Bidding and World Development

The food arrived, steaming and fragrant. Cane noted three distinct types of crustaceans, each served on a bed of herbs. He grabbed a hinged utensil designed to crack open their shells and gestured toward a small bowl of pale cream.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It's butter mixed with a local vegetable called rulan," Ashanti replied. "You've probably seen the trees in the countryside—short, with silver-colored leaves."

Cane dipped his fork into the mixture, tasting it. Buttery, with texture and a lingering spice. "It's good…"

Meya leaned in, voice casual. "So… Cane… I heard you placed something for sale."

He didn't look up. "Just a bracer. Shaped like a red serpent."

While he spoke, the balcony filled around them—nobles, guild leaders, even a few foreign dignitaries filtering in. Cane watched the rising crowd with quiet surprise. Word had clearly spread.

On stage, the MC appeared in formal white, flanked by his assistant in an elegant sky-blue gown.

"Destiny…" the MC began, his tone theatrical. "It's an odd thing, isn't it?"

A cart rolled out, draped in black velvet.

"You may have seen the glass case outside—guarded by two of the King's Guard. Looks like an arrow, doesn't it?"

He paced slowly, letting the crowd simmer. "Made by a young man. An artificer. One out of legends. Perhaps sent here to… Let's just say it—put the Zuni Empire down."

The crowd erupted. Feet stomped. Hands clapped. The MC paused with a faint smile, as if savoring applause too easily earned.

"Tyrant Bex, Commander of the Black Legion—slain by his creation. Legion Commander Terror? Defeated by his team. The naval war? Over, the moment he turned his gaze toward the sea."

Cane chewed slowly, frowning. "Spreading it a bit thick."

Meya smirked. "Name one thing he said that wasn't true."

"And now—perhaps you've heard of the dresses. Santium. Silk, interwoven with platinum, infused with his infamous mythic Glacial Ice rune. I could go on. Even the bards don't know the full story…"

He stopped center-stage and gripped the velvet cloth.

"But let me show you the latest."

With a practiced tug, he unveiled the red serpent bracer. It sat coiled on a stand shaped like an arm. Green eyes glinted. Silver teeth gleamed. The lighting had been dimmed deliberately, allowing the bracer's deep red alloy to glow faintly under the soft stage lights.

"No gemstones," the MC said. "The eyes—copper patina. The teeth—platinum. The body—an alloy of Nickel and Zirconium. We call it Nonium. After rigorous testing, this bracer has been rated Grade Six for defensive shielding."

A hush spread through the room.

Then a ripple of awe as the assistant slipped the serpent bracer onto her forearm. Its surface shimmered faintly, coiling as if alive.

"Craftsmanship beyond what even the experts can reproduce," the MC continued, "has earned this piece a Radiant aesthetic rating. The bidding will begin at ten thousand platinum."

Cane blinked. Sophie's hand had tightened around his arm.

"Twenty thousand platinum," a smooth, feminine voice rang out.

All eyes turned.

An elven woman stepped forward from a private box, her beauty unmistakably otherworldly—pointed ears, flowing hair like dusk and silver.

"Ahh… Commander Moriwynn of the Sunset Court." The MC smiled, bowing slightly. "The bid stands at twenty thousand platinum."

"Twenty-five thousand platinum," Meya Rowe said, raising her paddle with casual confidence.

"First Knight Rowe," the MC grinned. "It seems heroes are everywhere today. The bid stands at twenty-five thousand platinum."

He glanced toward the noble balconies. The real money hadn't even moved yet.

"What are you doing?" Cane hissed, incredulous. "That took me less than an hour to make."

Meya shrugged. "I want it."

"I'll make one for you. At cost."

Meya beamed and lowered her paddle. "Now that's generosity."

"Forty thousand platinum!" boomed a voice from across the room. A broad-shouldered man with sun-dark skin and a retinue of stunning companions shouted his bid, clearly enjoying the attention.

Meya sighed and leaned back, relenting. "Fine. I'll take the custom job."

Moriwynn didn't bid again. Her opening offer had been a test—curiosity more than intent. But now her attention had sharpened. She watched Cane quietly, her cool blue eyes taking in not just him, but the way Sophie leaned into him, the way Meya smiled too easily, and the way Nina's little sister couldn't hide her awe.

He was guarded, she mused. Too aware to be young. But he'd bonded with Elohan of all people. There must be something more.

She leaned back in her seat and tapped the psi-comm rune behind her ear—a proprietary design, far beyond market tech. It allowed her to speak with anyone in her command, up to fifty miles away.

Mori: Labrynth, are you there?

Labrynth: Yes, Commander. How may I assist?

Mori: Cane Ironheart. Thoughts?

