Chapter 17

By the time midday rolled around, I finally stepped out into the city, though I couldn't help but notice how sluggish everything seemed. Apparently, in the upper echelons of society, mornings were a thing to be avoided—nobles and the wealthy preferred to rise at a more leisurely pace. So here I was, standing in front of the familiar façade of the auction house, which had just opened for business. The marble columns gleamed in the sun, the entire building designed to project wealth and power. A fitting symbol for the games played within.

It was a place where fortunes were made and lost with a single gesture, and today, I intended to get a taste of that power for myself.

As I stepped inside, I was greeted by the same impeccably dressed woman I had encountered before. Her name—Leticia, as I recalled—seemed almost too elegant for the sharp mind that lurked behind her perfectly polished exterior. She was a fixture in this place, no doubt an expert in navigating the egos and expectations of the rich, someone who knew how to charm without ever truly revealing anything about herself.

"Ah, you're early, young lord," Leticia said with a smile, her voice smooth, almost teasing. It was the kind of comment that could be interpreted as praise or a subtle jab, depending on how you wanted to take it.

I simply nodded, matching her neutral tone. "Sometimes, the early bird catches the most interesting worms."

Her smile widened ever so slightly, but there was no flicker of surprise in her eyes. Leticia was far too composed to be thrown off by anything I said. She gestured gracefully toward the back of the auction house, where the appraiser's chambers lay hidden behind heavy wooden doors. "Shall we, then?"

Without another word, I followed her through the grand halls, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. The atmosphere here was always thick with the weight of old money and the ambition of those seeking to gain more of it. Everything about this place felt carefully curated to remind you of its prestige—the scent of fine oils burning in delicate lamps, the muted colors of the tapestries that lined the walls, and the way even the light seemed to fall just so, casting a soft glow on everything it touched.

When we reached the appraiser's chamber, Leticia opened the door and stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Inside, the room was filled with displays of rare and valuable artifacts, each one presented with the care and reverence you'd expect in a temple of wealth. The appraiser himself, a gaunt man with sharp eyes and fingers that looked like they had never touched anything less valuable than gold, was already waiting.

"Good day, my lord," he said with a slight bow, his tone all business. "I understand you have something for us to assess?"

I nodded, reaching into my pouch with the same careful deliberation that had served me well in so many negotiations. Slowly, I pulled out the items I had been crafting since dawn, each one gleaming faintly with the runes I had meticulously etched into them. These were no ordinary trinkets—they were the result of long, precise work, and I had designed them with the specific intent of catching the attention of someone powerful.

The first piece I revealed was a small pendant, its surface etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly in the light. It looked unassuming at first glance, but anyone with even a basic understanding of enchantment would feel the energy humming beneath the surface—a protective charm, but one with layers of complexity that hinted at something far beyond the ordinary.

The appraiser's eyes widened slightly as I placed the pendant on the velvet cloth in front of him, his fingers hovering just above it as though he could sense the magic even without touching it. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. He finally reached out, gently lifting the pendant to examine it more closely, his gaze sharp and focused. "This is… quite remarkable. The level of precision in the runework is something we rarely see."

I caught Leticia's gaze out of the corner of my eye. Her expression remained serene, but there was a flicker of something deeper—interest, perhaps even admiration. She was far too controlled to show anything overtly, but I could tell she recognized the value of what I had brought.

"Indeed," she said, her voice as smooth as ever. "Pieces of this quality are rare in this city, especially from someone so… new to our circles."

I smiled slightly, the kind of smile that said I knew exactly what I was doing. "I'm here to make waves, not ripples. And if I'm going to do business with your house, I want to make sure we both understand that."

Leticia's eyes gleamed, but her smile didn't falter. "We do appreciate ambition, young lord. Especially when it comes with such promising craftsmanship."

The appraiser carefully placed the pendant back on the cloth, his expression one of approval. "This will certainly fetch a high price at auction," he said, his voice almost reverent. "And I believe we can expect some of our more… discerning clients to take a keen interest in it."

I nodded, satisfied. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then. But I'm also in need of something else—a place to work. Somewhere suited to the level of craftsmanship you've just seen. Somewhere… noble."

Leticia's smile deepened, and for the first time, I saw a glint of something more personal in her gaze—like she was nurturing a potential prize. "We have just the thing," she said, her tone almost conspiratorial. Without another word, she glided toward the door, disappearing for a moment.

I took the opportunity to glance around the room, noting the carefully arranged treasures, each one meticulously placed to project wealth and prestige. This was where the city's elite came to make deals, to secure their power and status through possessions that spoke louder than words. And now, I was positioning myself to join their ranks.

