The minutes ticked down to the start of the auction in Eternia.

  Rob and Marie spent them chatting, laughing a little too easily at each other’s jokes. Amari and Horace leaned over the railing, studying the growing crowd below. Jack did the same.

  As he scanned the floor, Jack began spotting more and more NPCs. They were easy to pick out, thanks to the green tags floating above their heads. Some were the same top-hatted gentlemen and gowned ladies he’d seen lounging downstairs earlier.

  Others were new. Soldiers with polished stars on their shoulders. Mercenaries with scarred faces. Merchants and noblemen in sharp jackets or ornate waistcoats. All of them carried an air of wealth and influence. They made up about a quarter of the audience.

  He looked for the princess but didn’t see her among them. Probably tucked away in a private suite of her own. But which one?

  “ColdHand from the Krakens is here,” Amari murmured beside him.

  “I spotted the Basilisk Guild Leader, too,” Horace added, nodding toward the floor. “Row three, far right.”

  Amari narrowed his eyes. “That’s the Ghouls’ top fighter. The one in black armor, right?”

  “Yeah. Her name’s EbonyBlade.”

  Most of the names and guilds meant little to Jack, but if Amari and Horace recognized them, that said plenty. These were power players with deep pockets—the kind of bidders he wanted competing for his items.

  One face he did recognize was Xana, the girl who’d been with the Slayer. There was no sign of her teammates. IronIre had only sent one representative. That saved them five thousand gold in entrance fees, but it also meant Xana sat alone while the Slayer waited outside.

  Jack and the others, by contrast, watched from the comfort of their private suite. For a moment, Jack considered sending the Slayer a teasing message. Then he glanced at Amari and thought better of it. He probably wouldn’t approve.

  Xana moved gracefully through the gathering, clearly networking. That was probably why she’d been sent instead of the Slayer.

  She wasn’t the only one. Many players mingled, exchanging greetings and idle conversation. The biggest clusters formed around the big shots Amari and Horace had pointed out.

  “Ryder from Prejudice is there,” Amari said.

  Jack sat up straighter. Finally, a name he knew. Sure enough, there was Ryder, wearing the same gleaming armor he’d worn during the battle against the Slayer. He looked so short, though! Jack had assumed he’d be taller—probably because of how imposing he’d seemed on horseback. Without a horse, he looked far less impressive. Ryder kept to himself, part of a group that didn’t mingle.

  Amari and Horace continued pointing out players and guilds while Jack tried to commit faces to memory.

  “I’m pretty sure I saw someone wearing the Shadowborne crest, too. That’s six Tier-One guilds already.”

  “And now that we know VIP rooms are an option…” Amari scanned the surrounding balconies. “Who’s to say how many more are here?”

  A soft thud broke Jack’s focus. He looked right. From the way Amari and Horace reacted, they’d heard it too—the sound of a door closing nearby. Their neighboring suite had just received its guests.

  I wonder whether the occupants are players or NPCs, Jack mused.

  The lights soon dimmed. The stage went dark, save for a single spotlight on the center podium.

  The crowd hushed as a tall man stepped into the light. A white wig sat neatly atop his head, contrasting with his dark coat.

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that—”

  “That’s right,” Amari said.

  Now Jack understood why they’d reacted so quickly when Prometheus, the Auction Master, appeared.

  “Welcome to yet another auction, esteemed guests,” Prometheus began, his gentle tenor carrying with ease across the auditorium. “We have quite the collection to present to you today. This auction will feature 375 unique lots. We thank you for your continued patronage.” Prometheus gave a shallow bow, then stepped aside.

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  From the shadows, another man emerged.

  He was short and wiry, with a narrow face. He wore a black coat as well, though far plainer—with none of the gold embroidery. He spoke before he’d even come to a full stop.

  “Welcome welcome let’s get things rolling standard auction rules apply bidding is final all prices in gold starting bid and minimum increment set per item bid loud bid clear or don’t bid at all let’s begin.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. The man spoke at an inhuman speed.

  A second spotlight snapped on, this one to the left of the stage.

  There, gleaming beneath the light, was a steel longsword resting on a black velvet mount. It looked sleek, polished to a mirror finish. As the crowd leaned in for a better look, a system prompt blinked open in front of Jack.

  Lot #1: 15x [Steel Longsword]

  Rarity: Rare

  Type: Two-Handed Weapon

  Average Durability: 160

  Average Attack Power: 95

  Average Crafting Grade: C+

  Effects: +10% attack speed, +20% slash damage, +10% crit damage

  Requirements: Warrior, Level 50

  The auctioneer didn’t miss a beat.

  “Lot one fifteen steel longswords fine craftsmanship a warrior’s weapon starting bid five hundred gold do I hear five hundred?”

