The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the crowed hall. Side conversations were quickly silenced by the vigor left in his voice. “We’ve drawn quite a crowd for these final two items up for auction tonight. It has been a long day. There have been many items won and lost today with a few altercations sprinkled in for entertainment. All that has happened so far was just a prelude for what we have to offer now. For, we are down to the final two items that all of you are here to see and offer bids upon.”
A round of cheers rang through the crowd. Some members stood to stretch their aching backs and legs. It had been a long day and the hard wooden seats had done their backsides no favors.
“Due to the nature of our final objects up for auction, we will not offer them up for display. It’s not that we don’t trust you, it’s just, well, we don’t trust you at all.” The audience laughed and nodded in approval. “The great importance of the Galachir weapons dictates we keep them under lock and guard at the mansion up the hill. The lucky winner will be able to retrieve them after the auction. Now, do I have a starting bid of twenty-five thousand?”
“Here,” one voice rang out.
“Twenty-six,” another shouted.
“Twenty-seven,” quickly followed.
“Fifty thousand,” Arlin shouted out. Then he whispered to his comrades who shot him glares for the large early bet, “Relax, I’m just showing our dominance.”
After a short pause filled with murmurs from the crowd, the old man spoke up. “Seventy thousand.”
“I got this under control,” Arlin whispered to his friends before standing and announcing, “One hundred thousand.”
The old man let the murmurs fill the hall for a moment before standing and calmly saying, “One hundred and fifty thousand.”
Arlin looked at the other five young men for guidance. Firae shot the prince a look of death. The Mallvrann elves did not give enough coin to go any higher.
“It is your bid, young sir,” the smiling auctioneer said.