When Leticia returned, she held a small, intricately carved token in her hand, its surface marked with delicate symbols that shimmered faintly in the light. She extended it toward me with a graceful flourish, her smile as sweet as it was calculated. "This is for special clients," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of the offer. "It will grant you access to an artisan's apartment just across the street—a place where those of noble standing can create without interruption."

I took the token, feeling the faint hum of magic within it as I turned it over in my hand. It was exactly what I needed—a private space, fully equipped and exclusive to the upper class. A perfect place to continue my work.

"This will do very well," I said, slipping the token into my pocket. "I have a feeling we'll be doing a lot of business together."

Leticia's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a successful deal. "We look forward to it," she replied, her voice as smooth as ever. "And of course, the auction will be held this evening. You're most welcome to attend."

"I wouldn't miss it," I said, offering a smile of my own.

As I turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel the subtle tension in the room—the sense that this was just the beginning of something much larger. Leticia and the appraiser both watched me go, their expressions carefully composed, but I knew they were thinking the same thing I was.

This city thrived on power and ambition, and I had just made my first move.

The sun was still high in the sky as I stepped out of the auction house, the token warm in my pocket. I glanced across the street and saw the building Leticia had mentioned—a tall, elegant structure that gleamed in the daylight, its windows reflecting the bustling city below. It was the kind of place that spoke of privilege, where artisans worked in quiet luxury, far removed from the noise and chaos of the streets.

It was perfect.

I could already picture myself there, the hum of magic in the air as I worked on my next creation, something that would command even more attention than the pendant I'd just handed over. The thought brought a small, satisfied smile to my lips.

The auction tonight would be my debut, in a sense. A chance to see just how far I could push myself into this world of wealth and influence. But first, I had work to do.

I made my way across the street, my steps measured, controlled, as I approached the entrance of the building. The guards at the door barely spared me a glance as I held up the token, their eyes flicking to the small piece of carved wood before nodding in silent acknowledgment. They knew what the token meant—access, privilege, and most importantly, power.

As I entered the building, the air inside was cool and still, a stark contrast to the heat and noise of the city outside. The walls were lined with rich wood, and the floor beneath my feet was polished to a shine. It was quiet, almost eerily so, but that suited me just fine.

I followed the directions Leticia had given me, making my way to the artisan's apartment she had promised. When I reached the door, I could feel the magic woven into the wood—a subtle, protective enchantment that only those with the right token could bypass. I held the token to the door, and with a soft click, it swung open.

The apartment was everything I had hoped for. Spacious, well-lit, with a large workbench in the center of the room and shelves lining the walls, already stocked with tools and materials. There was a faint hum of magic in the air, the kind that spoke of ancient wards and protective spells woven into the very foundation of the building.

After settling into the workshop, I knew the real work was about to begin. The room itself was perfectly serviceable, well-equipped with finely crafted tools and enough space to create intricate runes or weapons, but I wasn't just looking for convenience or comfort. I needed absolute security. This was the kind of space that any curious or powerful person in the upper city would be tempted to investigate. And that wouldn't do—not when I had far too much at stake.

The walls, the floor, even the ceiling—they were all blank canvases to me, ready to be transformed. Every surface in the workshop was just waiting for my magic, waiting to become part of my layered defenses. There was a faint, residual magic lingering in the air, a standard enchantment to keep the place safe, but it was weak, perfunctory—a formality to appease any noble who rented this space. But I had no intention of relying on the standard protections. I was going to create something far beyond that.

I pulled my tools from my satchel. These weren't simple stones gathered from a brook like before—no, these were far more refined instruments. A set of chisels, each one made from enchanted metals, specifically designed for Runeweaving. Alongside them, a thin wand-like instrument for infusing the inscriptions with mana, much like a blacksmith would temper steel. Each tool had a precise purpose, and together, they would allow me to weave something far more complex than any outsider might expect.

I began with the door, the logical point of entry for anyone bold enough to try their luck. I pressed the tip of the chisel to the wooden frame, whispering an incantation under my breath as I carved the first rune—a bind rune, an old and reliable favorite. As the chisel bit into the wood, the familiar surge of mana flowed through me and into the rune itself. The symbol glowed faintly before settling into place, blending seamlessly with the grain of the wood. The door was now sealed, not just physically but magically as well. No key or spell would break it without triggering the defenses I was about to layer on top.

Next, I moved to the walls, slowly working my way around the room. I carved a series of ward runes into each corner, creating a network of detection spells. These runes would pulse with energy, sensitive to any magic that didn't belong to me. If someone attempted to scry or use any kind of surveillance spell, the wards would alert me instantly. But more than that, they'd also feed that energy back into my shield system, fortifying the room even further.

