The stroll through the bazaar was uneventful after their visit to the jewellery booth. Whilst they encountered a wide variety of species – kaerods, mornes, abdigans, vauhins, and even thorahks – everyone seemed to abide strictly by the area's non-violence law.
Linry couldn't help but marvel. She had never seen a place where such diverse cultures coexisted, all seemingly at peace with one another.
'This is getting boring,' she muttered, noticing how the stalls were starting to feel repetitive, as though she had seen them all before. 'Is there anything interesting we can do here?'
Riniock thought for a moment, sifting through his memories. 'There used to be something in that direction,' he said, pointing down a less-travelled path. 'But I'm not sure if it's still there.'
'What kind of thing?' she asked, her curiosity piqued.
'It's better if I show you,' Riniock replied, stepping forward and gesturing for her to follow. 'If I'm remembering correctly, it should be this way.'
As they ventured deeper into the bazaar, the atmosphere began to shift. The alleys grew darker with each step, the once-bright lanterns fading to a dim glow. Their hues became strange and otherworldly, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
The stone beneath their feet showed signs of neglect – cracked, chipped, and in some places entirely missing. The stalls they passed now were far from the vibrant displays they had seen earlier; these were shabby and grimy, their tents worn and tattered. The vendors themselves looked rougher, their gazes wary and their demeanours shadier.
'W-Where are you taking me, Riniock?' Linry stammered, her voice betraying her unease as the unsettling surroundings closed in.
'To an auction,' Riniock said quietly, his head darting in several directions as though checking for something.
'An auction?' Linry repeated, her curiosity piqued.
'It's not a regular auction,' he replied cryptically. 'You'll understand once we get there.'
Before long, something unusual came into view. In the middle of a massive clearing stood an enormous tent, its size dwarfing the structures around it. The tent was an explosion of colours, an odd contrast to the drab surroundings. Despite its tattered state, the intricate design suggested it had once been grand. From their vantage point, Linry could see that the centre of the tent was open to the sky – or ceiling in this case.
At the entrance, two guards stood watch, flanking a set of stairs that led down a narrow, shadowy path.
'Morning, gentlemen,' Riniock greeted the guards casually.
'One solari per person,' one of the guards stated, extending a hand.
Riniock and Linry handed over the coins, and in exchange, each received a small brooch. The guard gestured to their garments. 'Pin these on. Once inside, those who wish to observe or bid should take seats under the roofed sections surrounding the stage.'
Linry's eyes lit up with intrigue. 'Can we sell things too?'
The guard nodded. 'If you want to participate as a seller, head to the booth at the far end of the left path.'
'Thank you,' Riniock said, offering a polite nod before stepping past the guards, with Linry following close behind.
They arrived at the roofed sections the guard had mentioned, arranged in a ring around the central stage like seats in a grand amphitheatre. Each section was sheltered by a cloth canopy and separated by heavy drapes, creating an intimate and secluded space for its occupants.
As they made their way to their assigned seats, Linry noticed a shimmering barrier enveloping each section. The magickal veil blurred the view of anyone sitting behind it, offering guests complete privacy.
'Impressive,' Linry commented, studying the protective enchantment with an appreciative gaze.
Riniock gestured towards a section. 'This is ours.'
They settled into their section, which was outfitted with a pair of plush chairs, each featuring padded armrests and backrests. The elevated seating provided a clear and uninterrupted view of the stage below, free from any distractions or obstructions.
'Perfect!' Riniock exclaimed, leaning forward to get a better look at the activity on stage. 'We've got the best view.'
A seller was already presenting his item, which rested on a uniquely designed platform. The surface of the platform, shaped with intricate, occult patterns, glowed with an ethereal purple light that encased the item, making it clearly visible despite the distance.
'What's he selling?' Linry asked, squinting to make out the object.
'Hold on,' Riniock said, reaching for a curious plate set into the armrest of his chair. The plate, pale and faintly luminous, bore a resemblance to the platform on the stage. As soon as his fingers brushed its surface, a ghostly image materialised above it, radiating the same purple hue.
'Anything placed on the platform down there gets projected to these plates,' he explained. 'They're called Image Replicators.'
The item being auctioned – a seemingly ordinary, abstractly shaped, purple-tinged bag – came into sharp focus on the plate's display. Though unassuming, its enchanted properties piqued Riniock's interest. He deftly manipulated the floating image, rotating and examining it from every angle.
'Let me see that!' Linry said, stepping closer and plucking the projection from his hands. She turned it around with fascination. 'This is amazing. I wish I had one of these displays for myself.'
They were too late to bid.
The seller on stage repeated the final bid three times, signalling the item's sale. With that, he stepped down, replaced by another man whose unremarkable appearance did little to inspire confidence.
'Don't auctions usually have a presenter?' Linry asked, her brow furrowing at the unconventional setup. 'Sellers are usually anonymous, and the auction house handles the presentation, taking a percentage of the sale.'
'That's how it works in standard auctions,' Riniock acknowledged. He gestured to the new seller climbing onto the stage. 'But in Berzinian culture, business is seen as a personal endeavour. The auction provides the platform and collects a small fee, but it's up to the seller to showcase their goods and convince the audience to bid.'
'Interesting,' Linry mused, intrigued. 'It's like every seller has to be their own pitchman.'
'Exactly.'
The next seller, though ordinary in appearance, carefully placed his item onto the replicating platform. As soon as it made contact, the item's image was projected onto every guest's plate, magnified and glowing with the platform's signature purple hue.
A wave of astonished gasps rippled through the audience, the collective sound cutting through the otherwise hushed air of the auction. Even from their concealed sections, it was clear that the item had captured everyone's attention.
Bids began flying in rapid succession, each offer quickly outmatched by another. The atmosphere grew electric, filled with the urgency of competing voices.
Riniock leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the projection on his plate. Linry twisted the image, inspecting every angle with growing intensity. His lips parted slightly, and he murmured, 'This is…'