Morning light filtered through the tall windows of Alaric’s room, painting everything in shades of gold and pale amber. Dust motes drifted through the beams.
Alaric sat at his desk, surrounded by letters that lay scattered across the polished wood surface. His crimson eyes moved from one to the next, tracking information like a predator tracking prey.
Responses to all of the ones he sent earlier.
Each one agreeing.
A sly smirk tugged at his lips.
His gaze shifted to a different set of docunts... the auction papers. Everything arranged with bureaucratic precision that would make the whole affair seem legitimate, official and real.
He leaned back in his chair, and he exhaled slowly.
"Now all I need is to wait for—"
Knock! Knock!
The sound cut through his words, sharp and precise.
"Enter."
The door opened to reveal one of the household maids. She stepped inside and dipped into a quick bow.
"My lord, soone is here to see you. He says you’re expecting him."
Alaric’s smile widened.
All set.
"Show him to the guest room. I’ll be down shortly."
"Of course, my lord."
She curtsied again and retreated, the door closing softly behind her.
Alaric stood, taking a mont to adjust his coat, smooth down any wrinkles. Then he gathered the auction papers into a neat stack, set the letters aside in a drawer, and headed for the door.
The guest room was on the first floor.
A man stood near that window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the grounds with patient stillness.
He was around mid forties.
Alaric entered, and the man turned imdiately, offering a respectful bow.
"My lord. Thank you for seeing ."
"Of course." Alaric closed the door behind him and gestured toward the chairs arranged near a low table. "Please, sit."
They both settled.
Alaric in one chair, the man in another.
"I trust your journey was uneventful?" Alaric asked.
"Very much so, my lord. The roads were clear, weather favorable." The man’s voice was smooth, "Lady Vivienne sends her regards."
"How kind of her."
A pause. Then the man’s hand moved inside his coat and withdrew a sealed envelope. He set it on the table between them.
"The arrangents you requested." His eyes flicked to the envelope, then back to Alaric. "Everything is in order. The... rchandise will be delivered to the location specified. Tonight, after sundown."
Alaric nodded once, reaching forward to take the envelope. His fingers broke the seal, and he scanned the contents quickly.
He folded the papers and tucked them into his own coat.
"Excellent work. Please convey my thanks to Lady Vivienne."
The man inclined his head. "She will be pleased to hear it, my lord."
They talked for few minutes.
Then...
"Will there be anything else?" the man asked after a mont.
"No. That will be all."
They both stood. The man offered another bow, slightly deeper this ti, acknowledging the transaction’s completion.
"Then I’ll take my leave, my lord."
Alaric walked him to the door, opened it, and watched as the man moved down the corridor. A servant appeared to escort him to the exit, and within monts, he was gone.
Alaric closed the door and stood there for a mont, his hand resting on the envelope in his coat pocket.
He smiled. And moved back to his room.
---------------
A rchant hall in the western district.
This was the venue Alaric had selected sat on neutral ground, far enough from any single noble’s territory to avoid accusations of favoritism.
The building was impressive, high ceilings supported by wooden beams, tall windows that let in afternoon light, polished floors. A long table dominated the center of the main room, surrounded by chairs.
Smaller tables lined the walls.
Perfect for an auction that needed to appear legitimate.
Alaric arrived early, of course.
Punctuality was a weapon when wielded correctly.
He moved through the space with asured steps, checking sight lines, positions.
Control of the environnt was control of the narrative.
A servant appeared which was hired specifically for this occasion, not part of any household staff.
"My lord, the refreshnts are ready. Wine, tea, pastries as requested."
"Good. Station yourself near the door. Announce guests as they arrive."
"Of course, my lord."
Alaric positioned himself near the head of the table, hands clasped behind his back, projecting calm confidence.
His crimson eyes tracked the entrance, waiting.
And he didn’t have to wait long.
The main doors opened.
"Lord Valtair and Lady Valtair," the servant announced.
The Count entered first.
His coat was expensive, deep burgundy with gold threading. But it hung slightly wrong on his fra, as if he’d lost weight recently.
Behind him, Vivienne moved with practiced grace.
She wore matching gown. Her hair swept up beneath a delicate hat. Her expression was perfectly neutral, the mask of a noble wife attending her husband’s business.
Two guards flanked them, hands resting on sword hilts more from habit than threat.
Alaric stepped forward and smiled welcoly.