Each stroke of the chisel was deliberate, precise. Runeweaving wasn't just about power—it was about control, about channeling that power in exactly the right way. One wrong curve, one misstep in the pattern, and the entire structure could unravel. But for me, this was as natural as breathing. The sequences of geometric shapes and elemental symbols were like a language, and I was fluent. The runes spoke back to me, responding to the magic I fed them with a hum of satisfaction.

The ceiling was next, and this required a more intricate approach. I inscribed a complex shield rune in the center, surrounded by a series of compound runes designed to amplify its power. These would create an invisible barrier that stretched across the entire room. It was more than just a defense—it was an expulsion system. Anyone who tried to break through, either physically or magically, would be thrown back with enough force to make them regret it. And if they persisted, they'd find themselves caught in a web of retaliatory magic that would turn their own spells against them.

By the time I finished with the floor, the entire room was layered in protective runes. I could feel the magic pulsing beneath the surface, an invisible web of energy that wrapped around the workshop like a cocoon. To the untrained eye, the place looked no different than it had when I arrived—no glowing symbols, no overt signs of enchantment. But I knew better. This room was now a fortress, impenetrable to anyone who didn't know the key to my runes.

But there was still one final step. I walked over to the large wooden workbench that dominated the center of the room and placed my hands on its surface. I closed my eyes, focusing on the flow of mana within me, and began the final inscription. This was the master rune, a combination of elemental forces and geometric patterns that would tie the entire system together. It was a failsafe, designed to redirect any hostile magic back toward its caster. If someone tried to overpower my defenses with brute force, they'd find themselves on the receiving end of their own spell, with a little extra energy thrown in for good measure.

As I carved the last line of the master rune, I felt a surge of power ripple through the room. The shield activated, settling into place with a soft hum, and I couldn't help but smile. To anyone else, this workshop would seem unremarkable, but I had just turned it into a stronghold. I was untouchable here.

I took a step back, admiring the work. The runes, once glowing softly, had now faded into the surfaces, invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for them. But I could feel them, like the heartbeat of the room itself. The bind runes would hold the door and windows fast, while the ward runes would alert me to any intrusions. The shield rune created an impenetrable barrier, and the master rune would send any attackers reeling. This was no ordinary workspace. It was mine, built to my exact specifications.

The satisfaction of a job well done settled over me as I took a seat at the workbench. But I wasn't done yet. There was still the matter of checking the room for any surprises that might have been left behind by previous occupants or, worse, the owners of the building. I wasn't naive enough to think they hadn't considered keeping an eye on those they rented to.

I pulled out a small, finely crafted wand from my pouch and muttered a detection spell, sweeping it over the walls, floor, and ceiling. As I passed the wand over a small alcove in the corner of the room, I felt a faint pulse of energy. I narrowed my eyes. There, hidden behind a seemingly innocent wooden panel, was a surveillance rune. Cleverly hidden, but not clever enough.

With a flick of the wand and a few whispered words, I unraveled the surveillance spell, watching as its energy dissipated into the air like smoke. "Nice try," I muttered under my breath, returning the panel to its place as if nothing had happened.

Satisfied that the room was now fully under my control, I allowed myself a moment to relax. I leaned back in the chair, feeling the hum of the wards as they thrummed softly in the background. The magic was alive, intertwined with my own intent, and I could feel the room's defenses as clearly as I could feel my own heartbeat. Anyone foolish enough to try to breach them would regret it.

But even as I sat there, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done, I couldn't ignore the quiet tension that still lingered. Magic was powerful, but it wasn't infallible. There was always the chance that someone out there knew how to counter my runes—someone who was playing the same game I was, but at a higher level. The upper city was full of hidden dangers, and I wasn't naive enough to think I was the only one with secrets.

Still, I had done everything I could to tip the odds in my favor. The room was mine now, a fortress built with my own hands, and for the moment, I was safe.

I glanced at the tools laid out on the workbench, knowing that the real work was yet to come. But for now, I allowed myself a small smile. Let them try. I was ready for whatever came next.

The afternoon light streamed through the tall windows of the workshop, casting a golden hue over the tools and materials spread out before me. Time was running short before the evening's auction, but that didn't mean I couldn't make good use of the remaining hours. Crafting wasn't just a necessity for me—it was an art form, and today's focus had a special purpose.

On the workbench in front of me were delicate chains, small gems, and raw metals waiting to be transformed. I wasn't working on anything large or overly complicated today—just small trinkets, the kind of enchanted jewelry that noblewomen loved. Pendants, to be precise. But not ordinary ones. No, these were going to offer more than a pretty sparkle. They would carry powerful protection spells woven into their very structure, disguised beneath the beauty of polished silver and gold. After all, what better way to make connections in this world than through subtle gifts that were both functional and charming?