Labrynth: Young. Formidable. Handsome. We'd have had problems if he'd been born in the Zuni Empire.

Mori: Handsome? Really? Anything useful?

Labrynth: Humble origins. Loyalty matters to him. Friendship, too. He inspires those around him.

Moriwynn ended the connection without replying, fingers still resting lightly on her rune.

We're arrogant, she thought. It's bred into us—like old wine, too strong and too proud. She knew that arrogance had closed doors, burned bridges, and even played a role in Telamon sealing the world gate.

The current me isn't capable of building a friendship with someone like Cane. But maybe I could become someone who is.

Back on stage, the bidding peaked and settled.

"Sixty-seven thousand platinum!" the MC shouted. "Sold—to the chieftain of Kiranvale!"

Cane let out a low whistle. "That's... unexpected."

Ashanti, who'd been silently watching, received a quiet message from Nina through her rune.

She turned to Cane. "How would you like payment?"

Cane sipped his drink, still watching the stage. "Two thousand. The rest goes on my runic credit chit."

Ashanti blinked. "Just two?"

"Can't spend it all in one place," Cane said with a bright smile.

Sophie kissed his cheek suddenly. He jumped, blinking.

"Hey."

She smiled. "We going back now?"

Cane nodded. "Yeah. Let's head back." 

**

Clara's freckled face was wide with wonder. "That's the biggest rune I've ever seen."

Fergis glanced up, face slick with sweat, deadly serious. "Yeah. Secret rune. Taught to me by Nos."

"Crazy Nos?" Clara's eyes widened. "You might end up at the bottom of the ocean."

"Maybe," Fergis said with a shrug.

He kept going, carefully sketching out the final lines. The whole thing covered nearly five square meters, a twisting pattern of blue and silver that pulsed with fake complexity. Cane watched from the side, privately admiring the spectacle. It was, in truth, complete crap—a flashy rune designed to do exactly one thing: light up and look impressive. The real work would happen elsewhere. Only the two of them were in on the hoax.

Nearby, a dozen hired workers lounged beside crates of tools and carts piled high with materials. Cane peeked into his ringworld—his private spatial realm—and smiled. The living wood grove had flourished, time accelerated until the trees had grown to full height, casting rich mana into the air like mist. He'd made the adjustment while the space was empty.

Fergis caught his eye. A silent nod passed between them before Fergis clapped his hands.

"Alright! Time to get to work. Gather your things and step onto the rune. You'll be entering one of the Archmage's spatial constructs. You've been briefed: three months of labor, only a few minutes will pass here. Pay will reflect the full duration."

One by one, the workers stepped onto the glowing sigils. A flash of light—and they vanished, along with their supplies. Cane watched the timer, waited one minute, then brought them back.

The men returned changed—older, rougher around the edges. Some had beards now. A few wore their hair longer. But all of them were smiling.

Clara clapped once, barely restraining her awe. "They built something in the… you know where?" Her voice dropped to a whisper.

Cane nodded. "Take a look. I'll even out the time for you."

Dhalia nudged Sophie. "Let's go. Keep an eye on her."

Sophie smiled, kissed Cane on the cheek, and followed Clara in. "Back soon."

"Me too," Fergis said, tapping the fake rune with his boot. "Send me in."

Moments later, Clara stood in the ringworld, mouth agape. Towering trees of Living Wood stretched skyward, fifty or sixty feet tall, shimmering with ambient energy. She gasped. "Goodness… How many years have passed here? My element feels thick. Like I could punch a mountain."

Inside the new structure—an exact replica of the caretaker's cottage—

Fergis was already exploring. "Pantry's empty," he called. "We'll have to stock it."

Sophie and Dhalia moved from room to room, taking notes.

"Curtains, linens, throw rugs," Sophie murmured. "We'll make it cozy."

Back outside, Cane sat beside the fountain, gently stroking Pudding's fluffy head while Spud flopped beside him, panting.

Several minutes passed before everyone returned.

Cane stood and cleared his throat, face unusually somber. "I'm… really sorry, everyone."

Clara frowned. "Huh? What happened?"

"Time slipped," Cane said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was experimenting—something got skewed."

Fergis raised an eyebrow, sensing mischief. "How much time?"

Cane let out a long sigh. "Two years."

Clara's face lit up. "So I'm a third-year now? No more HOM?"

"Well… I am," Cane said, trying to suppress a grin. "You're all still first-years."

"What? Separated?" Clara gasped, scandalized. "I won't stand for it!"

Dhalia rolled her eyes. "You are so gullible."

"Huh?" Clara glanced around, then narrowed her eyes. "Teasing a ginger? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

Fergis burst out laughing. "Truth."