  In the seating area, the players lounged back, some chatting, none bothering to bid. The NPCs, however, were already in motion.

  “Five hundred from bidder 14 six hundred from 26 seven hundred back to 14 do I hear eight hundred seven hundred going once going twice sold.”

  The gavel cracked, loud and final.

  Is that it? The bidding’s over?

  The whole thing had wrapped up in under a minute.

  Almost in sync with the gavel’s strike, the spotlight on the sword went dark. Another flared to life on the opposite side of the stage, revealing a pile of dark metallic ore stacked in neat bundles. Even as the auctioneer began calling bids, assistants moved in the shadows, setting up the next lot.

  “This thing moves fast, huh?” Jack whispered.

  “Of course,” Amari said, amused. “Otherwise we’d be here all day.”

  Lot #2 was a massive stack of iron ore. Again, no players raised their paddles. Only NPCs bid.

  “Three hundred stacks of black iron one hundred units each starting bid three hundred gold three hundred from 9 three twenty to 32 three twenty going once going twice and sold.”

  Three hundred stacks of one hundred iron? That’s thirty thousand units. Jack’s head swam.

  Horace turned to him. “So, Jackie,” he said in a mock-instructor tone, “let me teach you the basics of Eternian Auctions.”

  “Please. I’m a little lost,” Jack admitted.

  “Those NPCs are there to soak up the lots no one wants,” Horace said. “They bought the longswords for twenty percent over market price, but the ore? Only five percent.”

  “That’s a big gap. Why?”

  “First lot was fifteen swords. Not much. The iron? Three hundred stacks. Huge volume. The more of an item you bring, the less NPCs overpay.”

  Jack frowned. “Then why bring so much? Wouldn’t it be better to sell in smaller batches?”

  Horace chuckled. “Here’s the catch. The Auction House bundles everything together. That ore? Might’ve come from six different players, each with fifty stacks. But together, they flooded the lot and cut into each other’s margins.”

  “Oh… So it’s a game of luck?”

  “No. A game of strategy,” Horace corrected. “You have to pick the right items in the right quantity. Too few, and it’s not worth the thousand-gold entry fee. Too many, and you tank your profits.”

  “I see…”

  “There are other factors, too. How many sold recently, how many is listed on the market... all that plays a role.”

  “Shh! Guys. Something juicy just came up,” Amari whispered.

  Four more lots had flown by while Jack and Horace talked, all bought by NPCs.

  Now the spotlight shone on a single gray scroll tied with a neat ribbon.

  “One schematic recovered from an archaeological site in the frozen wastelands of the White Crown. It contains instructions for an incredibly advanced siege weapon—the Tundra Trebuchet. It requires an expert carpenter and a journeyman tinkerer to craft starting bid five thousand gold.”

  Amari straightened. “Nice.”

  “What? Is it good?” Jack asked.

  “It’s great,” Amari said. “Tundra Trebuchets deal bonus ice damage. Any guild doing sieges would kill for this.”

  EbonyBlade raised her paddle.

  “Five thousand from number 59 thank you do I hear six six thousand from 24.”

  Another paddle went up—this one held by a burly man in bronze armor, a jagged scar running from ear to jaw.

  “Seven thousand from number 42,” the auctioneer called.

  “Eight thousand,” EbonyBlade said again.

  The man raised his voice. “The Griffons would appreciate it if you let us have this one. No need to make this... personal. Nine thousand.”

  Jack tensed. Was that a threat? EbonyBlade didn’t even glance at him. Just raised her paddle.

  “Ten thousand to 59. Eleven thousand from 42.”

  “Twelve thousand five hundred,” she said.

  The man’s face twisted. “Don’t push it, Ebony! We really won’t forget this. Fifteen thousand!”

  “Going once! Going twice—”

  “Seventeen thousand,” EbonyBlade said. She looked his way and smirked.

  “You—”

  “Going once! Going twice! Sold to number 59 for seventeen thousand gold.”

  “I’ll teach you a lesson later, Ebony.”

  She finally turned her head.

  “You’re welcome to come settle the score,” she said evenly. “I’ll try not to one-shot you as I did in the last siege.”

  Laughter rippled through the crowd. A few players even clapped.

  Jack exhaled. These people were throwing around staggering amounts of money. And not just money—power, leverage, intimidation. Just how many feuds and wars had started on that floor?

  At least this VIP room gave them anonymity, if they ever wanted to bid without drawing attention.

  The next lot was ordinary. But Jack’s heart was still racing.

  Seventeen thousand gold for a single schematic. The whales had come.

  And with that, a glimmer of hope crept in. Just how much would they bid for their stuff?