I set to work with precision. Using the finest of my chisels, I began inscribing delicate runes onto the backs of each pendant. The runes were protective, designed to shield the wearer from harm—both physical and magical. The elegance was in their subtlety. To an untrained eye, the designs would look like nothing more than decorative flourishes, but I knew better. Each curve, each line, was a carefully calculated defense mechanism, infused with just the right amount of mana to be powerful but not overwhelming. They had to be discreet, after all. Nobles, especially the women of this city, valued subtlety in their magic as much as they valued it in their politics.

The pendants were primarily designed for women, though I had a few variations in mind that could appeal to anyone. I wasn't crafting these for battle-hardened warriors; these were for those who navigated the treacherous waters of high society. They would protect their wearers from the kinds of dangers that lurked behind well-manicured smiles and polite conversations—jealous rivals, subtle curses, maybe even the odd assassin's blade.

As I worked, I couldn't help but reflect on the importance of gifting in a place like this. The psychology of it all fascinated me. A well-timed gift could open doors that remained otherwise closed, and the act of giving something of value—something personal—was a form of social currency. It created a bond, however slight, between the giver and the recipient. In a city like this, where alliances were as fragile as the finest porcelain, those bonds could be the difference between rising in status and being forgotten.

And, of course, there was the simple truth that women loved gifts. It wasn't just about the object itself; it was about the thought behind it, the gesture. A beautiful, enchanted pendant given at the right moment could say so much more than words ever could. It suggested care, attention to detail, and, most importantly, the kind of charm that turned heads. I intended to be that charm—just enough to be noticed, just enough to make them remember my name.

As I crafted, I thought about the auction later that evening. People would be watching. Rumors were already starting to spread about me, the young man who had shown up seemingly from nowhere, with connections and skills that people were beginning to whisper about. But that was precisely the plan. I needed to be seen, to have people talk. And gifting these pendants, perhaps to a select few women at the auction, would only help build that reputation. It was all part of the game, after all.

I finished the first pendant, a slender silver chain with a small sapphire pendant, the protection rune carefully etched into the back. I held it up to the light, watching as the gem caught the afternoon sun. The mana within it pulsed softly, a quiet hum that only I could feel. Perfect.

I crafted a few more in quick succession—one with an emerald, another with a delicate pearl, each one unique, each one carrying its own subtle enchantment. The variations in gems and metals were important. They had to appeal to different tastes, different personalities. I had already started thinking about which women might receive them. A gesture of interest here, a calculated flirtation there. These weren't just gifts—they were investments. Investments in relationships that could benefit me later on.

As the afternoon wore on, the room filled with the soft clinking of tools and the faint hum of magic. The air was thick with mana as I infused each pendant with a little more power, making sure the enchantments were stable, yet flexible. They needed to last but also adapt to the wearer. I took a deep breath, satisfied with my work. I had crafted more than enough for tonight's event.

As the evening approached, I left the workshop behind and made my way back to the auction house. I was dressed for the occasion—simple, but elegant. Not too flashy, but refined enough to make a statement. The streets were quieter now, the fading light casting long shadows across the cobblestones. As I approached the auction house, I could already see the beginnings of the night's crowd forming—wealthy men and women stepping out of carriages, their clothes shimmering in the fading sun, their faces already masked in polite smiles.

I knew eyes would be on me tonight. That was part of the plan.

I stepped through the grand entrance, and as I did, I noticed the subtle shift in the air. Conversations paused, eyes glanced in my direction, whispers followed. I could practically hear the murmurs, the questions: Who is that? Where did he come from? The auction house was a place for those who had already made their mark in the world, not for newcomers. But here I was, walking in like I belonged.

Leticia was waiting for me just inside, her ever-perfect smile in place as she greeted me with a subtle nod. "Right on time, young lord," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with that same blend of charm and professionalism I had come to expect from her.

"Wouldn't miss it," I replied, offering her a smile of my own. She was as sharp as they came in this city, and I could tell she knew exactly what kind of game I was playing. But she wasn't about to interfere—if anything, I suspected she enjoyed watching it unfold.

"Shall we?" she gestured toward a set of stairs that led to the private booths overlooking the main auction floor. "Your booth is ready."

I followed her up the stairs, feeling the weight of curious gazes on my back as we ascended. The crowd below was already starting to fill in, the rich and powerful mingling, exchanging pleasantries and positioning themselves for the night's events. I caught snippets of conversation as I passed—small, hushed whispers, some of them about me.

"Is that him? The one they've been talking about?"

"Yes, I heard he's made quite the impression recently."

"Interesting… I wonder what his game is."

Good. Let them wonder.

We reached the private booth, and Leticia stepped aside, allowing me to enter. It was a small, comfortable space, furnished with plush chairs and a perfect view of the auction floor. A place where deals could be made quietly, away from the eyes of the crowd below.

"You've caused quite a stir," Leticia remarked, her tone light but edged with amusement.

