tilted his head. A soft chuckle escaped him, refined in tone yet it was brimming with lunacy beneath the surface. He walked casually toward the ice bead as if he was attending a private exhibition rather than intruding upon a high-stakes auction.
"Why is everyone staring?" the man laughed lightly, "Continue your noble squabble since I'll simply take this."
He picked up the bead and the hall froze upon the intruder.
"Who are you?" Claire and Teres demanded simultaneously.
The man tipped an imaginary hat, "Call me… Joker…"
Without hesitation, both of them launched their attacks.
A surge of flare exploded forward and a shard of compressed ice shot like a spear. But in that split second, Joker vanished.
The spells collided with the podium instead. The wood shattered and the glass burst. A shockwave rolled outward, making the screams erupted. The chaos soon swallowed the hall.
"Run!"
"Get out!"
"Don't push me!"
The crowd surged toward the exits in blind panic.
Claire and Teres exchanged one look before they instantly shifted from the rivalry to the cooperation. They barked their orders to their entourages. Several people leapt forward, erecting the layered barrier spells.
Teres roared and his voice was amplified by mana, "SILENCE!"
The sound slammed through the hall like a physical force. Many people staggered of facing such hidden force. Even Baston had to crouch briefly, concealing a satisfied glint. Claire then stepped forward calmly.
"Do not rush outside!" she commanded clearly, "If this is a trap, fleeing blindly could trigger a greater danger. Just stay within the protection barrier."
Her subordinates formed a defensive dome. The panicked crowd hesitated but they then complied. The order returned quickly even though it was tenuous.
Baston smiled faintly since she had done half of his work for him. He extended a thread of control before Joker reappeared again. This time, he was above the chandelier support beam.
"Very clever…" Joker said lazily "I was hoping you'd scatter. I will be happy to imagine the spectacle once your bodies detonated outside the walls."
A ripple of horror swept through the guests, "Explosions?"
Joker chuckled darkly, "Yes… I prepared a little farewell outside since your panic makes such beautiful chaos."
Now, the fear shifted its direction. It was not toward each other but toward him. Claire's eyes narrowed and Teres' flare intensified.
"Seize him!" Teres barked.
Joker flickered again, disappearing before the spells landed.
The nobles were now united in purpose. The argument had vanished and the quest inside the old book pulsed once.
Baston felt a subtle warmth in his chest. He knew it was not complete yet, but at least, the situation had been stabilized. He stepped forward slightly, placing himself in front of Rembrant and Panto.
"Stay behind me…" he murmured.
Rembrant blinked, "Young master, that man…"
"Father…" Panto whispered urgently, "Baston is stronger than he looks."
Rembrant stared dumbfounded, "What?"
"In my class, he's unmatched…"
"Why didn't you say this sooner?"
"He dislikes such attention…"
Rembrant slowly turned his gaze toward Baston's back.
For the first time since they had met, the merchant no longer saw a clever young boy with unusual insight. He saw the composure and the stillness in the middle of chaos. That made the fat boy became bigger in his eyes.
Around them, the defensive barrier shimmered faintly. The people whispered nervously but no one dared to move without permission. The nobles were no longer arguing. Their hostility had been redirected and sharpened into the vigilance.
Baston remained motionless. His breathing was steady and his heartbeat was calm.
Inside his coat, the old book was warm and it was seemingly satisfied of the performance. He did not smile toward the result and he simply observed the next act.
Claire and Teres now stood several paces apart. Their eyes scanned the hall with identical caution. The ice and flare were now aligned against a common threat exactly as intended.
Baston lowered his gaze slightly, hiding the faint glimmer in his eyes.
Stopping the argument did not require his persuasion. It required the fear and it was not the fear of each other but the fear of something greater. Joker had served his role perfectly, and yet, there was a subtle shift in the air.
The nobles were not fools.
They would remember this humiliation. They would question how a masked lunatic infiltrated one of the most secure auction halls in the city. They would investigate and they would search for any blunder.
Baston understood that today's performance had consequences beyond the applause. The hall no longer felt like a battlefield.
It felt like a chessboard where several powerful pieces had just realized the game was bigger than they thought. For a fleeting moment, he wondered.
Had he just made enemies he did not yet see?
The thought did not frighten him. His fingers flexed slightly at his side before returning to the stillness. In the reflection of a broken glass panel near the ruined podium, he briefly saw himself.
He was small, unremarkable, and hidden among the merchants and the minor nobles. He was invisible just as he preferred.
Above, the chandelier chains swayed faintly, creaking in the aftermath of magic.
The room held its breath, suspended between the order and the uncertainty. At the center of that fragile equilibrium, two noble bloodlines unknowingly were pulled into a concealed drama.
Baston did not look at them again since he simply waited. Because sometimes, the most dangerous move was not the one that exploded.
It was the one where no one realized that they had already been fooled.