Chapter 536: My Auctioneer’s Guildhall

It was over for the Auctioneers and Alþjófr.

On the nape of the dwarf was a runic magic circle denouncing his free will and turning him into a slave. It was a similar tattoo to the one that he applied to the previously captured member of the Auctioneers but better. Upgraded to earn him the ire and the complete loyalty of this dwarf and consequently the whole of the Auctioneers. No matter where Dasha was in the Underground, Alþjófr had to obey.

That did come with a minor downside, that being he could not visit the Heavenly Tower for as long as he could not improve the range. At least until he acquired a Slave Contract.

His first questions were simple: “How do you rank the Auctioneers?”

After a loud gasp and grunt, Alþjófr explained it to him. There were Provers, thieves who were to prove their might and had specific training and tasks to complete. It took ten or fifteen years for a Prover to be promoted to the next rank. This next rank was Courier. Middle of the pack, those that were acceptable in their work. Finally, there were the Masters. Master Thieves were assigned only the best of tasks.

“How many Masters are there?” Dasha then asked.

“O-only two now. I lost…I lost many of them.”

“What kind of authority do they possess? Will they threaten my control over you?”

“N-no, likely not. They are, ngggh.” Alþjófr did not want to speak the truth yet did. “Those with too much talent and not enough control are killed. I-I…it is partially my fault that I have too few Masters. I have, haanngh, too paranoid.”

Dasha did not expect anything like less. The Auctioneers, though mighty, were nothing compared to the Whispers. They were a mid-tier guild that stole within their region and only seemed to rarely go beyond it.

“You know your place,” Dasha said. “That is good. Very good. Now then…tell me your secrets.”

The first thing the dwarf did was show his five rings. He explained how each ring granted access to every door, staircase, and secret path in every one of his bases. The ring on his index finger was for this base, the main one. With the ring, the golden painting right behind his desk opened uup and unveiled a special back room. It did not contain treasure as Dasha anticipated but rather…

“Impressive.”

…an old teleportation device from the Second Heavenly War.

“So this was how you planned to escape. You have back-up plans behind back-up plans. You are starting to impress me, dwarf.”

“By calibrating the device,” Alþjófr said with gritted teeth, “it leads you to t-to one of my five safe houses. The calibration can only be done through my rings.”

“You are thoughtful and wise. Having a man like you by my side will be useful.” Dasha walked up to the Teleportation Device. “Dr. Thornton would be excited to see this. A fully-functioning, non-decommissioned teleportation device from the Second Heavenly War. Look at it, it’s beautiful.”

Dasha examined it like a child with a new toy.

“Ah, I spoke too quickly. You made upgrades to this, that is why it can calibrate to five different locations. I remember hearing from Dr. Thornton that the original device could only calibrate towards two locations.”

“Yes…”

“Who made these upgrades?”

Alþjófr grunted. “I did.”

Dasha turned to look at him. “You did? Impressive. I commend you once again.”

Seven feet high, the white disk at the base led up to a full circle. A true portal that distinctly showed what lay ahead. Seven feet in diameter as well, cut from moonstone, the crater-like surface was covered in delicate carvings. Not runes or even the language of the Dwarves but Old High German and a mix of something older.

’If history serves me right, it was mostly the Great Noble families that could build a Teleportation Device. Are you telling me…’

“You stole this from the House of Aschersleben,” Dasha realized. “How did you pull it off?”

“Two of my best thieves died in pursuit of it. I-in my office, nngh, I hold golden statues for the ones whose sacrifice meant something,” the dwarf replied.

“So it wasn’t easy.” Dasha went into a thinking pose. “Where do they live? The Ascherslebens?”

“T-the Divine Territory of Gloria, although…” Alþjófr grumbled here. “…it is hardly a Divine Territory anymore.”

“Yes, I do recall reading as such. It surpasses even the Underground in chaos.”

“Simply navigating through that Territory was hell for them,” Alþjófr said. “And after our theft, they chased us. They killed several of my thieves and ransacked one of my bases. It was a massacre.”

“Like it matters. You got what I needed already.” Dasha dropped down and ran his fingers along the edge of the disc, feeling the mana pulses cycle through it: one every six seconds, like a heartbeat sealed in stone.

Closing his eyes and using his Qi Sense, he understood the wiring, writings, and circles used for this. He headed over to the terminal embedded in a raised stone pillar to the side of the disc. The device looked like a hybrid of arcane and mechanical construction: five rotating rings surrounded a glowing orb suspended in a magnetic field.

Dasha linked his hands behind him. “Show me how it works, please.”

“Y-you…you are a monster.”

Dasha did not blink and grabbed the dwarf by his nape. His eyes became blood red as he amplified the slave enchantment.

“You will be signing a contract of obedience soon, so don’t worry, your thoughts on me will change.”

He slammed his down on the ground. Blood gushed out and he patiently waited for the dwarf to recover. In an arm wrestling competition, even with his gauntlets, Dasha suspected he would lose. Indeed, Alþjófr possessed strong arms, that was not in question. His legs and his durability, however, were in the gutter compared to his arm strength. It was the simply the biology of the dwarf species: exceptional arm strength to wield weaponry and draw magic circles, high intelligence, and little else.

Grunting in pain, Alþjófr approached the terminal and turned the outermost ring. One by one, the portal changed. One by one, he showed his little hideouts.

’Another little secret to keep from Daughter.’

Indeed. This one, he was keeping to himself.

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