"That was the idea," I replied, taking a seat and surveying the room. The auction house was filling up quickly now, and the energy in the air was palpable. This wasn't just about the items being sold—it was about power, influence, and reputation. Every move, every glance, every bid was part of a larger game.

"Rumors are already starting," Leticia continued, her smile widening slightly. "They're curious about you. You've done well to capture their attention."

"I plan on keeping it," I said, my voice steady. I reached into my pocket and fingered the pendants I had crafted earlier. "And perhaps tonight, a few of them will walk away with something to remember me by."

Leticia raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but too professional to pry. "I'm sure you'll make quite the impression."

I settled back into my seat, watching as the crowd continued to gather below. The auctioneer would start soon, and with it, the evening's events would truly begin. But for me, the real game had already started. I had planted the seeds, crafted the charms, and now it was time to see how they would grow.

The auction house was once again alive with its usual grandeur, a theater of wealth and power cloaked in refined elegance. The same grand columns, the same luxurious velvet curtains draping the walls, and the same lingering scent of incense meant to cover the undercurrents of greed and ambition. From my private booth, I could see the entire scene play out below me, a sea of the city's elite, dressed in their finest, eager to flaunt their riches and seize something new to remind themselves of their importance.

I hadn't expected much from the evening beyond what had become typical—bidding wars over ostentatious items, whispered deals, and the ever-present undercurrent of barely concealed rivalries. But as I settled into my chair, a glass of wine in hand, I was caught off guard when the first item up for sale was my own creation.

That certainly got my attention.

There, displayed under the flickering candlelight, was the pendant I had crafted with such precision earlier in the day. Its subtle elegance, the sapphire shimmering with the hidden power of the protection rune beneath, drew an immediate reaction from the crowd. I could feel the ripple of interest as the auctioneer, a portly man with a voice far too loud for this kind of gathering, extolled its virtues—though I doubted he truly understood the depth of the magic woven into it. To him, it was just a rare gem and a pretty trinket, something valuable for the right person's collection.

But the bidders knew better.

The price started high, and to my surprise, it kept climbing. Hands shot up across the room with such speed that even I had to smirk. They had no idea what kind of magic they were buying into, but the status of owning something so meticulously crafted was enough. As the numbers reached heights I hadn't anticipated, a wave of satisfaction rolled through me. These people—they didn't even know what they were getting, but they wanted it badly enough to fight for it. I'd played my cards right.

Eventually, the hammer fell, and the pendant was sold for far more than I had expected. I leaned back, sipping my wine with a touch of smugness. It was a small victory, but in this city, every victory counted.

Now that I had set the tone, I turned my attention to the rest of the auction. I wasn't just here to sell. I needed to observe. To understand what people were really after, what made their hearts race and their purses open. There was no better way to learn than to sit back and watch.

A stream of items followed—mostly flashy weapons. Blades with ornate handles, jewel-encrusted hilts, axes that gleamed with embedded magic, and even a few enchanted gauntlets. These were the kinds of things that drew attention for their sheer grandeur, not for their practicality. It was all about showmanship here, not subtlety. I couldn't help but think of how much better these weapons could be. Sure, they looked impressive, but their enchantments were basic—short-term, blunt instruments, designed more for intimidation than effectiveness. A well-placed rune could turn any one of these into something far deadlier.

I made a mental note to explore that angle. Power, after all, wasn't just in the strength of a weapon—it was in its subtlety. The right enchantment could make a blade do far more than cut through flesh.

And then there were the darker items. Artifacts imbued with mind magic—dangerous, banned, but clearly not forgotten in this world of opulence and power. I had heard whispers of such things, tools that could manipulate, control, even enslave minds. It was disturbing, but not entirely surprising. The wealthy here lived by different rules. The more powerful they became, the less they cared about those rules. These were the kinds of objects that should never be sold, yet here they were, paraded openly, with knowing smiles exchanged between the bidders. Power didn't just corrupt—it allowed people to believe they were invincible.

I watched with an uneasy fascination as the prices for these dark artifacts soared. People were willing to pay anything for control. For the ability to bend others to their will. And no one, not even the auctioneer, batted an eye.

But the night wasn't over yet.

The air in the room shifted as the auctioneer cleared his throat for the next round. I could sense a change in the crowd—a kind of collective tightening, as if they knew what was coming next was something different. The murmurs of conversation quieted, and all eyes turned toward the stage.

That's when I saw it—the disgusting part of the evening.

Slaves.

It wasn't a surprise, of course. The sale of people was just another way the powerful in this city demonstrated their dominance, their superiority. Still, as the first slave, a young man no older than twenty, was brought onto the stage, I found myself turning my gaze away. There was always a pang of guilt with this part of the evening. I told myself that it wasn't my place to interfere, that this was the way of things in this world, but the truth was more complicated. I could justify it all I wanted, but it never made the sight any easier.