"Count and Countess." He inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you for coming. I trust the journey was pleasant?"
The Count’s jaw worked for a mont before he managed a stiff nod.
"Pleasant enough." He said, his voice laced with an edge. "Though I’ll admit, Lord Alaric, your ssage was... unexpected. You said we would discuss the mining contracts?"
"Indeed." Alaric gestured toward the table. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."
The Count’s eyes narrowed. "Good. Let’s finalize this quickly. I have other matters to attend to today."
Vivienne followed, her eyes briefly eting Alaric’s before she looked away.
They moved toward the table but just as they were about to take their seats—
The main doors opened again.
And multiple footsteps echoed, coming inside.
Count turned, confused as he saw six figures entered the hall.
Nobles. Each dressed in their house colors, each accompanied by a single attendant or guard. Their expressions ranged from determined to barely concealed greed.
Baroness Elira Thornvale. Beside her, Baron Varell Duskwood.
Count Hadrian Greaves. Baroness Lysara Fenwick. Baron Torvan Ashford. Count Marius Blackwell.
All of them moving with purpose toward the center of the room.
Count’s face darkened imdiately. "What is the aning of this? Alaric, you said—"
"Count Valtair." Elira Thornvale’s voice cut through his protest like a blade. "We received word that the Vernacite and other mining contracts were being transferred. Given their... importance, we demand the opportunity to bid."
"Bid?" Valtair’s voice rose. "There is no bidding! Lord Alaric and I have an agreent—"
"An agreent reached through what ans, exactly?" Count Marius spoke next, his tone was mild, pleasant, but his eyes were sharp. "We all know your financial situation, Valtair. It’s hardly a secret."
The Valtair’s face flushed crimson. "How dare you—"
"Gentlen. Ladies." Alaric’s voice carried across the room, not loud, but commanding attention. All eyes turned to him.
He remained by the table, one hand resting on the contract docunts, his expression troubled. Conflicted.
"I apologize for the confusion." He looked at Valtair, then at the assembled nobles. "Count Valtair, I fully intended to honor our discussion regarding the mines. However—" He gestured at the others. "These lords and ladies have made... compelling argunts about the impropriety of a private sale. They’ve suggested that such valuable contracts should be available through open auction, to ensure fairness and proper market value."
"Fairness?" Valtair’s hands clenched into fists. "We had a deal, Alaric! You gave your word—"
"And I intend to honor it," Alaric said smoothly. "But these lords and ladies have pointed out that bypassing proper procedures could appear... questionable. Especially given your current financial entanglents."
Elira’s lips curved into sothing that wasn’t quite a smile. "We’re simply ensuring everything is conducted properly. Above board. You understand, I’m sure, Count Valtair."
Valtair’s jaw worked, rage and desperation warring across his features. He turned back to Alaric. "You can’t do this. Those mines were promised to —"
"They were offered to you," Alaric corrected gently. "But if others are willing to bid higher..."
Vivienne moved and whispered sothing in Valtair’s ear.
"I’ll match any bid!" Count Valtair snapped. His voice cracked slightly. "Whatever they offer—"
"With what funds, exactly?" Count Hadrian Greaves spoke up. "Your creditors are already circling. Half the nobility knows you’re underwater."
Vivienne’s hand found her husband’s arm, but he shook her off.
"This is extortion—"
"This is business," Varell Duskwood said mildly. "Open. Fair. And Legal."
Alaric looked between them, and smirked, but quickly changed his expression to the picture of a man caught between conflicting obligations.
"Perhaps..." He paused, as if considering. "Perhaps we should proceed with the auction. But Count Valtair, given our prior discussions, I could offer you first right of refusal? If you match the highest bid, the contracts are yours."
It was a lifeline. Poisoned, but a lifeline.
Valtair stared at him, breathing hard, clearly torn between gratitude and fury.
The other nobles shifted, so nodding approval at Alaric’s "fairness," others calculating how high they’d need to bid.
"Fine," Valtair ground out finally. "Fine. Let’s proceed with this."
Alaric gestured toward the table. "Then please, everyone, take your seats. Let’s conduct this properly."
They moved...
Valtair with stiff, angry steps, the others with varying degrees of satisfaction or calculation.
The room settled into tense arrangent around the long table.
And Alaric stood at the head, looking like a man trying his best to navigate an impossible situation.
Perfect.
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