The soft chime of a silver bell sang through the Grand Auction Hall like a whispered promise of destiny.
A hush fell over the audience, drawing even the most opulent nobles and merchant lords into attention. Chandeliers of skyglass shimmered above the wide hall, refracting hues of moonlight and firelight across the marble floor. Power shimmered in the air—subtle enchantments woven into every pillar, every chair, every breath.
And then she appeared.
Not the announcer everyone expected, but the beastkin auctioneer—tall, statuesque, with silver fur catching the candlelight like spun silk. Her hips swayed with every confident step. Her gold eyes gleamed like molten treasure. Clad in translucent violet silks that clung scandalously to her curves, she stepped onto the stage and purred into the enchanted sound-catcher.
"Welcome, esteemed lords and sovereign guests… to the Crownfire Auction of Elarion. The first of this year's two sacred bids. Today, your desires will be tested… and your vaults, emptied. May your fortunes burn bright."
The hall stirred with a blend of lust and greed.
In the Sovereign Booth above the auction floor, Shin Tempest sat upon a seat carved from dreamwood and inlaid with obsidian serpents. His wives flanked him in a semi-circle of divine elegance. Robin and Elise whispered beside him. Leona and Leone stood in twin vigilance behind. Kaelira lounged with royal ease, an iceborn smile playing at her lips.
And beside them, sitting just one step higher, was Velmaria—Second Princess of Elarion and Sovereign of Trade. Her violet hair coiled in regal spirals around a jeweled diadem, her posture poised, her expression composed. Once distant from Robin, now seated beside her once more. Their bond was whole again.
Shin didn't glance at Velmaria yet. He didn't need to.
He held a scroll in his hand—crafted from midnight silk and etched with silver ink. It pulsed faintly with spellscript. Inside his mind, a sweet and ever-familiar voice resonated:
[Master, the auction has begun. Priority Items categorized.]
[State priorities.]
[One: Liberate skilled slaves—artisans, crafters, strategic talents. Two: Acquire sovereign-grade materials. Three: Deny key assets to potential threats.]
Shin nodded slightly. His amber gaze shifted downward, watching the stage where the first lot appeared.
Six orcs in chains. Weathered bodies, hardened gazes. They weren't broken—they were merely waiting.
[Prepare Liberation Clause, citizen-soldier conversion.]
[Already embedded in acquisition parameters.]
The beastkin auctioneer purred again. "Lot One. Six seasoned orc mercenaries. Gladiatorial backgrounds. High battle rating. Starting bid: one thousand platinum pieces."
The crowd erupted.
"Fifteen hundred!"
"Two thousand!"
"Three!"
Greedy noble hands lifted gilded paddles, each one chasing more muscle for their private armies.
But Shin's eyes saw more than flesh and weaponry. He saw potential. Pain. Pride.
He raised his hand, almost lazily.
"Five thousand platinum," he said.
The hall fell into a moment of stunned silence. Some nobles turned to look. Others whispered behind silk fans and enchanted masks.
"Five thousand platinum!" echoed the auctioneer, almost breathless.
"Six!" cried a merchant prince, desperate.
Shin didn't look at him.
"Ten thousand," he said flatly.
A hush dropped like a blade.
The opposing bidder paled and sat down slowly.
"Ten thousand platinum… sold!" The beastkin's voice trembled slightly with delight. "To the Sovereign Booth!"
Below, the orcs stiffened. Their heads lifted. In their eyes—recognition.
Not ownership. Freedom.
As they were led off the stage, Shin leaned back in his seat. Robin smiled beside him.
"You just made yourself a few enemies," she said lightly.
"I'll buy their apologies later," Shin replied, eyes half-lidded.
Velmaria was already scribbling in a crystal tablet, her jaw tense but proud.
Another lot emerged.
Three veiled elven women, hands bound in silk, faces lowered in silent defeat.
"Lot Two. Elven maidens. Enchanted bloodlines, magical service capacity. Three thousand platinum."
Shin stood.
The motion itself sent ripples through the room.
"I invoke the Sovereign's Right of Liberation," he declared.
Even Velmaria flinched—but only for a moment.
The beastkin woman blinked, then bowed her head slightly. "That… right is nearly forgotten."