A few more slaves were brought forward, each one sold quickly and efficiently, like livestock. The crowd was back to its usual bidding frenzy, though it made my skin crawl to hear them call out prices for human beings as if they were nothing more than objects to be possessed.

And then, something unexpected happened. A stir in the crowd. A ripple of energy that made the room hum with intensity.

The auctioneer's voice faltered for a moment before he composed himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, our final offering for the evening."

The room seemed to hold its breath as a new figure was brought onto the stage. She was tall, graceful even in chains, and unlike anything I had ever seen before. An elven woman. Her hair was a cascade of silver, her eyes sharp and defiant despite the situation. She was stunning, but it wasn't just her beauty that had captivated the room—it was her very existence. I hadn't even known that elves existed here. No one had mentioned them.

Powerful runes glowed faintly around her wrists and ankles, binding her in place, but the magic pulsing through those restraints wasn't enough to hide the sheer strength of her presence. She was no ordinary slave. And the room knew it.

A gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by excited whispers. People shifted in their seats, already calculating how much they were willing to bid, how much this rare, exotic creature was worth.

I couldn't move, frozen by the sight of her. Not just because of her beauty, or even the fact that she was an elf—something I still hadn't come to terms with—but because of the look in her eyes. It wasn't fear. It wasn't submission. It was hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred. She was defiant, even now, even with the weight of those magic bindings around her, and that defiance stirred something in me. This wasn't right.

The bidding began, and it was fierce. Hands shot up faster than I had ever seen, voices calling out numbers that made the earlier bids seem like pocket change. The crowd was ravenous, driven by their desire to own this rare prize, to control what they didn't understand.

The intensity of it made my stomach turn. These people were bidding for her as if she were nothing more than a trophy, another artifact to display. But I couldn't stop watching her eyes, the way they glared out at the crowd, filled with fury, refusing to bow to the situation she found herself in.

And then, without thinking, my hand shot up.

The room fell silent.

I hadn't intended to bid. Hell, I hadn't even been conscious of the decision. But there I was, my hand raised, and all eyes turning toward me, including hers. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as the auctioneer, clearly taken aback, called out the new number. The highest bid of the night.

The elf's gaze snapped to my booth, her eyes locking onto mine through the shadowed balcony. There was no gratitude there, no relief. Just a burning hatred, a rage that pierced through me like a blade. She didn't know who I was, but in that moment, I knew I had just made myself part of her nightmare.

The final hammer fell. The room erupted in murmurs and whispers as I sat back in my chair, stunned by what I had just done. I had won the bid. The elven woman was mine.

But even from this distance, I could feel the weight of her gaze, could see the pure loathing in her eyes as she stared up at me.

What had I just gotten myself into?

A few minutes after my bid, I heard the soft knock on the door of the private booth. Leticia entered, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. Her eyes sparkled with something between admiration and intrigue as she closed the door behind her, the hum of the auction fading as we stood alone.

"Well," she said, crossing the room with her usual grace, "I must say, you are full of surprises. An elf, of all things. Quite an unpredictable move, even for someone like you."

I offered a small, nonchalant nod, masking the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind. I didn't want to admit that my hand had acted on its own, that the bid had been as much a surprise to me as it had been to the room. No, that wouldn't serve me well here. Better to let her think this was all part of some grand plan. The truth was, I didn't know what I had just done.

Leticia seemed to pick up on my reluctance to explain, but she didn't push. Instead, she handed me a small velvet pouch, its weight familiar—gold. I knew what was in it. The control tokens for the runes that bound the elven woman. She then explained the mechanics of the magic restraining her, describing the specific runes woven into her bonds—how they worked, how to deactivate them, and how they had been designed to keep even an elf of her power in check.

"This is no small responsibility," Leticia added, her voice soft but measured. "You've paid a substantial amount for her...?"

I glanced at the sack of gold sitting on the table, an uncomfortable reminder of the price I had just paid. It wasn't just the money—it was the implications of owning someone. It felt... wrong. I wasn't the kind of person to buy someone's life, no matter how casual it seemed in this world. Leticia, of course, had no idea what was truly going on in my head. To her, this was business as usual.

"I suppose we'll see," I said with a faint smile, brushing off her comment as I handed over the payment, a hefty amount of gold that felt heavy in both weight and consequence.

She gave me one last lingering look, perhaps curious as to what I had in mind, but she didn't press further. "As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you," Leticia said smoothly before excusing herself, her elegant footsteps disappearing into the corridor.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant sounds of the auction continuing below. I barely had time to gather my thoughts before the door opened once again, this time with a far less graceful presence.

The guards were back, and with them, the elven woman.

