by David Petrie
“That’s better.” Dalliance smiled wide. “Okay we have one thousand, can I get two?”
Seven fell off her armrest again at the price.
“You know,” Farn started, feeling the urge to help the woman. It was clear that Seven had no idea what she was doing, no matter how much she tried to hide it. “For a low-level like yourself, that hatchet would be a huge help starting out. You won’t be able to deal much damage to anything for a while.”
“No.” Seven gave her a puzzled expression as she hid behind the professional demeanor that she seemed to be holding onto. “I don’t have a need for anything like that, and I’m strictly here for my house. I don’t think my lady would appreciate me purchasing items for myself with her money.”
“I guess that’s true.” Farn felt a stupid for suggesting it. Obviously that would be a misuse of funds.
“What about Lockheart? Would any of your members benefit from a possessed hatchet? I would think a few thousand dollars would be affordable for a house like yours.”
Farn glanced to Ginger, who hadn’t placed a bid.
“Sure, but we’re here for contracts only. Regular items won’t help us with what we have to do.”
“And what do you have to do? Maybe my house could help.”
Farn tightened her jaw at the question.
That was an awfully suspicious thing to ask. She was starting to wish Seven had taken a seat next to Ginger instead. The Coin was much better at dealing with other houses. All Farn was good for lately was killing things. She held up the Death Grip that encased her hand. The contract that had crippled her ability to protect others with its smaller than average barrier. Farn let out a sigh as she realized Seven was still expecting an answer.
“Oh, ah, no. We wouldn’t want to drag you or your house into our fight.”
“Of course,” Seven shied away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t pry. Forgot that houses don’t always get along. I’m still learning the rules of diplomacy it seems.”
“It’s okay. We won’t start trouble with other houses as long as they don’t make trouble for us.” Farn eyed the woman, wondering if she would take her words as a reassurance or as a warning.
Seven simply nodded and turned back to the stage just as Dalliance called for final bids on the hatchet.
“Okay, we have fourteen thousand going once. Going twice, and sold, to Lord Tusker of House Boar.”
The large burly man pumped his fist in victory.
“Congratulations, you may claim your new item when this round of bidding is over and we’ve transferred your funds.” Dalliance placed the hatchet back on the table and tapped a few commands on his stat-sleeve, probably to abandon it so that it would stop returning to his hand. A second later, he spun back around, dangling a heart-shaped pendant from his hand. Silver filigree covered its surface.
“Our next item has an air of mystery about it. Its description simply names it as a Royal Locket and it grants the wearer a bonus to health equal to two percent of the player whose image is placed inside.”
Again, no one raised their number tiles to bid. Obviously, plus two percent health of another player wasn’t much to make note of. Even a high-level player would only grant an extra couple hundred HP at most.
Although, after considering the possibilities, Farn couldn’t help but think how helpful it would be for Kira. Sure, Echo couldn’t be damaged, but Kira as she was would have benefited from it significantly. If they placed a photo of Farn inside it… she tapped the Celtic knot on the underside of her wrist to call up her stat-sleeve and did the math.
Her current health read 5888 HP out of 5888 HP.
Two percent of that would still be over twice the fifty hit points that Kira has. That would bring her up to 167.
It wasn’t much, but it was plenty to save Kira from being killed by a random fall or accident. Plus, the locket was cute. Maybe it would make a good present for her when they got her back from Nix. Farn glanced to Ginger, debating on if she should speak up.
That was when Dalliance pushed her over the edge.
“No bids?” He dropped the locket into his other hand, letting its long silver chain coil around it. “I should mention that it was dropped by the Ghost of Magnus Alderth, in the crypt beneath Alderth Castle in the Fallen City of Rend.”
Farn immediately sat up straight at the mention of Kira’s favorite dungeon. The dungeon that they had somehow named as House Lockheart’s home as part of an ongoing quest. She reached across Max and swatted Ginger in the shoulder.
“We’re getting that.”
