The auction hall buzzed with energy, voices rising and falling between bids as Luminaires raised small wooden signs marked with numbers.
"Going once, going twice…"
The auctioneer dragged out the words, giving just enough pause to tease another offer from the crowd.
"Sold! Booth number six for 650 mindstones."
A solid crack echoed through the hall as the wooden gavel struck the podium, sealing the deal.
'Still no defensive mote.'
Kael leaned back in his seat, eyes scanning the stage, waiting for something truly worth his attention.
He only really had one goal when he had entered the auction, and that was to find a defensive mote type.
Of course, if there came a mote which he deemed useful he wouldn't hold back in trying to get it.
'However…' Kael sighed inwardly. 'I won't get far with 95 mindstones.'
He almost laughed. The absurdity of his situation bordered on comedic.
The latest motes had gone for well over 600 mindstones each, far beyond anything he could offer.
'I'll need to sell at least two of my motes just to have a shot at winning a bid.'
Kael let his eyes drift lazily toward the ceiling as his thoughts wandered.
'Titanwood Stalker would easily go for 600 mindstones… maybe more,' he rubbed his chin, 'and the Lure mote, at least 700.'
He ran through his collection in his head, piecing together a mental picture of his current "budget."
It was a solid estimate, but it all depended on whether someone was actually willing to buy.
Still, Kael wasn't too worried. Prices at the auction might seem absurd to outsiders, but for those in the room, it was normal. These were wealthy Luminaires, often sitting on dozens of motes, all looking for that one perfect piece to round out their kit.
And with auctions, there was always competition.
Once two bidders wanted the same mote, prices soared, logic thrown aside, pride and desperation taking the reins.
"Next up, a defensive rank three mote, Stone Scale Mote."
Kael's eyes sharpened, a cold glint flashing through them at the sound of the name.
"Upon activation, this mote will generate stone scales across the user's body, denser and tougher than iron," the auctioneer continued.
Kael straightened in his seat, his focus sharpening.
"Starting bid: 200 mindstones."
The auctioneer's gaze scanned the room. It didn't take long, someone raised a bidding sign without hesitation.
"250 mindstones, going once… going twice…"
Only moments before the auctioneer could declare the mote sold, another bidder raised their sign.
"300 mindstones to number 43."
The voice rang loud and clear across the hall, amplified by a mote without a doubt, ensuring not a single ear missed it.
And just like that, the bid became a game of cat and mouse.
Prices climbed quickly, tension rising with each counter, until the number hit 600 mindstones.
Kael narrowed his eyes. Then, slowly, he turned.
Behind him and Darian stood a young woman in a tailored red vest and short matching skirt, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
Kael gave a casual wave, motioning her to step forward.
As she approached, he leaned in close and whispered something into her ear.
"...going thric—"
The auctioneer froze mid-sentence.
"An impressive 1,100 mindstone bid from our honorable guest in booth three!"
The hall buzzed, voices low but charged, heads turning toward Kael's booth.
But the stir lasted only a few moments before the room settled again, tension folding back into silence.
Kael's gaze drifted across the crowd below, watching them through the thin white curtain that hung in front of his booth.
Each VIP section had one, soft white cloth draped over the opening like a veil. It wasn't just for show. It served multiple purposes: to prevent powerful families from silently intimidating bidders, to keep friendly ties from fraying when bids grew aggressive, and, more than anything, to protect the bidders' identities.
Sure, there were plenty of motes that could unveil someone's identity regardless, but inside the Luminaire District, using motes was strictly forbidden, and doubly so during the auction. It wasn't just tradition. It was a rule everyone followed, one that kept things fair and clean, or at least as clean as an auction could be.
'Hope that does it.'
Kael shifted his position slightly, waiting for the auctioneer to close the deal.
1,100 mindstones might sound absurd, and it was, at least with Kael's budget, but this wasn't just about winning the bid. It was about sending a message.
By raising the offer so dramatically, Kael made his intent unmistakably clear: I want this mote, and I'm willing to fight for it.
It was more bluff than truth, but a calculated one, and one that had a high chance of working.
The reason the regular bidders had gone quiet wasn't necessarily because they lacked the funds to keep going. No, it was because they didn't dare to. And why would they? They were bidding against a VIP.
While they couldn't see who sat behind the curtain, they could see the booth, and more importantly, the person behind the curtain could see them. That made it real. Tangible and dangerous.
Offending someone powerful enough to sit behind that veil, someone who could easily identify you while remaining hidden themselves, wasn't just unwise, it was potentially suicidal.
Anyone with a functioning sense of self-preservation knew better than to challenge a VIP bid. It wasn't just about etiquette, it was about their own survival.
This was just one of the many ways the noble families shaped these events to ensure the best rewards stayed within their reach.
'There's still those left though…'
Kael's gaze drifted across the hall, settling on one of the many veiled booths opposite his own.
While the regular bidders were easy enough to read, the VIPs were another story entirely. Predicting how they'd act was nearly impossible. Each one sat behind a curtain like his, carrying the same status, the same anonymity, and likely, funding so deep it couldn't be emptied in a lifetime.
Kael slumped back into his chair, exhaling quietly as he waited.
Some VIPs would take the hint. They'd respect the silent message behind Kael's outrageous bid and back off. But others, especially those with pride sharper than sense, might feel the need to prove something, even behind a veil. And when that happened, bids could spiral out of control.
It didn't come down to logic. Not even strategy.
No, in the end… it all hinged on one thing.
Their personality.
After a bid surpassed 1,000 mindstones, the usual three-second countdown vanished entirely, replaced instead by a drawn-out three-minute window, meant to give bidders time to reconsider their next move. It wasn't long, not really, but in the heat of the moment it might as well have been an eternity. That's certainly what it felt like.
Kael turned his head toward Darian, who sat comfortably beside him in a matching armchair, calmly watching the bidding war unfold below.
Ever since they'd entered the auction hall, Kael had noticed a shift in Darian, subtle, but undeniable. The easygoing attitude from earlier had vanished without a trace. In its place was something entirely different. His posture was upright, his expression composed, and every movement carried a quiet formality that wouldn't look out of place among high-ranking nobles.
'He's probably been trained for this,' Kael thought, observing him. 'Trained not to stand out among nobility.'
He studied him for a second longer before turning his gaze back out into the hall.
Darian hadn't said a word unless it was absolutely necessary since they'd arrived, and Kael didn't mind. In truth, silence suited him best. But even so… it was a skill, being able to shift personas so cleanly. Like flipping a switch.
"Going once…"
The auctioneer began the countdown again, voice echoing through the quiet hall.
Kael sat still, breathing calm, eyes cold as they followed the announcer's every move.
"Going twice…"
Just as the final word was about to fall, the auctioneer froze mid-sentence, same way he had earlier when Kael first placed his bid.
"1,200 mindstones," he announced, tone slightly raised, "from the honorable guest in booth twenty-two."
Kael closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
'Typical…'
Without missing a beat, he waved to the young woman standing behind him and Darian, motioning her closer once more, leaning in to whisper something quietly into her ear.
The announcer's voice rang out again.
"1,300 mindstones from the honorable guest in booth three."
The moment the words left his mouth, a quiet stir moved through the crowd. Whispers spread from one corner of the hall to the other, not from excitement to bid, but from the anticipation of what was likely coming next.
A bidding war between two VIPs.
A small smile tugged at Kael's lips as he looked down at the crowd below, watching their eyes light up with expectation, their hushed murmurs rising in pitch.
They were excited.
They thought they were about to witness something intense, dramatic.
"Oh," Kael whispered under his breath, amusement dancing in his voice, "how I'm about to disappoint you."