The first thing I noticed up close was her sheer beauty—more striking than I had even realized from a distance. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like molten moonlight, framing her sharp, delicate features. Her eyes, a piercing shade of green, were more vibrant than I had ever seen, almost too intense for the dim light of the room. But it wasn't just her appearance that held my attention—it was the sheer force of her anger. She stood there, bound and silent, but her defiance radiated like heat from a fire.

I had never seen such raw fury before, especially in someone so restrained. The runes around her wrists and ankles glowed faintly, pulsing with the magic that kept her movements in check. They were effective, but they did nothing to dim the hatred in her gaze. It was the kind of hatred that wasn't born from fear but from pride—wounded, burning pride.

The guard, a hulking brute of a man, grunted as he handed me the control tokens, then turned to leave without a word. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the elf.

I sighed, glancing at the tokens in my hand and then back at her. "Well," I said, breaking the tense silence, "I suppose neither of us expected this." My voice was calm, almost casual, though inside I was anything but.

Her eyes never left mine, not for a second. There was no fear in them, only contempt. She stood there, waiting, watching, probably wondering what kind of person I really was—wondering what I intended to do now that I had control over her.

I placed the tokens down on the table with a soft clink and pulled out my etching tool. I wasn't going to leave her in those bonds, and I had no intention of using the tokens to control her. It wasn't how I operated. With slow, deliberate movements, I approached her, holding the etching tool up so she could see it.

"I'm going to deactivate the runes," I said quietly, my voice steady. "You're free to go."

She didn't respond, didn't even blink. But her gaze followed every movement I made as I knelt down by her ankles, inspecting the first set of runes. The magic binding her was strong—cleverly woven, but nothing I couldn't unravel. The runes were familiar, though I had never expected to see them used like this.

With a few precise strokes of my etching tool, I began to deactivate the first rune. The soft glow faded as the magic dissipated, leaving only a faint mark on her skin. Her gaze remained fixed on me, still hard, still full of hatred, but now mixed with something else—curiosity, perhaps.

I moved to her wrists next, working methodically. Each time I deactivated a rune, a little more tension seemed to leave her body, though the fire in her eyes never wavered. By the time I finished the last bond, the faint dust from the disrupted magic settled on the floor, the evidence of her freedom unmistakable.

I stepped back, setting the etching tool down. "There," I said, meeting her gaze again. "You're free."

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at me as if she couldn't quite believe what I had just done. Her wrists were no longer bound, her ankles no longer shackled, and yet she didn't move. The silence stretched between us, thick with uncertainty.

She didn't trust me. That much was obvious. I didn't blame her. I had just bought her, after all. But the truth was, I had no intention of keeping her. I wasn't like the others in this city. I wasn't going to play that game.

"You can go," I repeated, my voice soft but firm. "I don't want anything from you. You're free to do whatever you wish."

Her eyes flicked to the tokens on the table, then to the dust on the floor from the broken bonds. Slowly, cautiously, she began to step away from me, as if testing whether her freedom was real. Her movements were deliberate, but I could see the hesitation in them. She wasn't sure if this was a trick, if I had some ulterior motive.

But then, she seemed to decide. Without a word, she turned toward the door, her silver hair flowing behind her as she moved with the grace of someone who had just regained control of her own life.

I watched her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and uncertainty. I had done what I thought was right, but what did that even mean in this world? Had I freed her, or had I just sent her into a different kind of danger?

As the door opened and she stepped into the hallway, I thought that was the end of it. But just as she crossed the threshold, she stopped. For a moment, she stood there, her back to me, silent. Then, before I could say anything, she turned and walked back to me, her movements swift and fluid.

Without a word, she leaned in and kissed me lightly on the forehead. The gesture was brief, but there was a weight to it, a significance I didn't fully understand. As she pulled back, she met my eyes once more, the hatred replaced with something else—something I couldn't quite place.

"That," she said quietly, her voice like velvet, "is the blessing of the elves."

Before I could ask what that meant, she turned and disappeared into the night, leaving me alone in the quiet room.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the door where she had vanished, trying to process what had just happened. A blessing? It didn't feel like anything had changed. I didn't feel any different.

But I couldn't shake the sense that this encounter wasn't over—not by a long shot. The blessing of the elves, whatever it was, felt like the beginning of something, not the end.

And with that thought, I sat down, running a hand through my hair, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.

I sat there for a long while after the elven woman left, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disbelief. The air in the private booth still carried the faintest trace of her presence, like the lingering fragrance of something untouchable, but my mind was swirling with more than just the memory of her. I was buzzing from the events of the night, the thrill of having freed her, the shock of seeing the defiance in her eyes—and that strange parting kiss. The blessing of the elves. I didn't feel any different, at least not physically, but something had shifted. I couldn't explain it, but I knew it wasn't the time to dwell on such mysteries.

