“Your silence would be appreciated during this bidding war. Bidders must use their essence to inscribe their bid on the floating tablet before them.”
A crystal tablet appeared out of thin air in front of each woman as Nyx spoke. Jerome smiled softly at the casual display of power. He was putting a lot into this auction because it wasn’t just about the auction, it was about demonstrating power, and the ease with which he could use it. This was his void space after all, a place where he could do anything. He was a god-like being in this domain.
“The highest valid bid is revealed after each round. Each bid must exceed the previous one by one out of ten parts. Once the bid is made, it cannot be withdrawn; the essence imprint binds the bidder’s intent…”
Achilleia had introduced that one herself, and he was glad she did.
“Each round of bid consists of three attempts to raise the bid for a win. The participants can choose to war it out which will trigger more than three attempts to win the bid. However, if a participant is outbid in all three attempts, they lose that round of bids to their opponent. And lastly, no external interference. Any attempt to disrupt or manipulate the auction will be met with retribution.”
She narrowed her eyes at both Sages and he could tell her threat was quite effective. Jerome smiled to himself, pleased. Selene sat up in her seat and glared at him questioningly. He resisted the urge to placate her, or explain himself away. That wouldn’t speak ‘power’ like he wanted, so he just smirked at her.
“You can drop out of the bidding now, it’s not too late.”
The First Matron scoffed. “We’re already here. Why drop out when the prizes are so close.”
He turned to the Matriarch.
“I don’t mind the rules. In fact, I support them.”
“Urgh, mother! Don’t encourage him!” Selene groaned beside her. “I thought you said you’re my friend, Jerome. Why make up all these strict rules for my mother?”
“It seems you’re yet to understand the principles of business engagement, my ‘friend’, Selene.”
Nia chuckled as he stressed the word ‘friend’. Selene glared at her and she held back her laugh. Jerome ignored them and gestured for Nyx to continue. With a flick of her wrist, the first group of horses were projected before everyone.
“The rules are set. The first bid shall be cast. May Mother Nature bear witness to the strength of your convictions.”
A silent tension filled the air as the first bid was made. The Matron flicked her first finger and a streak of white-blue essence flashed into the tablet in front of her.
“Two hundred mids by the First Matron,” Nyx announced. “Do I get a raise?”
The Matriarch smirked. With a flick of her index finger, ice-blue essence flared, dropping the temperature of their immediate surrounding to the negatives for a few seconds. Jerome was impressed. It seemed he had one ally who was also aiming to impress him with her power.
“Two hundred and twenty mids. Do I get a 242?”
On his left, the First Matron took a deep breath to calm her anger. He could smell her frustration. On the outside, she looked as calm as a still pond. She flicked her finger and took the bid.
The bid escalated. The numbers soared past 300 mids. Then 500. The Itakars became excited, applauding whenever the Matriarch met the bid. Then the Matriarch sat up to look in the direction of the Matron.
“Tell me, First Matron, of what use are these horses to you? The Academia is hardly known for its calvary.” The Matriarch’s voice was laced with amusement.
“Ah, but power is not only in war, Lady Itakar. With enough research, Vorthe could begin breeding these majestic beasts, don’t you think?”
“Hmm. But I hear you’ve been trying that for ages now, among other things.” The Matriarch sat back with a look of contemplation. “Tell me where are the results of those years of hard work?”
Oh, that was low. Jerome did not see that coming.
“Oh, you must have heard we took samples from dead horses for that research.” with a forceful flick, the First Matron’s essence hit the tablet, vibrating as lightning arced around it. “Of course, that would fail.”
The air became super-charged and the hairs on everyone’s head rose. Selene and her teammates freaked out in their seats but Jerome raised a hand and neutralized the charge in the air.
“Please exercise restraint, bidders.” Nyx’s gaze shifted to the Matron, staying on her for a moment. And then at the Matriarch. The meaning was clear: don’t do that again. “600 mids.”