"But still valid," Shin said, descending from his booth like a storm come to court.
Magical sigils flared on the stage as their contracts materialized.
[Confirmed. Conditions met. Sovereign authority recognized.]
Shin stood before the women.
"You are free," he said simply.
Their veils fell away, revealing tear-soaked faces. And hope. So much hope.
The nobles didn't cheer. They murmured—some with confusion, some with awe.
Shin returned to his seat in silence.
And the auction moved on.
⸻
The Game Shifts
Velmaria's voice rang clearly across the hall. "Lot Twelve: A Phoenix Feather—Divine Grade. From the fourth rebirth of the Solar Firewing. Immunity to fire. Amplifies affinity. Starting bid: 1,000 platinum."
Gasps.
The beastkin auctioneer swayed her hips toward the front of the stage. "Your bids, my golden-hearted patrons?"
Shin tapped his bidding crystal lightly.
[Analyze active enchantments.]
[Scanning. False glamours detected in three lots. Celestial ore hidden within bauble. Trigger dormant artifact—coded for resonant heirs only.]
"Five hundred platinum," Shin called.
"Sold!" purred the auctioneer. "To our insightful mystery bidder."
Velmaria's expression tightened with intrigue.
"Next," she intoned, "a Tempest Seed. One of only seven. Can create a storm elemental loyal to its master. Starting bid: 1,500 platinum."
Shego leaned toward Shin. "Storms, chaos, and maybe combat bikinis? I need it."
"Three thousand," Shin said calmly.
Another bidder responded with 3,500.
"Seven thousand," Shin countered, voice firm.
Silence.
"Sold," came the breathless reply.
Kaelira raised a brow. "How many chaos tubs will she demand now?"
"I can already feel the schematics forming," muttered Robin.
[New lot approaching.]
Velmaria lifted her scepter. "The Mirror of Erisedia. One vision per moon. Accuracy confirmed. Side effects… not our responsibility. Starting bid: 2,000 platinum."
Velzard sipped her wine. "Too risky."
Shin passed.
A veiled noblewoman outbid all challengers at 11,000.
⸻
The Stage Turns Personal
"Now… three elite items," Velmaria announced, "presented by the Sovereign's Companions."
First: A Lightning Spear, forged by the red-haired Hephaestus himself, Sovereign Smith of Flame.
Bids soared past 9,000.
Second: Ice Petals from Velzard's domain. Preservation magic. Lifesaving. Bids hit 11,200.
Third: The Sovereign Star Wand, wielded by Serafall.
Serafall stood and sparkled. Literally.
"Infinite charm! Extra sparkle! And explosions!"
Shin chuckled, watching the crowd react in equal parts awe and terror.
"Twenty thousand platinum!" shouted a frost lich, defeated only by a desert duchess at the same number.
[Final Phase.]
Velmaria gestured once more.
A golden case hovered into the air. Radiant. Heavy with divinity.
"The Tears of Celestial Beasts. A single drop awakens dormant bloodlines. Starting bid: 10,000 platinum."
Serafall beamed. "Shiny!"
Boa purred. "I want it."
Shego grinned. "Add a hot tub."
Bidding exploded.
"15,000!"
"18,000!"
"25,000!"
Shin stood once more. His presence silenced the storm.
"Forty thousand platinum," he said.
Every noble fell still.
The hammer fell.
"Sold," the auctioneer whispered, stunned.
Velmaria's face was unreadable. But her fingers dug tightly into the edge of her scepter.
⸻
A New Order
As the bidding resumed for Phase Three, Elise leaned toward Robin. "Did Shego really mean the hot tub?"
"She plans to launch it into orbit," Robin muttered.
Kaelira sipped her wine. "I've already cleared the airspace."
Leona finally smiled. "Boa's veils are hypnotic. They'll arrive enchanted."
"They already are," Shin said quietly.
His wives chuckled.
Velmaria's lips curled slightly at the corner. Approval—silent, but unmistakable.
The room below tried to remember how to breathe.
This wasn't just a display of wealth.
It was a declaration.
The world was changing.
And Shin Tempest had placed his bid.
He intended to win.
Every.
Single.
Lot.