Chapter 13: Chapter 13: The Auction Hall

Chapter 13: The Auction Hall

Marie’s jaw tightened the moment Sevrin turned, clearly ready to march straight after the Princess down the road. Of course, he would. He never thought things through.

She stepped forward quickly and grabbed his arm before he could move.

He spun on her, annoyed, but the look she gave him made his mouth close.

Marie sighed through her teeth. “Are you insane? She said we’ll meet her here again in twelve hours. That was a clear sign she wanted to go alone. Or did you forget what we’re supposed to do?”

For a heartbeat his irritation lingered. Then, under her steady gaze, it faded. He let out a breath, shoulders slumping slightly. “You’re right, Marie. The last days have me too excited.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Too excited.”

And who could blame him? The last days had been intense. Not only the summoning yesterday—dragging the Princess of the Abyss into the world—but also their first real crime. They had broken into the merchant’s house, killed the inhabitants, and taken it for themselves.

Marie hated to admit it, even in the quiet of her own thoughts, but they had crossed a line. A line you couldn’t step back from. Once you killed, once you chose survival over innocence, there was no returning to who you were before.

But what choice did we have? she told herself again. We were already outcasts. There was no other path left to us.

She shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Instead, she nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Let’s do the couple thing to enter the city, all right?”

Sevrin blinked at her, then grinned faintly. “Yeah. We’ve done it before.”

It wasn’t the first time they had played the role. Moving between towns, passing as travelers, sometimes as siblings, sometimes as lovers, it depended on what raised fewer questions. In a big city like Tiara, two young people entering together would draw less suspicion than two strays loitering at the gate.

They stepped a little aside, closer to the treeline, and pulled off their cultist robes. The black cloth pooled at their feet, heavy with damp earth and smoke from campfires. Marie crouched, folding hers quickly, and glanced at Sevrin. “We can’t risk anyone seeing these.”

“Bury them?” he suggested.

She nodded. Together they dug into the soil with sticks and their boots until they’d scraped a shallow pit. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hide the robes well enough. They shoved the folded garments inside, covered them with dirt, and pressed leaves and stones on top until the ground looked natural again.

Marie brushed off her hands, then straightened to look at Sevrin. Without the robe, he seemed younger again. He wore a plain linen shirt, a little wrinkled from travel but still decent, and dark trousers tucked into sturdy boots. A leather belt hung at his waist, with a pouch for coins and small items. Practical, simple, but not shabby.

She glanced down at herself. Under the cloak she wore a modest blue tunic over a white undershirt, the fabric worn but clean. Sturdy trousers covered her legs, tucked neatly into her boots—practical for travel and a far cry from noble fashion, but durable enough for someone used to living on the streets. She had tied her hair back before they left the camp, and the style had held well enough. Nothing flashy, just casual, respectable clothes that let her blend in.

No one would look twice at them like this. And that was the goal.

Sevrin smirked a little, tugging at the cuff of his shirt. “We almost look normal.”

Marie shot him a look, though a corner of her mouth twitched. “Almost.” She adjusted his collar with quick fingers, then let go. “Now keep it that way. No bragging about your arcane studies, no hinting at what we did. Just a man and woman on the road, looking for work or family.”

He gave a mock bow. “As you command, my lady.”

“Don’t start,” she warned, but her tone was softer.

For a moment they stood side by side, looking toward the massive gates. The line of travelers moved slowly, carts and wagons creaking forward, guards checking papers and waving people through. The sound of merchants shouting and children laughing drifted on the air.

Marie tightened her grip on his arm. “Let’s go. Blend in.”

Sevrin nodded. They stepped back onto the road together, side by side, just another couple joining the stream of people bound for Tiara.

While they waited in the slow-moving line, Sevrin leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Do you know where the Princess is? I can’t see her. I thought she would still be in line…”

Marie almost snapped right there. “Don’t call her Princess here,” she hissed. “And no, I don’t know. How should I know where she is?” She rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply.

Sevrin muttered something under his breath, words she didn’t catch, but he didn’t press the matter. At least he had the sense to let it go.

Marie crossed her arms tighter. Sometimes she honestly wondered why Sevrin was their leader at all. Sure, he had gathered them with that damn book and his big promises, back when they all still believed in his dream. But he was more of a dreamer than a leader. When things went bad, when it all went down the drain, she had been the one to fix it. She had been the one to keep them alive.

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She clenched her jaw. And yet here we are, still following him.

The line moved forward another step.

After fifteen minutes, they finally reached the entry. A big, broad-shouldered guardsman stood at the checkpoint, his halberd resting casually against one arm. His voice was deep and a little bored as he asked, “Name and reason of visit?”

Before Sevrin could open his mouth and ruin everything, Marie leaned in quickly, clinging to his arm with both hands.

“This is my honey, Tobiii,” she said in the sweetest voice she could muster. “He promised to show me the big city today and buy me something.” She even added a little giggle at the end. “Teehee.”

Sevrin’s face turned red instantly. He stared down at the ground, looking like he wanted to crawl into it.

“And this is…” he stammered, then blurted out, “…my fiancée Lily.”

Marie froze for a split second, her mind flashing white. Lily?! Really? Out of all the names… But she forced herself to nod, lips pressed into a smile. “Yeees, I’m Lily,” she said, praying her voice didn’t crack.

The guardsman raised one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Mm.” He muttered something under his breath that sounded like crazy farmers, then scratched their names into a small ledger. “All right. That’ll be five bronze each. Today’s market day. Guess that’s what you’re here for, huh?”

Marie tilted her head sweetly toward Sevrin. “Honeeey?”

He sighed, fumbling with his purse, and dropped ten bronze coins into the guard’s palm. “Here. Ten bronze, good sir.”