“Hey, hands to yourself.” The Coin swatted her right back as Max struggled not to get hit in the crossfire.
“I’m serious, that will be a perfect present for Kira when…” Farn trailed off, seeing the pity in Ginger’s eyes.
“I know.” The Coin placed a hand on top of Farn’s. “But we can’t afford to spend our money frivolously. We may need it later.”
Farn’s vision blurred as tears began to well up, catching her off guard and threatening to break through the dam that she’d held in place for months. She nodded. Ginger was right, buying presents for Kira wasn’t going to help them find her. It hurt to let the item go, but she settled back into her seat nonetheless, wiping away a tear that nearly escaped.
Seven averted her eyes, clearly trying not to let on that she’d noticed. The shocked expression on her face said otherwise, like she couldn’t understand how anyone could be so emotionally invested in a game.
“We have one thousand.” Dalliance pointed to a bidder. “I knew we would have some collectors here. Now can I get two?”
Another bid came in, stabbing Farn in the chest like an ice pick. Then another. She glanced to Ginger who just sat with her arms crossed. Fortunately, the bidding only made it to four thousand before the audience’s interest waned.
“Okay, we have four going once.” Dalliance swung the pendant like a pendulum. “Going twice, and sol–” He stopped mid-word and thrust his finger out at the audience. “We have five thousand. Knew you couldn’t resist, milady.”
Farn’s head jerked to the side, following the line of his finger to where Ginger sat holding up her bidding tile. The Coin gave Farn a warm smile and shook her head.
“You’re right, Kira would love it. And we have plenty of money.”
Farn blinked away a tear, and mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to the Coin.
“And sold, for five thousand.” Dalliance swung the pendant in a circle before tossing it up and catching it his other hand. “Congratulations, Lady Ginger. I’m glad this item will be returning home to those loyal to Rend. There’s something fitting about that.” He placed the locket back on the table before hefting a large hammer out from under the table. Its surface shone with a mirror-like finish.
“Next, we have Hard Times.” Dalliance raised the weapon and slammed it into the ground, causing the entire hammer to ripple as if made of liquid. “If you can’t tell, this item is made of mercury, held in solid form by the same enchantment that maintains the plates of hard that most of you use as currency. So essentially, it’s worth about twenty thousand if you can reforge it. Or, if you’re a Rage class, you can just hit things with it. That works too. Let’s start the bidding at fifteen thousand considering its raw value.”
Farn shook her head at Dartmouth as he and Tusker got into a bidding war that sent the item’s price up above its value. Eventually Dartmouth took the prize, though Farn wasn’t sure what he would do with it since he wasn’t a class that could use it.
Next up was the pelt of a chimera, which seemed to fade from one color to another with a stripe of scales passing through the middle. Larkin seemed interested, though he refrained from bidding.
Farn closed her eyes and put her head back while the rest of the bidding took place, finding the remaining items pretty useless. Mostly they were a bunch of armor sets and weapons. Her head finally shot back up when Dalliance called one of the auction’s guards up on stage.
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��Ah yes, thank you, my good sir. I needed a Shield class to help demonstrate this one.” He held up a heavy brass gauntlet to the guard. The guard wasted no time in pulling off his gauntlet and slipping the new one on.
“Perfect.” Dalliance held both hands out to the guard as if presenting him to the audience. “I give you The Tower!”
The man readied the gauntlet as the whole wrist snapped open to reveal one of the largest barrier generators that Farn had ever seen. Energy crackled as the shield pulsed to life, covering the guard from head to toe. Its curved plane of light didn’t just protect his entire body, but also provided enough cover for a player or two to hide behind him.
Farn couldn’t help but lean forward in her seat.
“That’s right.” Dalliance danced around the guard. “The Tower projects one of the largest barriers in Noctem. Just imagine slamming down this bad boy like a human fortress in the middle of battle while a Fury, Leaf, or mage unleashed hell from the safety behind you. Even Nightmares will tremble before you.”
For an instant, Farn’s heart skipped a beat. Then it sank back down. She couldn’t use a gauntlet like that. The Death Grip would only corrupt it anyway. She clenched her clawed fist and cursed the contract item again, which had become a regular occurrence.
Technically, the Death Grip wasn’t a gauntlet. Instead, it was more of a permanent status effect that altered the stats and abilities of whatever gauntlet she equipped. It didn’t matter that her current gauntlet, the White Rose, was listed on her equipment list. Even with something as powerful as The Tower on stage, the Death Grip wasn’t going anywhere. It had even turned her white armor and cape an ashen black, making her look like some kind of death knight.
Farn crossed her arms and ground her teeth until Dalliance called the bidding on the item final. She watched as he reclaimed the tower gauntlet from the guard and placed it back on the table with an air of respect. As soon as he was done, he snatched up a small round object.
“Last but not least.” Dalliance tossed the oblong shape in the air, catching it and letting it roll down his arm and across his shoulders to his other hand. He stomped one foot as he thrust it out toward the audience. “I present to you, an egg.”
Farn squinted at the item; its surface was speckled with dark green scales, mixed with bright orange and red patches. There was something familiar about the colors.
“But this is not just any ordinary egg.” Dalliance waggled one finger in the air. “No, this is a scalefang egg, dropped during the Culling event that takes place in Hunter’s Canyon.”
Max scoffed, drawing Farn’s attention. “I hate those things.”
“I’m not a fan either.” Farn couldn’t help but remember all the times she had fought her way through the Culling while farming with Kira. It had always been the best place to get materials for the bone charms that the fairy had relied on to avoid being killed. The scalefangs were over-muscled reptiles that always reminded Farn of a cross between a large dog and a dinosaur. Though the mane of feathers that surrounded their neck was always pretty to look at. Well, provided they weren’t trying to eat you.
“Now with this egg, a player can spawn a loyal pet monster, making it the perfect gift for that special Whip class player in your life.” Dalliance held the egg to his ear and tapped on its surface. “How you doing in there?”
At this point the audience had grown accustomed to his way of presenting, waiting patiently for him to reveal what made the egg special. He didn’t disappoint.
“I should mention that this egg in particular was dropped by the boss of the Culling, the ferocious and brutal One-Eye. That’s right, this isn’t just a scalefang egg, but a dire scalefang egg. It will take some time to reach its full size, but once it does, well, just imagine the possibilities.”
“Who knew One-Eye was female?” Max cringed. “Now I feel kinda bad for killing her so many times.”
Suddenly, Dalliance pointed a finger toward Farn. “And we have a bid already. How ‘bout we call it a thousand?”
She turned to her side, finding Seven with her number tile raised high. The low-level player looked like a kid in school desperately trying to get the teacher’s attention to remind them that they forgot to assign homework.
“I thought you weren’t bidding?”
“I wasn’t, but this isn’t for me.” Seven lowered her hand only to throw it back up again to beat someone else’s bid. “The Lady of my house is a Whip class. Her current pet is quite small, and a bit annoying, so she might want something bigger for protection. I know I would.”
Farn’s eyes widened at the thought of a player commanding a beast the size of the boss that had dropped it. Maybe it would be a good idea to play nice with Seven, considering her employer might become a force to be reckoned with.
The bidding exchanged for a minute or so, but when Dalliance called the sale final, Seven fell back into her seat looking pretty pleased with herself. She was now the proud owner of a dire scalefang egg. The satisfied grin on her face made Farn want to celebrate with her.
Unfortunately, the celebration was short-lived.
A distant shout drew Farn’s attention to the back of the theater just as another came from backstage. Suddenly, one of the auction guards appeared in one of the box seats above. He released a gurgled shout as several arrows slammed into his back, sending him over the edge. The guard screamed as he plummeted to the floor, crashing into the theater’s seats below.