Jerome had no illusions about what Nyx could do to them if they tried that again. He had given her some level of authority over this portion of the void space so she could control things.
“She’d suppress their core so that they could only summon a trickle of essence, all they would need for the bidding,” Achilleia said.
That would be something to see. Jerome chuckled to himself.
A hush had fallen over their little group as a result of Nyx’s words. The Matriarch was in contemplation and the First Matron awaited her response. Soon, the Matriarch looked up and smiled.
“You have won this round, Sheela. Enjoy your new beasts.”
Nyx sealed the essence contracts. Somewhere inside the gigantic obstacles, in a back room of sorts, the horses were moved. Jerome was sure the Sages were monitoring them as well. They moved onto the next herd of twenty horses as the projections were changed and the bidding war continued. It went on into the night. A thousand horses were a lot and Jerome had made sure to group them in herds containing horses of varying capabilities. There were a few specific horses he was sure the ladies were waiting to see. Some of which were faster than others.
Draft horses by nature weren’t bred for speed and endurance, but these six came close. They were large, but not as bulky as the others and couldn’t pull as much weight. But they could gallop for an extended period of time, not as much as horses bred for endurance and speed, but more than the traditional draft breeds. It was like whoever bred them did so to make them a hybrid of sorts.
The time came to bring in one of them. The moment the projections lit up around the floating platform, both ladies sat up straighter.
“What do you think of this particular horse? The one with less muscle, I mean,” he asked both of them.
“They are called warmbloods?” both women answered at the same time. But the Ice Matriarch conceded, gesturing for the Matron to continue.
“They are the product of a crossbreed between drafts and lightweights, those are thoroughbreds, to make for lightweight draughts. And as the Matriarch stated before, they are bred with essence, genetically enhanced to tread in places normal horses can’t. We could hate the Church as much as we want, but it cannot be said that they are inefficient or ineffective in what they do.” She sat up to look at the Matriarch. “I would leave this one to you Matriarch, but the other five…? Let’s see how much you’re willing to spend tonight. I hope your purse can survive what’s coming.”
“I will take this easy win then.” The Matriarch smiled. Since there was no bidding done for this herd, the auctioneer, Nyx, set the price at 700 mids. The Matriarch still had to use her essence to claim them though.
Jerome took a deep breath and exhaled. They were down to five rounds. Both ladies had expended a lot of coins to clean out the horses. They were almost tied in their bids, with the Matriarch ahead by forty horses.
“She needs those horses more than the Matron, Jerome,” Achilleia said. “Winter in the north is not one sacred artists take lightly.”
I understand.
Their little audience had gone completely silent as the air crackled with tension and excitement. The Sages weren’t spending a lot of money — at least not by his standards and theirs, but there was something exciting about seeing the one in your corner win.
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The Matriarch had a smirk plastered on her face as they waited for the next projections. The moment they came on, she flicked her finger, shooting a strand of ice-cold essence into the crystal tablet in front of her.
“One thousand mids?” The Matron smiled. “It seems you’re ready to do battle now.”
“Did you think that I was being serious before?” The Matriarch laughed. “Let us see what you can throw at that, Sheela.”
The Matron flicked her finger as well and her own score was displayed before them all in an instant.
“1,500 mids,” Nyx declared. The Matriarch flicked her finger next and their little audience gasped in awe. “2,000 mids.”
The Matron flicked her finger yet again. “Hmph! I can do this all day, Matriarch!”
“2800 mids,” Nyx declared. “Do I get a raise?”
The Ice Matriarch leaned forward and looked at her opponent. “You bid like one possessed, Matron. Surely, you do not intend to train warhorses at your Academia?”
Jerome looked at the Matron questioningly as well. Though he saw the appeal of genetically enhanced horses like these, and what rabbit hole a researcher like the Matron could thrust herself into trying to make more of them or whatever she wanted them for, there was no reason to purchase this much. He hadn’t even expected her to buy more than one or two herds.
But the Matron just tilted her head slightly, meeting the Matriarch’s gaze with cool amusement. “A wise woman prepares for all possibilities, even those she does not announce.”
