Chapter 32: The Weight of a Thousand Tales
As the attendant brought out Reyn's first item—a sleek, unassuming practice sword—he raised it high for the audience to see.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the attendant began, his voice amplified across the auction hall, "we present an item crafted by the mysterious, newly famous Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales! This isn't just any practice sword. It's imbued with a revolutionary magic he calls 'gravity magic.' This allows the sword to shift in weight, from as light as a feather… to as heavy as a mountain!"
He gestured to a nearby assistant, who stepped forward, gripping the sword carefully. The attendant spoke a command word, and the assistant's arms visibly sagged as the sword suddenly became incredibly heavy. A murmur ran through the crowd as the assistant strained to lift it an inch, veins bulging as he struggled under the intense weight. Then, with another command, the sword lightened, and the assistant lifted it effortlessly, holding it up with just two fingers.
Gasps and awed whispers spread through the audience. Nobles exchanged excited looks, and several lifted their bidding paddles immediately.
"This sword's weight can be adjusted with a simple command," the attendant continued, smiling at the crowd's reaction. "Perfect for those in training—or even in combat—for building strength and skill. Starting bid at 2,500 gold!"
One noble woman, eyes sparkling, raised her paddle. "2,700!"
Another noble quickly followed. "3,000!"
The dwarves, sitting in their own booth, watched closely, intrigued. One leaned forward and murmured to his neighbor, "That's the same smith, isn't it? The one who made Edger's blade."
"Aye," the dwarf beside him grunted, nodding. "This 'gravity magic'... could be useful if he's perfected it. Let's get a closer look."
A dwarf with a bushy red beard raised his paddle, his deep voice booming across the hall. "3,500!"
The nobles glanced at the dwarves, some clearly reluctant to back down. Another raised his paddle. "3,700!"
The bidding escalated quickly, with dwarves and nobles fiercely competing, each recognizing the value of the gravity magic. Reyn watched in amazement, struggling to hide his grin. His creation was drawing attention from all sides.
One dwarf finally called out, "5,000!" His tone was one of finality, as if daring anyone else to go higher.
The noble who'd been bidding paused, a flicker of frustration on his face before he lowered his paddle in defeat. The auctioneer looked around, eyes wide with excitement. "We have 5,000 gold from the esteemed dwarven delegation. Going once… going twice… sold!"
The dwarves shared satisfied nods, and Reyn leaned back, thrilled. Garret nudged him, chuckling. "You've got the dwarves' attention now. That's no small feat."
Reyn whispered back, "And that's exactly what I wanted. They're the masters of metalwork here. If they're impressed, it means a lot."
The crowd was still buzzing as the attendant announced the next item. Reyn was eager to see how his second creation would fare but already felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
One dwarf murmured to another, "If this is what he makes for practice swords, imagine what he could do with the right materials."
Another nodded, muttering, "We need to learn more about this Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales. He might be worth recruiting... or at least, we need to know if he'll be a competitor."
Reyn overheard none of this, of course, but the glint in the dwarves' eyes was unmistakable.
The auction hall fell silent as the attendant carefully brought out the next item—a simple sword handle resting on a velvet cloth. A murmur spread across the audience as nobles, dwarves, and other attendees eyed the unusual artifact with curiosity and confusion.
"Is this a mistake?" one noble scoffed, his voice dripping with skepticism. "A handle with no blade?"
The attendant smiled politely and raised his hand to calm the murmurs. "Ladies and gentlemen, what you see here may seem simple, but it is anything but. This is another rare creation by the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales, crafted with a unique magic that defies conventional understanding. Though it appears incomplete, this blade is unlike any other."
The crowd stilled, hanging on his words. The attendant continued, "This handle, when introduced to monster blood, will form a full blade. Not only does it take shape from the blood, but it also repairs itself by absorbing more, meaning it's practically indestructible in battle."
He gestured to an assistant, who entered the stage holding a bucket of thick, dark monster blood. "To demonstrate, please watch carefully."
The assistant dipped the sword handle into the bucket, and within moments, the crowd gasped as the blood began to coalesce around the handle, forming a solid, gleaming iron blade that looked both brutal and elegant.
"Astonishing…" muttered one of the dwarves, his eyes wide with admiration.
"Imagine the possibilities," whispered Count Malstron to his companion, his gaze locked onto the blade as he weighed its potential for endless use and self-repair. "With such a weapon, a soldier could fight without fear of their blade breaking."
The attendant cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back. "The starting bid for this Bloodbound Blade is 2,500 gold."
Immediately, a dwarf raised his hand. "Two thousand five hundred!" he called.
A noblewoman in another booth countered. "Two thousand eight hundred!"
A bidding war quickly erupted, and the intensity in the room escalated.
"Three thousand two hundred!" shouted another noble.
"Three thousand five hundred!" one of the dwarves countered, determination hardening his features.
Reyn, watching from his booth, could feel his heart race. Though he kept a calm exterior, seeing his creation in demand among such powerful people gave him a thrill he hadn't anticipated.
Beside him, Garrett whispered, "Looks like everyone wants a piece of the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales."
Reyn smirked under his hood. "Good. The more they want it, the more they'll value it."
Back on the stage, the bids continued to climb.
"Four thousand!" Count Malstron declared with a smug smile.
The dwarves huddled together, conferring in hushed voices before one of them stepped forward. "Four thousand five hundred!" he shouted, throwing a fierce look at the count's booth.
Count Malstron leaned forward, his fingers tapping the armrest of his chair as he considered. "Five thousand," he said finally, his voice calm but commanding.
The dwarves hesitated, exchanging a look of respect mixed with frustration. After a brief discussion, they reluctantly backed down, and the attendant's voice rang out, "Sold! To Count Malstron for five thousand gold!"
The count leaned back, satisfied, while Reyn observed quietly, taking in the scene. "They may think they're buying my work now," he thought to himself, "but in time, they'll understand that the real value lies beyond gold."
Garrett patted Reyn's shoulder, grinning. "Looks like that's another win for the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales."