Chapter 33: The Bloodbound Blade
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."
Then the anticipation in the auction hall was almost tangible as the final item—a dwarven sword of legendary craftsmanship—was revealed. The attendant carefully lifted the blade from its velvet cushion, and every eye in the room followed the glint of the polished steel.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, voice reverberating through the room, "you are about to witness the pinnacle of dwarven forging: a sword capable of transforming into multiple weapons at the will of its user. Crafted with a fusion of ancient dwarven magic and unmatched metallurgy, this is a weapon unlike any other."
He gestured to his assistant, a seasoned mercenary, who stepped forward and took the sword from the attendant. With a focused look, the mercenary gripped the hilt and willed the sword to change. In an instant, the blade shifted with a low hum, morphing into a war axe that seemed both fearsome and flawless. A ripple of awe moved through the crowd.
"By the gods…" murmured a noble from a nearby booth. "How is such a transformation even possible?"
The mercenary raised the axe and let it shift back into a longsword, then into a slender spear, each transformation seamless and astonishing. Nobles leaned forward in their seats, their faces illuminated by the reflections of the blade.
In Reyn's booth, he couldn't help but feel a thrill at seeing the weapon in action. "So, it's true," he whispered, captivated by the elegance and versatility of the dwarven blade. "They managed to merge both practicality and power."
Beside him, Garrett raised an eyebrow. "You're still planning to bid, right?"
"Of course," Reyn replied, voice firm. "If there's any weapon worth studying, it's this one."
The attendant, pleased by the audience's reactions, lifted his hand to signal the start of the bidding. "Starting price for this legendary dwarven weapon is five thousand gold!" he declared.
The first bids came swiftly, with nobles from nearly every booth vying for a chance to own such a prize.
"Six thousand!" shouted a nobleman, barely a second after the opening price was announced.
"Seven thousand!" echoed another, the excitement building as numbers rose rapidly.
Reyn joined in as the bidding passed eight thousand. "Eight thousand five hundred," he called calmly, keeping his face shrouded by the hood of his cloak. He was careful to maintain a calm demeanor, aware that he might attract unwanted attention if he seemed overly eager.
Amid the flurry of bids, Reyn noticed Count Malstron glancing in his direction, though the count had no idea who the hooded figure was. With a subtle nod to his own retinue, Malstron raised the bid yet again.
"Ten thousand gold," the count announced, his tone arrogant as if daring anyone to challenge him.
The nobles who had been bidding hesitated, aware of the count's influence and status. Most of them knew it was unwise to go against him, so one by one, they lowered their hands, ceding the bidding to the count.
But Reyn remained undeterred. With the recent sales of his own crafted items, he now had seventeen thousand gold—a comfortable reserve.
"Eleven thousand!" Reyn called out, his voice clear.
Count Malstron narrowed his eyes, visibly irritated by this continued challenge. Leaning forward, he sneered, "Eleven thousand five hundred."
Reyn maintained his calm facade. "Twelve thousand," he replied, just as smoothly.
At that, a murmur spread across the room. The count's hand dropped to his side, his expression darkening with frustration. It was clear he was nearing his financial limit, especially after the hefty sums he had spent on earlier items. He scowled, but he couldn't raise the bid further without compromising his own financial standing.
The attendant's voice cut through the murmurs in the hall. "Twelve thousand gold! Going once… going twice… Sold to the gentleman in the hooded cloak!"
Applause erupted as the hammer fell, sealing the sale. Reyn let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction, and Garrett clapped him on the back with a grin. "Congratulations, Reyn! That blade's worth every coin."
Reyn nodded, feeling the thrill of accomplishment. "With this sword, I'll have a chance to understand dwarven craftsmanship on a whole new level."
Meanwhile, Count Malstron's face contorted in barely contained anger. He gestured discreetly to one of his guards, a tall, grim man dressed in dark leather. Leaning in close, the count whispered, his voice filled with malice. "Find out who that stranger is. I want that sword, no matter what. Do you understand?"
The guard gave a curt nod, his eyes narrowing as he glanced toward Reyn's booth. "As you wish, my lord."
Oblivious to the count's plotting, Reyn was enjoying the triumph of his purchase, discussing the finer points of the weapon with Garrett.
"A dwarven weapon with transformative magic… It's like something from a myth," Garrett marveled.
"It is," Reyn agreed. "But now, I get to see if I can unlock some of those secrets myself."