The guardsman gave them both a long look that was halfway between annoyance and amusement. Then he smirked faintly, pocketed the coins, and waved them through.

“Enjoy your market day,” he said dryly, before winking at them.

Marie’s cheeks burned, though whether from embarrassment or frustration, she couldn’t say. She tugged Sevrin’s arm and pulled him quickly past the gate before either of them could say something stupider.

Once they were out of earshot, she yanked her arm free and spun on him.

“Really? Lily? Like in Lilithia? Are you fucking insane, you moron?”

Sevrin shrugged, his face still red. “I couldn’t say Marie, could I?”

For a moment she was this close to killing him. He always found new ways to push her over the edge. She sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself.

“Do you only know names you’ve just heard, or what?” she hissed. “What do you think the Princess would say if she knew how we registered ourselves at the entry?”

He shrugged again, completely unfazed. “She probably wouldn’t care. Why would this be a problem? It’s not even her real name. Lily, Lilithia… not close.”

Marie punched him hard on the shoulder.

He winced, looking at her with a wounded expression, but—wisely—said nothing.

As they walked deeper into the city, following the stream of travelers, the road opened into a wide marketplace. Stalls were set up in every corner, colorful cloths stretched overhead to keep the sun off baskets of fruit, racks of dried fish, bolts of fabric, and trinkets of every kind. Around the square stood permanent shops and small taverns, their signs creaking in the breeze. The air was thick with shouting merchants, haggling voices, and the smell of roasted meat.

“Look there,” Marie said, pointing past the crowd toward a larger, more imposing building. Its stone facade was carved with sharp lines, and a polished bronze crest gleamed above the door. “That’s a branch of the Asara Bank. We should try our luck there with the coin.”

But Sevrin shook his head at once. “No. Too risky. Let me try something else first.”

Marie blinked at him, thrown off. “You know I wanted to use my family’s name…”

“Yes,” he interrupted quickly. “And you said you never wanted to use it again. So, let’s do it my way. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll do it yours.”

She stared at him for a moment, surprised. Did he just… take my feelings into account?

Well. That was unexpected. But what exactly was his plan? Would he drag them toward the Mages’ Guild? Or maybe the Adventurers’ Guild, like she had considered earlier?

The market was too loud to ask quietly. Voices clashed everywhere; children shouting, merchants barking, guards calling out warnings. Marie pressed her lips into a thin line. She wasn’t about to scream their business to half the city. Especially not the part about carrying a mithril crown.

So, she swallowed her questions and followed him silently, slipping through the throng of people as they pushed deeper into the city.

Sevrin kept glancing at every sign they passed. The buildings grew larger the further they went. Beyond the Asara Bank branch, there were jewelry shops with glittering displays, goldsmiths with polished works in their windows, and tailors with mannequins draped in fine cloth. The stalls and shouting slowly fell behind, replaced by the steady hum of a wealthier shopping street.

Marie opened her mouth to finally ask what his plan was, but before she could speak, Sevrin stopped. His eyes lit up.

“There! I knew there had to be one. Every big city has one.”

She followed his gaze.

At the end of the cobbled street, the auction hall rose above the other buildings like a monument to wealth. Its facade was both grand and unwelcoming, tall arched windows glittering with light, each pane guarded by wrought-iron bars shaped into curling vines. Thick stone pillars flanked a wide marble stairway, polished smooth by countless steps, leading up to heavy oak doors reinforced with black iron.

“No,” Marie gasped. “Whatever you’re planning—definitely not!”

But Sevrin was already walking straight toward the entrance, his pace quickening like a man finally spotting an oasis in the desert. Marie had no choice but to follow, hurrying at his side.

“Trust me,” he whispered, leaning close as they climbed the marble steps. “I visited the hall in the capital plenty of times when I was still at the academy.”

Marie clenched her teeth. Of course, he did. Always the academy. Always it was: he knew this, he had done that, he had seen it before. But in the end… he was kicked out of his beloved academy. Damn moron.

A uniformed guard stepped forward at the top of the stairs, his polished cuirass glinting in the light. “Welcome. What brings you to the hall today?”

Marie froze. Too late to turn back now. She could only stand beside Sevrin, silently cursing herself for ever trusting him even a little.

The guard’s eyes ran over them. Their clothes were clean enough but didn’t smell of wealth. Maybe he’d just send them away. Marie almost hoped for it. But then Sevrin flashed his arrogant grin.

“I’m a wandering mage,” he said smoothly, “and this is my apprentice.” He pointed at Marie. She pressed her teeth together so hard it hurt, but forced a small nod.

“You see,” Sevrin went on, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper, “we’ve been in the wilderness for some time, researching the arcane. And I… found something worth showing the world. But not here. Not on the street.”

The guard looked skeptical, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Sorry, sir. But we need proof that your words are true. Since you claim you have a mage class, would you mind showing it to me?”

Sevrin grinned wider. “Of course.”

He lifted his hand, palm open. “[Fireball].”

A sphere of flame formed instantly in his hand, bright and hot. The light flickered against the guard’s armor.

The guard stepped back half a pace, then nodded firmly. “All right. I suppose some of the auctioneers will want to speak with a mage if he claims he has something for the hall. You may enter.”

Marie swallowed a curse and bit her tongue. She followed Sevrin as the guard led them up the marble stairs. Damn idiot. At least he’s a little competent as a mage. And mages are rare enough that even a fireball is impressive for most people.

But her mind twisted with worry. What if they demand to see his class with a Pry Stone? What if they check what he really is? His main class is cultist—just like mine. Then we’d be in trouble bigger than I can even imagine.

Her stomach turned. It’s probably true, if I don’t kill him one day, he’ll end up killing me.

She kept silent, walking a step behind Sevrin, past the guard and into the looming auction hall.