Chapter 532: Auctioneers

A new mask and a new suit.

’A new goal too,’ Dasha thought to himself.

The rooftop was crooked, a slab of rusted steel and scavenged brick overlooking a network of tight, crisscrossing alleyways below. Pipes groaned in the walls. Smoke hissed from somewhere far off. The Underground didn’t allow for beauty. Just function, ugly, necessary function. It didn’t matter the neighbourhood.

Ahead of him loomed the structure known as the Auctioneers’ Guildhall, headquarters of the most infamous thief guild in this subsection. He caught whispers. He asked his child spy network. He wasn’t able to glean as much as he liked.

It was massive. Not tall, but broad, sprawling like a crouching beast. It was built low, using overlapping walls of scrap metal and fortified blackstone. Not a single window in sight. Just high walls, reinforced gates, and slit-like vents that looked more like scars than openings. A dozen chimneys fumed silently, puffing out slow, poisonous curls of something not quite smoke.

Dasha stood on a rooftop facing this building. His cloak barely stirred in the windless air.

Kneeling beside him was a former attacker. No older than twenty and with prematurely gray hair cropped close to the scalp, and a cursed eye that flickered weakly with mana. In their scuffle, Dasha did not gaze into his eye and so the curse’s ability did not activate. Dasha did not plan to peer into it either. A brand burned around his neck marked him as his property. The imprint on his flesh was just one layer. The second came in the form of a thin chain, inscribed with more binding runes. He could not lie. He could not disobey.

And he knew it.

Dasha closed his eyes and extended his Qi Sense, hoping to map the structure: walls, patrols, heat, and heart beats.

Nothing.

Nothing.

His mind hit a wall of silence. like diving into still, black water.

’A Territory… or something like it.’

Whether it was a magic circle meant to blur perception, or layered with too much Qi, or even an old Territory rooted by powerful Wizards, it didn’t matter. He was blind inside.

So he turned instead to the kneeling Auctioneer.

“The first thing you told me was that you did not have guards outside but only inside. Elaborate. Tell me everything.”

Neck burning, the enslaved Auctioneer spoke. “T-the main gate has three rotating seals keyed to blood signatures. Auctioneers only. But the seals are for show, for people like you. For attackers. The true entrance is through the smoke vent beneath the northeast wall. T-the vent isn’t normal, there is a special spell cast so that only we can see it.”

“Where does it lead?”

“It drops into a filtration pit.”

“What’s in the pit?”

“Chlorine gas, a special blend that messes with mana too. A test. Our bodies have been trained to survive poison, therefore, only we can survive it. The door beyond that pit leads to the Receiving Chamber. That’s where we thieves drop off new acquisitions—items and people.”

“Security?”

He didn’t want to say. He wanted to hide it all. He could not. “T-there’s a bunch of golems, a hundred or maybe more or less. They’re elemental constructs bound to the guild founder’s soul. Can’t be bribed, can’t be reasoned with.”

“Class level?”

“Class…?”

Dasha’s fingers tapped his arm. A mildly skilled thief with no knowledge of the academics. Okay, fine. “Their weakness?”

“They’re blind to anyone holding an Auctioneer ring. It marks you as ’trusted.’”

“And I can’t get one from you?”

“N-no. There…” The Auctioneer really didn’t want to tell him. “A special ritual is required for the ring and the Auctioneer to sync.”

“Fascinating. Continue.”

“They’re grown, not made. The core Auctioneers—those born into it—have a finger cut off at age eight. The bone is cultivated and refined into a ring at age sixteen. Takes years.”

“Impractical for me and effective for your security system. And if I walk through the front door?”

“You’ll be stripped, tagged, and probably cut apart. They, no, we do not like strangers. Not unless you are selling a rare item. Even then, we scan for Qi signatures—if you’re too strong, we flee. We have bases all over the Underground. Rendezvous points and other potential buildings for cases of emergency. They are empty for now but we can very quickly adapt.”

“This one,” Dasha said, “is your primary base of operations. It is where you were trained and continue to train for highly sought-out items.” He gave a nod of approval. “What a well thought out operation. I’m impressed.”

The thief gave a glare.

“Take the compliment. I give them honestly. What is the limitation of your operation?”

“Limit…?”

“I presume you don’t like to deal with the top fighters of the Underground?” Dasha clarified.

“From time to time we…are hired by third parties to steal from them. Otherwise, yes, we avoid them. We have no one that is capable of battling them in a one-on-one. We are thieves. We battle in groups and overwhelm based on that.”

“Makes sense.” In other words, the only disadvantage was being surrounded and ganged up on. These Auctioneers were experienced in ambushes and group attacks and that sort. In a one-on-one, Dasha was overwhelmingly superior. “Princess Liuying is not to be trifled with.”

“I pity the poor fellow who challenges her,” said the thief, glaring up at him. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Thinking you can overthrow the Great Nobles. You can’t do this forever. You can’t always hide.”

Dasha reached down, grabbing the thief’s chin, turning his head slightly. “If I use you… can you get me inside?”

“I can.” The truth and nothing but the truth. “I-I’m a tier-two thief. I bring in goods. I have clearances.”

Dasha stared at him. Then nodded.

“Good. You’ll help.”

“W-what about the others? My comrades?”

“They’re alive and locked in chains. Ah, one last thing: your leader. Who is he?”

“We call him Alþjófr.”

“He’s a smart man. What does he look like?”

“He wields a hammer and is cloaked in white. Bearded too.”

“You’re hiding something.”

“The Auction Master…is a Dwarf.”

Ahh. That made some sense as to why this operation was so well-thought out. Dwarves were an intelligent species, yes, but more importantly, they were skilled with their hands. To have crafted this building for training thieves, a separate route where poison-resistance was tested, and an emergency plan. A Dwarf made logical sense.

“The smoke vent,” Dasha began, “it is inside the building, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“It’s guarded. You thieves drop off items here. Other thieves then pick it up to give the items to buyers or to pass it off in auctions. Everything is connected.”

“The golems are always with us. It’s not as simple as you think. The golems are rumoured to be have molded with the hair of the First Men.”

“Of Adam? From the Bible?”

“Y-yes. That is what we were told.”

This was getting more interesting by the second.

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