“Do you plan to breed enhanced draught horses too then?” Jerome asked.
“That has always been the goal, Jerome, not that we have once succeeded. If we can succeed with this, we can succeed with figuring out divine energy.” The Matron looked at him with a sad smile. “Not that you’d understand divine energy.”
Jerome smiled back at her. “You mean ascended energy, right?” Her brows rose in surprise. Even the Matriarch was listening to their discussion. “I’ve been studying it too, and I understand that it is more devastating than what we wield.”
“Jerome was able to overload Messengers in the jungle, causing them to conflagrate from the inside out,” Ajax said. He hadn’t spoken a word since he sat down and it was surprising hearing him speak. “For some reason, their divine energy couldn’t prevent the overload.”
“That’s wrong, Ajax. The Messenger’s have runes inscribed on their bones that help them absorb essence. Although, those are also powered by the divine energy in their blood. It’s the runes I overloaded with essence.”
“Huh.” He looked stumped. “I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about the Messengers then.”
Their conversation went into a lull as the bidding resumed. As the fourth-to-last round began, the First Matron wasted no time. She flicked her finger at the crystal tablet and it lit up.
“A thousand five hundred mids,” Nyx announced. “I see the Matron is starting strong in this round. Do I get a raise?”
The Matriarch slightly grit her teeth in frustration, even though she had a smile plastered on her face. She flicked her finger, lighting up her crystal tablet as well.
“1700 mids,” Nyx announced.
Jerome’s interest deepened. Was the Matriarch reaching her limit? The Matron flicked her finger next with a bright smile on her face and their audience gasped as they saw the result.
“3000 thousand mids!” Nyx declared. She looked at the Matriarch who was openly frowning now. “Do I get a raise?”
“Well…?” The Matron had a smug look on her face. The Matriarch kept her frown, and a cute little pout, looking straight ahead.
“If there are no more raises, this round goes to the Matron!”
~~~
As it turned out, the Matron cleared the remaining three rounds. Arwen Itakar’s glare deepened throughout the bidding that Jerome worried she was going to attack her opponent. But nothing of the sort happened for which he was grateful. Two Sages fighting in his domain could put holes in the foundation he was trying to build as one Vorthe’s power house.
“It’s not like Mother couldn’t pay for the warmbloods, you know?” Selene grumbled as they exited his void space. “It’s just that that damn Matron has Vorthe’s vast resources to pull from. A few thousand mids, or even highs, is nothing to the Itakars. But to spend them on draft horses is unwise.”
“Hmm.” Jerome nodded in pretend agreement. “But it just goes to show who took the horses as more important, don’t you think?”
Selene and her teammates looked at him with shock and a little hurt. His words deflated them instantly — and angered Selene.
“Are you saying we don’t see those horses as important?”
“No, not really,” he answered, unfazed by her anger. “I’m sure you have need of them just as much, or if not more, than the Matron. But she was willing to go the extra mile to purchase them. You have other options, she doesn’t. This was her one chance to own the elusive breed of horses bred using divine energy.”
“Well, if you put it that way—”
Sacred artists dropped out of the sky in front of them with a loud boom, raising a cloud of dust filled with essence. Everyone was startled at their entrance. Jerome moved to guard the Matriarch and Matron but they held their hands up, gesturing for him to stop.
“So you caught wind of this, general. Hmm. It seems you are quite capable.” The Matron nodded her head in appreciation. She waved her hand and the air was stirred into a gale, blowing the dust cloud away.
Jerome took in the appearance of the new arrivals. They looked like the military, even though they were dressed like ordinary civilian sacred artists. They were all alert, eyes scanning the field before them for threats. Their robes were in a variety of colors but they looked smart, their auras making them stand out even more.
These are no mere sacred soldiers, are they, Achilleia?
“No, Xerae. They’re an elite squad. They are all in the late stages of the Spirit Realm.”