Not when I had just spent a small fortune.

It should have been easy to shrug it off, to dismiss the evening as one of those wild nights that would soon blur into the stream of other strange happenings that seemed to follow me. But that elven woman, the hate in her eyes, and the way she walked out of here so gracefully—it clung to my mind like a burr, no matter how much I tried to focus on other things.

I should have been downstairs, mingling with the wealthy patrons who were still discussing the auction, making connections that could help my position in the city. Tonight had been a success, after all, in more ways than one. I'd sold my pendant at an absurdly high price and made my presence known among the rich and powerful. But the thought of smiling and making polite conversation right now felt impossible. I couldn't bring myself to face them—not after what had just transpired. Not when my head was still spinning.

With a practical, almost mechanical turn of events, I decided to head back to the workshop. It was my space, my sanctuary, and if there was one thing I could rely on to steady my thoughts, it was the careful, deliberate craft of creating something tangible. Something real. Besides, I needed the money now. I hadn't exactly planned on throwing my fortune at freeing an elf tonight, and my financial reserves were considerably lighter because of it. Oh well. I could justify it later—it was for a good cause, right?

As I left the auction house, I kept to myself. The city streets were quieter now, the occasional carriage rolling by. My footsteps echoed faintly in the stillness, and I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact with the few passersby. There were still people moving about—drunken nobles being helped into their carriages, the odd servant rushing to attend to some late-night duty—but I didn't pay them much attention. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts, the night's events swirling like an unshakable dream.

By the time I reached my workshop, the streets were nearly empty, and the moon had dipped lower in the sky. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders as I stepped inside. Here, at least, I was in control. The familiar scent of metal, wood, and magic hung in the air, grounding me. The soft hum of the wards I had set up earlier thrummed in the background, a constant reminder that this space was mine—protected, secure.

I lit a few lamps, the soft glow filling the room as I made my way to the workbench. My fingers itched to get to work. I'd seen enough at the auction tonight to spark a dozen new ideas—especially after watching the kinds of weapons and enchanted items people were throwing their money at. They were flashy, sure, but I could do better. They lacked the subtlety, the depth of magic that could turn a good item into something exceptional.

I pulled out the materials I had stashed away earlier—fine metals, precious gems, and a few special components I had gathered over the months. I laid them out carefully on the bench, my mind already buzzing with possibilities.

The first piece I started on was a dagger. Something sleek, elegant, but deadly in more ways than one. I decided to incorporate a dual enchantment—one for protection, the other for stealth. The blade would shimmer in the light, but in shadow, it would disappear completely. Perfect for someone who needed both defense and a little subtlety in their dealings. As I worked, I etched runes into the blade, the chisel moving smoothly in my hand as I focused on the delicate curves of the symbols. Each one had to be perfect—one mistake could unravel the entire enchantment, and I wasn't in the mood for mistakes tonight.

By the time I finished the dagger, the sun had begun to rise, casting a pale light through the workshop's windows. But I didn't stop. My mind was still racing, filled with ideas and inspiration from the night. I moved on to the next item—this time, a pendant similar to the one I had sold at the auction, but with an added twist. I embedded a small sliver of enchanted crystal into the center, amplifying the protective runes and creating a subtle but powerful aura of influence. Whoever wore it would not only be protected but would also find others more... agreeable to their suggestions. It wasn't outright mind control—that was far too crude—but a gentle push, a nudge in the right direction.

I worked through the night, the hours slipping by unnoticed as I lost myself in the craft. The elven woman faded from my mind, becoming a fleeting memory, something unreal, like a strange dream that dissolved with the dawn. By the time I finished the last piece—a set of enchanted gauntlets that would enhance the wearer's strength and reflexes—I could barely remember why I had been so affected by her in the first place. The logic of the night, the practical necessity of making money and securing my future, had taken over. The tools in my hands were real, the metal beneath my fingers tangible. Everything else was fleeting.

But then something snapped me out of my trance.

I felt it—a shift in the air. The faintest flicker of magic brushing against the edge of my wards. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Someone was spying on me.

My wards reacted instantly, disrupting the spell and sending a pulse of energy back to its source. Whoever had been foolish enough to try and scry on my workshop would now be dealing with a magical backlash that was sure to give them a nasty headache. I almost smirked at the thought. Serves them right.

Still, the fact that someone had even attempted to scry on me was troubling. I hadn't been in this city long, but I knew enough to realize that curiosity—especially the magical kind—was rarely innocent. Someone was watching me, or at least trying to, and that meant they were either curious about my work or... something more.

I stood there for a moment, listening to the soft hum of the wards as they settled back into place. Whoever had cast the spell had failed, but it was only a matter of time before they tried again—or worse, before they sent someone to investigate in person.