The energy in the grand auction hall had reached a boiling point.
As the next item came up for auction, Luenor gave a slight, deliberate nod to Hunter. He stood immediately dressed in dark clothing, his broad shoulders and calm demeanor easily earning him attention, as he made his way through the Duskwatch VIP booth.
In a snap decision, Ren moved between Hunter and the Marquis. "Hold up."
Hunter's eyes brightened as he knew he controlled the moment now. "I'm here to give you a message," he said coldly. "Clear the hall. Remove all of your knights from this area. Alfrenzo will be taking ownership of this establishment today."
Argen stood in a whirl of anger. His jaw clenched, hand instinctively rested on his sword. "What did you say?"
Ren made a guttural sound of displeasure, taking a step towards Hunter. "You dare threaten—"
Hunter's right hand was a flash as he threw his fist square in Ren's solar plexus. There was no mistaking the sick thud of flesh against flesh. Ren's eyes widened in shock as air rushed from his lungs and he tripped over his own body before it collapsed onto the ground unconscious.
The hall full of people turned in unison with gasps of disbelief of what they had just witnessed. A knight of Ruthenia - an elite knight on top of that - was just felled with one punch.
"No one disrespects Alfrenzo," Hunter said, not even glancing at the body. "Leave now or be buried with the rest."
Duskwatch shook with anger and the rationality of his son's garish, terrified face. After a long breath, he gritted his teeth and stood up. "Come, Argen. We are leaving."
Argen hesitated, glancing back at Ren's fetal form and then following his father out of the auction booth, with help from another knight hoisting Ren between them. No one accustomed to difficult behavior from nobles or guests expected the powerful Marquis of Duskwatch would abandon the auction without a word, with nobles and guests stunned into silence.
Hunter, pleased with this turn of events, walked to the aisle in the center of the hall and stopped at the podium of the auction master. The auctioneer, white-paled with fear, seemed ready to tremble when Hunter mustered a fierce look and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Hunter had said wiped every trace of color from his face.
However, this show must go on.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer said, trembling, "please welcome the final item for your consideration... the pièce de résistance of our event today... the Book of the Red Devil by the most infamous Count Marlo of Ruthenia."
Gasping encompassed the hall.
"The book that you will be bidding on next," the auctioneer continued. "Has been labeled as forbidden. It holds spells and rituals, and research on blood magic and unethical experimentation on people, beasts, and elves alike. Once thought lost at the time of Marlo's execution, was being auctioned off as a piece of history of weapons of risk… and of power…"
The nobles in masks leaned forward along with the black-cloaked VIPs. Bidding commenced right away.
Ten thousand gold. Fifteen thousand gold. Twenty-five thousand.
The black-suited VIPs were the most aggressive. Luenor remained still and did not even raise his hand. Thalanar looked at him.
"You're not bidding?" He asked.
"Not for this," Luenor replied softly. "Let the devils show themselves. This auction is bait."
Across the room, the guards cringed as they anticipated something faulty. Something inappropriate, as the thoughts of the escalated confrontation crept back into their minds. Yet, the crowd was too entranced by the dark artifact to notice the true storm gathering.
____
Meanwhile, outside of the auction house behind they were set up for the auction, a pool of blood made a puddle at Arwin's feet.
The knight he had been engaging in battle for the past few agonizing moments collapsed with his own sword in his spine. He sputtered, blood poured from his lips, and his body fell. Arwin took in a few heavy breaths, his victory didn't feel like a victory.
In his periphery, he noticed a blur—a woman, possibly one of the auction's servants, turned the corner, halted at the scene, and widened her eyes. Her mouth opened, and she began to scream.
There wasn't time for thought. He reached for the hilt of his dagger, pulled it free, and threw it with purposeful speed and accuracy.
The blade sank into her throat. A wet gurgle escaped her mouth as she fell limply beside the knight.
Arwin leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from his temple, his arms felt like jelly—he wasn't exhausted, rather, the sharp, jagged guilt of killing two more people coursed through his veins.
"I didn't want to kill her," he whispered to no one in particular. "But I could never risk it."
He picked up his fallen sword and surveyed the area. The hallway remained empty—cold, quiet. There wasn't time to think, he took the keys from the knight and entered the storeroom at long last.
___
Back in the main hall, the bidding on the Book of the Red Devil was up to fifty thousand gold coins. One of the black-suited men in the Eastern VIP booth slapped the glass of his booth with his palm signifying that he would bid that much.
No one else dared to outbid him.
"Sold!" the auctioneer declared, almost collapsing in relief. "To the guest in the Eastern VIP booth!"
The man did not react. He did not show any sign of victory, rather he just gave a slow nod as the auctioneer signaled for the book to be sent to him.
Just as the attendants were about to retrieve the book, a loud clang from the corridor echoed.
The guards at the side doors tightened up. One of them started to move to check what the noise was but didn't advance far.
There was a dull thud from the back.
Then another one.
And then the lights flickered.