“Eight seven, do I see eight eight?”

Just like it had done multiple times before, another hand shot up from the right of the auction's stage.

“The new highest bid is eight hundred and eighty Gildern from the great King of Whiteport. What about eight nine? Anyone willing to offer eight nine?”

“One million!” There, still in the center of the crowd, stood Duke Herak of Balit. As the fight for the rights to his own land had heated up, nothing could hold him in his seat anymore. For a split-second, everyone went silent from the audacious offer, but soon the cheap seats returned to their murmur, while Freigen wrung his hands as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish on dry land. However, the Fastgrade Merchants needed to increase the ludicrous sum even further. From behind the stage, Corco observed Ronnie as he took a deep breath to reignite the fire in their hearts, the ones which had been doused by the duke's ludicrous offer. However, someone had remained unimpressed and was even faster than the alchemist.

“One million and two hundred thousand.”

Seated next to the fretful Doctor Freigen, Valtr of Kaneas showed much more spirit than all others in the room. Still comfortable in his chair, he leaned back, put one leg on the stool in his front and called out his bid, his enunciation impeccably clear. With a smile and a nod, Ronnie acknowledged Valtr's bid on behalf of Eniila.

“The current highest bid is one million and two hundred thousand Gildern. Do I hear mo-”

“One five!” Impatient, a fuming Duke interrupted Ronnie. With his eyes bulging out of his mask, he stared not at the actual auctioneer, or at the current owner of his salt mine, but only at the strange young noble who kept raising the prices. However, Valtr seemed uninterested in Herak's intimidation, or in Herak's wishes.

“One seven.” A small smile formed around Valtr's lips.

“Nonsense!” Herak shouted in response, a trembling finger pointed towards the foreign dignitary. “No matter how little Eniila has spent so far, it is impossible for them to have this much money readied in Etra!”

In response, Hieronymus Bombasticus put on a smile as fake as his name.

“Lord Herak, please. Everything today has been done to order. Whether or not our bidders are capable of paying should be the concern of the Fastgrade Merchant Company.”

At last the Duke stared up to the stage and put the merchants in his sight.

“According to rules established by your own company, any Gilderns used in the auction needs to be present in Etra at the day of the auction! Yet here are Eniila, Cahlia and Whiteport, three lordships perfectly allowed to ignore your own rules! Oath breakers is what you are, the lot of you!”

Rather than Ronnie, this time Brym stepped forward with a disarming smile.

“Duke Herak, it is very unfortunate that Milord did not acquire enough funds to keep up with his competitors, but I can guarantee on my life and honor that the same rules were applied to any participants in our auction.”

“Lies and trickery! Do not believe for a moment that this lord will be fooled by these, these...” as the lord of Balit was huffing and puffing away, Fadelio got ready to step to the front of the stage. If the grandstanding duke lost his head, he would have to subdue the raging bear. However, a simple shake of Corco's head was enough to call back the warrior. After he had done his part for deescalation, the prince looked back to the stage, towards the little brother he had raised over the past five years.

“Duke Herak,” the young man replied with the same patient voice as before, “every man who sits here today has proven that they possess the funds they have bid so far. In fact, all present lordships decided to store their own funds within a warehouse of the Fastgrade Merchant Company for safekeeping, all except the Kingdom of Borna of course. This is something easy to check and easy to prove. Our Company is about to begin its next great undertaking, so we have no leisure to let people bid beyond measure, especially if they do not have the means to pay us back. We are too busy acquiring additional funds to be held back by petty revenge.”

Although steam still blew from the duke's head, his chest heaving up and down, one calm thought would tell him that the merchant prince wouldn't risk losing money over some squabble, and that he wouldn't ruin his reputation over it either. Even though violent conflict had only been just averted, Brym still retained his merchant's smile.

“Rather than being worried about the honorable dignitaries from Eniila, Cahlia and Whiteport, we are far more concerned with Milord himself. Although Duke Herak has brought considerable coin with him to Etra, the current bids, together with the price to be paid from previous acquisitions, add up to more than the worth of Duke Herak's possessions currently held within the city limits.”

When he himself became the victim of accusations, the duke's jaw jutted out from under his mask, as the man did his best to not explode and give the merchants further excuse to disadvantage him. Small red cracks formed on either of his cheeks, where his skin began to rupture from the tension built up over the past hour. Even his most venomous stare wasn't enough to shake Brym's tranquility.

“That's my boy.” Corco was so proud him.

At last Herak understood that without his army, any attempts at intimidation would fail, or maybe he had simply given in to the pressure around him. No matter what his reasoning was, the duke turned to the side, over to Devaerter, and did what Corco had hoped for all day.

“Hand me that damned paper!” With a snarl, the duke snatched away the contract he had previously declined, one which would take most of his wealth, down to his own personal fleet, if he failed to make enough money back in the following years. With aggressive movements, he signed the paper, the coal pencil almost breaking the thick sheep skin in the process. However little he wanted to risk his wealth, he had no choice at this point. As soon as the pencil's tip had left its mark behind, he stared back up towards Brym, towards the front of the stage.

“The Kingdom of Borna bids two million Gildern. There, are you satisfied?”

Throughout the entire ordeal, Brym held the same warm smile as before.

“Of course. Since all of master Devaerter's assets are already within Etra, there is no reason to doubt his credibility. After all, master Devaerter is well-reputed throughout the south.”

Backstage, Corco barely managed to stifle a laugh as he heard the little kid casually insult the great southern lord. The next part would be even better.

“Two point one.”

Once again the calm voice of Valtr rang out, and once again it sparked a reaction from Herak!

“Bastard! One more bet out of you and I will spend my remaining lifetime to wipe out every member of your rotten family, down to the last child!”