Farn reached for her sword as players appeared in the box seats, one after another. More poured into the room from the doors in the back. They outnumbered the auction’s attendees and guards at least two to one. Max drew his pistols beside her.
They were surrounded.
That was when Tusker, Lord of House Boar stood and turned on his fellow bidders. He gestured to the intruders above who unfurled a banner on either side of the Theater, each bearing the crest of his house.
Tusker drew his weapon and donned a crooked grin.
“It’s about damn time.”
Chapter Twelve
“Kill them all!” Lord Tusker swept his sword in front of him as the theater flooded with chaos.
Larkin remained seated, ignoring the man and tapping one finger on his armrest.
“This was… unexpected.”
All around him players leaped into action, dozens of duels breaking out all at once. Clearly it was a bad idea to bring all of Noctem’s ruling houses together, after all. Who could resist trying to wipe them out in one fell swoop?
Apparently not Tusker. Larkin rolled his eyes.
There was nothing productive about what was happening. It wasn’t even all that interesting, just another power play like what Berwyn had attempted six months ago.
The madness continued regardless, Tusker’s Boars charging in with wild abandon. Guards fell one after another, proving to be no match for the attacking house. It was to be expected; they were only there to earn a bit of money. They weren’t security professionals.
Suddenly, a pair of arrows hit the chair beside Larkin as a third slammed into his shoulder. He calmly checked his health, noting a five percent loss.
“Ah, good to see the new cape’s defenses are stable.” He pulled the arrow out and examined the fabric he had draped around him. “I was a little worried that the piercing resistance wouldn’t take.”
He retrieved his player journal and scratched in some notes about the experimental item he wore.
Clients will pay well for something of this caliber. Not to mention how well it would complement some armor types. The cape didn’t actually match well with the vest and slacks that Larkin wore underneath, but it did serve to keep his new assistant hidden. He tapped on the lantern that hung from a hook on his belt, debating if he should use it.
That was when a noise pulled him out of his thoughts, the sound of a theater seat creaking behind him.
Larkin let out a sigh and spun just as a dagger came down. He ducked behind his journal, the weapon’s tip diggi
ng into the leather-bound cover. He fell back against the seat in front of his row with his legs flailing in the air for footing.
His attacker was a Coin with a pair of tall fox ears pinned back in aggression. The Boar’s crest adorned her cloak. She bared her teeth as she withdrew her dagger for another strike. Just then, a guard, thrown from the balcony, landed a few rows behind. The Coin glanced back at the ruckus, taking her eyes off Larkin for an instant. It was all he needed.
I suppose it’s time I helped out.
He drew his crafting shears from the sheath at his back and plunged them into her chest. Her attention whipped back to him, a surprised gasp erupting from her mouth. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting him to attack with something so mundane. Sure, the pair of crafting shears were a bit longer and ornate than most, but still, they weren’t a weapon.
Understanding washed over her face as her eyes fell to the class emblem on his hand.
“Sorry.” Larkin gave her a wink. “You just got unlucky.”
Of course, it didn’t matter that his shears weren’t classified as a weapon. Larkin was a Rage, which could apply their damage bonus to anything. Essentially, the whole world was his weapon. His shears were just convenient, and considering that his level had reached Noctem’s current level cap of 175, the Coin had gotten unlucky indeed.
From where he lay draped over a chair, Larkin let go of his shears and kicked the crafting tool deeper into her chest. She staggered as he righted himself, taking a moment to adjust his cape so that it sat on his shoulders in a way that flattered his slender frame. The Coin’s body began to shimmer, prompting Larkin to pull his shears from her corpse before it burst into sparkling particles.
Larkin took a breath. His battle wasn’t over.
Before the Coin’s body could dissipate, the cloud of shimmering flakes was cleaved in two by a rusty claymore sweeping through the air to claim him. An enormous woman followed, the ram-like horns of a faunus bracketing her face. The glowing particles remaining from the Coin’s body swirled around her form as she lunged over a row of chairs.