Chapter 108: Andre

After Cervantes announced the starting bid for the space ring, to everyone's surprise, no one shouted out any higher offers. Whether the wealthy merchants and tycoons seated on the first floor or the nobles ensconced in the compartments on the second floor, the hall fell into an eerie silence.

Cervantes had clearly not anticipated such a result despite his vast experience. Standing upon the stage, he found himself momentarily at a loss, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring his features.

Within the compartment, Roland was beside himself with anxiety. Should the ring fail to sell, he would receive not a single gold coin. Tomorrow his younger brother was scheduled for surgery, and without the church's contribution to the fee, the operation could not proceed. Little Hock, already gravely ill, would then face an even greater peril.

"Roland, do not fret," Simon interjected soothingly. "This high-end space ring is being auctioned for the first time, and I suspect these bidders are momentarily unsure of how to proceed. They wish to observe the quotations of others. Rest assured; the impasse should soon be broken."

Maler and the others offered their own words of comfort to Roland, yet as moments stretched into minutes, no voices rose from either the first or second floors. Within the compartment, the group grew increasingly restless.

Baron Alan hailed from a once-proud but now-fallen noble lineage. He had inherited his father's title, yet when he assumed control of the family, its fortunes had already crumbled into ruin. Nevertheless, Alan possessed an astute commercial mind. Drawing upon his own resources, he invested in ventures that others overlooked, albeit somewhat obscure. Through shrewd management and resale, these endeavors routinely yielded extraordinary returns. Over the course of a decade, he had thus revived his ancestral house and amassed assets exceeding millions of gold coins. Today he had been invited to this very auction by Cervantes.

Baron Alan's standing and influence fell short of qualifying him for a seat in the second-floor compartments. He mingled instead with the common crowd. In his leisure, he cultivated a taste for studying items that held little interest for the masses, and the space ring happened to fall within that category. Through careful research, he had learned that, save for Cervantes himself, no other soul in the imperial capital of Hertz City possessed the skill to craft such rings.

Within Cervantes' alchemy shop, two varieties of space rings were offered for sale. The smaller ones, boasting two to three cubic meters of interior space, commanded prices of two to three hundred thousand gold coins each. The larger ones, with five cubic meters, fetched five hundred thousand gold coins. On that basis, the ten-cubic-meter specimen under current auction should fetch at least one million gold coins. Were he to secure it at a sum only marginally above the starting bid, reselling it would yield a handsome profit.

Seeing that no one had yet spoken, Master Cervantes upon the stage grew visibly uneasy. Should he announce a price now, the hammer might fall with a successful transaction. Therefore, when he again inquired whether anyone wished to bid, Baron Alan spoke up: "I bid sixty thousand gold coins!"

This figure was one he had weighed over many times in advance. It preserved a substantial margin for profit while, to some degree, gratifying Master Cervantes' sensibilities. Raising the sum by ten thousand gold coins represented a sizable increment; perhaps the master would then drop the hammer.

Yet before the sound of his voice had even faded, a booming declaration rang out from the front row: "I bid six hundred and ten thousand gold coins!"

"Damn it, how did he come here too!" Baron Alan cursed under his breath. The short, stout merchant who had made the bid was none other than Aubrey, a wealthy tradesman. Baron Alan had conducted several dealings with him and knew well that, though Aubrey possessed scant expertise in evaluating goods, he possessed uncanny skill in reading people. Through subtle cues of expression and gesture, Aubrey could gauge intentions and navigate negotiations accordingly.

Such was precisely the case. Seeing that Baron Alan—who had always been discerning and frugal in expenditure—had offered sixty thousand gold coins, Aubrey resolved to take a gamble and claim the ring. Yet lacking any familiarity with space rings, he felt little confidence. Thus he added only one thousand gold coins, merely testing the waters.

Within the compartment, the arrival of a quotation eased Roland's tension somewhat, though the distance from one million gold coins remained vast. At least the ring would not sell empty-handed. Maler and the others drew long breaths of relief. Such auctions involving tens of hundreds of thousands of gold coins were entirely new to them. They understood that every call of the bid, though it appeared effortless, represented a veritable mountain of gleaming gold coins.

Baron Alan gave a low hum and fell silent once more. He was not abandoning the fray, for he knew profit still lay ahead. Yet with this accursed Aubrey present, caution was imperative. If he pressed forward now, the fat man would surely match each bid, leaving even victory yielding only a pitiful margin. Thus he resolved to bide his time, waiting until the final moment to strike with a slightly higher sum and seize the prize outright.

After all, nearly a hundred souls occupied the first floor. Besides Baron Alan himself, several individuals possessed some knowledge of space rings. After a brief interval of silence, they too ventured their bids.

"Six hundred and twenty thousand gold coins!"

"Six hundred and fifty thousand gold coins!"

"Six hundred and seventy thousand gold coins!"

Yet just as the prices ascended in orderly progression and Baron Alan prepared to make his final offer, a faintly arrogant voice suddenly drifted down from the second-floor compartment: "I bid seven hundred thousand gold coins to claim this space ring. My father turns seventy tomorrow, and I shall present it to him as a birthday gift. I trust everyone will grant me this favor!"

The implication was unmistakable. The speaker wished to secure the ring at seven hundred thousand gold coins and prevent any further escalation in the hall.

His declaration indeed silenced the merchants who had been about to bid, particularly Baron Alan. He knew the ring's true worth far exceeded seven hundred thousand gold coins, where substantial profit awaited. Yet the voice from above was one he could not afford to offend. Thus he closed his lips just as they had begun to move.

"Damn it, the little rascal came too!" Maler cursed fiercely.

"Baron Maler, who is he?" Roland's voice carried a note of fury. From the bidding trend below, the space ring's final price was certain to exceed seven hundred thousand gold coins. Yet the sudden voice from the second floor had quelled the lower bids. Should the deal close at this level, Little Hock's surgery fee would still remain short by three hundred thousand gold coins. How could he not be enraged?

"That boy is named Andre. His father holds the same military minister rank as my own father. Our families have long been at odds. I never imagined he would appear here today as well," Maler explained.

At that moment, seeing no further bids offered, Andre on the second floor curled his lips disdainfully and declared loudly, "Master Cervantes, since no one is bidding any longer, should you not now drop the hammer?"