So True Pillars, huh. Rihal is at the Gold Pillar stage, or as they say, he has a ‘gold root’, am I correct? Tsk! They never mention these things in normal conversation so it’s quite difficult to put the right terms in sentences.
“Yes, Xerae. But Pillars will only talk about these things with other Pillars or those more advanced.”
I see…
Someone walked out of the group. The black eyes and long black hair gave away his heritage immediately — a Vorthe. He was dressed differently though, choosing not to wear a robe above his leather cuirass. His exposed arms were huge and ripped with muscles and he proudly wore his battle scars like a trophy — and Jerome could see the scars were new. They still had a faint pinkish colour to them. A sword hung from a belt he wore at the waist and the leather pants he was spotting served to confuse people of his heritage.
But this was no mere sacred artist. He was a Sage. But unlike Ivar Vorthe whose presence was subdued, and even the Matron’s and the Matriarch’s, his was sending Jerome’s senses to alarm. This Sage was dangerous, even though he looked to only be in his late twenties. He had to be weary of the man.
“I am pleased I made it on time, Matron,” the newcomer said with a dashing smile as he walked toward them. “To think you would lay hold on something so significant and tell no one about it.”
“I only got hold of a few hundred of them. The Matriarch has a lot more.” She scoffed and looked away.
“Well, I care not for what the Matriarch possesses, Matron. Only what you possess. In the name of the Sovereign, I, General Keno Vorthe, demand that you submit all the Therrican Draughts in your possession.”
He released the full power of his aura in an instant. But to his surprise and amusement, nothing happened to anyone standing. He looked from the Sages to all the Sprouts before him.
Are you kidding me? Jerome asked himself, stupefied.
“Nope! Don’t think he can hear you, Xerae. And even if he can, I don’t think he is kidding.”
Is this the person I’ll be making the next batch of rifles for? This unbearably arrogant buffoon!
There was no way he could work with someone like this. Vorthe better find a middle man, else they can say goodbye to the next batch of rifles.
Achilleia chuckled. “He’ll try to bend you to his will, that’s for sure. But I don’t think he’s all that bad.”
“Interesting.” The general chuckled. “So the rumors are true then. Itakar’s Sprouts can now withstand the full weight of a Sage’s aura.”
“Wonderful, right?” The Matriarch beamed at her daughter and pulled her into a hug. “It’s so wonderful that I am able to hold my baby girl like this, and not just for short periods of time.” Selene struggled and grumbled, trying to get out of her mother’s iron embrace to no avail.
It was like the Matriarch was uncaring of the fact they were having a showdown — not that it concerned her. If Vorthe’s Sages wanted to fight to the death, she wouldn’t lift a finger, probably. But the fallout would be catastrophic. The Sprouts wouldn’t be spared.
“I hope you realize who you speak to, general?” The Matron glared at him. “My research is just as important, if not more important, than whatever it is you might need them for.”
“My Blanks are dying in the deadlands like chaff before a sickle! You would hold onto those horses even knowing that?!”
The Matron looked away with a glare. “I never said I didn’t care for the lives being wasted, Keno. That’s why I’m doing this. The horses are magnificent and can be of great help to you, yes. But they would just die in battle. I can help Vorthe study them so we can get a steady supply of them forever. Isn’t that better?”
Jerome began walking away. His movement stopped both Sages in their tracks and they turned to watch him go.
“And where do you think you’re going?” The general asked.
“I’m of no importance to you,” he said. “Neither will I be of any use to you in your argument.”
“Hold on.” The general put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. His men stood in front of him to block his path.
Jerome stopped and glared back at the general. “Take your hand off me.”
The general scoffed. He was a tall man but Jerome was taller. He leaned in close and whispered, “You might be the man of the moment, Dark One, but you’re still under the law of the great Empire of Vorthe! And that law dictates that the military takes precedence during times of war. Remember that.”
He took his hand off and Jerome walked away. There was no need to blow things out of proportion, but he wouldn’t be working with General Keno. That much was clear.