At last, Valtr himself lost his cool. His family threatened, the northern lord jumped up, with his hand on the short sword by his side.

“If you wish to fight, southern brute, you are free to try your luck in a duel. Come, barbarian, and taste Eniila's steel!”

In panic, the cheap seats cleared out as all the merchants in between Valtr and Herak tried to make way in the face of the inevitable clash between two beasts. A low growl escaped Herak's throat as he lowered his torso, ready for a charge. However, before the auction could be turned into a battlefield, a sudden bang stopped both sides in their tracks. From behind the stage emerged Atau, a smoking pistol held up in his left, and an enormous mace shouldered on his right.

“It's an auction house, not a damn arena. You wanna make a bid, please do. Otherwise, I'll have to ask you to leave.” With a crooked smile and a bold stance, the fearless captain answered the aggression of the nobles. Time stretched as lord Herak and Captain Atau stared each other down, locked together like swords in a duel. Slowly, step by step, the wolf guards placed around the room's corners closed their circle as well. Outnumbered and surrounded, it was the duke who broke first.

“Two point five million.” he hissed from between his clenched teeth. It was all the money he had brought, plus all the money he had loaned. As tension sought a path of escape, the small cracks around Herak's cheeks broke way and turned into streams of blood, dripping down onto the expensive wood floor.

With a sneer for an answer, Valtr sat back down and crossed his legs in pretend comfort.

“Looks like it's your win, bumbling bear.”

Red droplets sprayed the seats as the duke's head snapped back over to his earlier target. For another tense moment, Herak only stared, before he turned to leave the auction house without a further word.

“Sold!” Ronnie's voice rang out before Herak could no longer hear him. “For two point five million to lord Herak of Balit for the Kingdom of Borna!”

“Ahaha! Fuck, I'm dying.”

Behind the scenes, Corco was already doubled over from laughter when the gavel rang out. With tears in his eyes, he held onto the tapestry to prevent his own fall. Everyone around him must have thought he was crazy, but at this moment, he really didn't care anymore. Every time he managed to calm himself down, he thought back to Herak's impotent reactions and exploded into laughter once again. It was a release worthy of their achievement. At last they had reached their goal, at last they had taken revenge on the Duke of Balit. Only after a long time did Corco manage to regain his faculties.

“Boss, some tea.” As soon as he had calmed down, the prince looked up and saw one of his accountants stand ready with a wooden cup of steaming tea.

“Ah, thank you.” To quench the thirst left behind by his excessive exercise, the boss downed the drink in one go. While he still relished in the refreshment, he looked over to his employee, who stood by with an awkward face.

“Where is everyone?” Corco asked.

“Ah, Sir Dedrick, the captain and Fadelio all went over to the harbor, to make sure Duke Herak would not run away with our gold coins.” The young accountant did what he could do best and counted the names up with his fingers. “Brymstock has taken the workers to clean out the venue and take stock of our earnings, while master Bombasticus has been entertaining the foreign dignitaries inside the grand salon.”

“We should go too.”

This was trouble. Even after they had achieved a goal, there was still much work to be done. Now aware of his own faux-pas, Corco righted his posture and marched straight past the accountant.

“Boss,” the man asked with trepidation in his voice, as he tried to keep up with Corco's swift steps.

“Speak up,” the prince simply said.

“I understand that the company's goal has been to take revenge on Duke Herak's greed towards the former master Fastgrade, but... did we truly achieve revenge?”

For a moment, Corco stopped and turned.

“There are two things Duke Herak cares about more than anything: His reputation and his money. We took the first at the walls of Etra and in the Saline Hills. We took the second today. For what Herak has done, that should be punishment enough, I think.”

As if to confirm his own conclusion, Corco nodded and began his march towards the salon again.

“But... but boss,” the persistent voice replied from behind, “even though Duke Herak will not have any wealth for now, he is in possession of the invaluable secrets of Brandy and sugar production. Soon, he will be richer than ever before.”

Again Corco halted, but this time because he had reached his goal. His hand on the door handle, he turned and looked at his employee with a smile.

“I think we should go over the mechanics of supply and demand again, looks like that lesson didn't stick. Go help Brym sort out the aftermath, I'm good here.”

Ignoring his employee's embarrassed face, the prince opened the door and stepped inside, to the view of Ronnie who sat on a comfortable chair and enjoyed some cake and tea. Around him were all the allies who had made Herak's defeat possible. However, rather than celebrate their victory, they were all immersed in the pieces of paper before them. Sporting a genuine smile, Corco looked over his co-conspirators. There sat Doctor Freigen, Valtr of Kaneas, Margrave Hakon of Cahlia and, of course, master Kohlbrandt Devaerter. As Corco marched over, his old merchant ally looked up from his letter and waved it towards the prince.

“This would be it then?”

“Yup,” Corco answered. “Detailed instructions for the production of sugar and Brandy. One for each of you. I even made sure to make the instructions much, much more detailed than the ones the duke will get. With more knowledge and more starting funds, it should be easy to beat him out and dominate these new markets. Congratulations, it's what you wanted all this time.”

With his face pointed at the floor, the merchant shuffled around in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

“I did never-”

“No, it's fine. I get it, and I don't mind. After today, we'll be working in different industries anyways, so to speak. So there's no more reason for conflict. Now, we can just be friends.”

Relieved, the merchant put on a smile and nodded his head.

“So it is true that you intend to leave the continent? Life in Etra will be strange without the Fastgrade merchants.”

With a sigh, Corco spent a moment to look over the fancy salon, the expensive carpets and the goblets made of clear glass, over all the things they had achieved here, in his second home. Finally, his view turned towards the window, towards the endlessly expansive world outside.

“I'm the emperor after all. It's time to go home and claim my title.”