Chapter 24: Private Auction Estate, Night (1) (Patreon)

The sweeping vista of a glamorous ballroom greeted us within this ramshackle building housed in the heart of the Red Light District. Beyond the initial facade, little attempt had been made to hide the hubris that was occurring within.

There were no windows, but even the dazzling moonlight would have paled in comparison to the light shone by the chandeliers fixed to the ceiling. Here, in a golden-lit interior, the finest of Blackrose's citizens were parading with vigour, conversing with smiles as frivolous as the clothes they wore.

Long tables stretched throughout the ballroom. On them, glittering bowls and plates boasted the type of fare that starkly reminded me of the gap that existed between us and the world of the nobility. Upon a raised corner podium, a group of bards were playing a tune fit for royalty on stringed instruments.

In this city of opulence, the war against the Demon King's army was as far removed from this place as the green fields outside the city would suggest.

There had to be over a hundred souls gathered in this place, and yet there was still space for more. The laughter and chatter seemed to resonate like an echo, alongside the clattering of forks noisily scraping against plates more expensive than anything I carried on my person.

And yet I almost didn't see anything.

My sight was almost entirely filled by the image of Iris casually wrapping her arm around Magnus's.

She gave no hint of knowing I was watching, despite her keen senses undoubtedly being aware. Instead, she wore a bemused smile as she took in the grand sight of the ballroom with the other man by her side.

“It appears I didn't need to worry,” she said, her eyes casually taking in the setting in one fell sweep. “I'm not overdressed in the slightest.”

Magnus snorted.

It was already a poor enough image that he was only in his rough adventuring clothes, but when standing beside a picture as perfect as Iris, the sound was even more striking.

“Yeah, you're not overdressed, you're underdressed.”

“That seems rather disingenuous towards my outfit.”

“What outfit? That thin strip of blue?”

Suddenly, Iris's arm noticeably tightened around Magnus's.

The man shifted slightly, but held his ground. His smile became even more disgusting than before as he proceeded to happily dig his own grave.

“Yeah, I can't tell whether you wanted to show more of your tits or your legs. Looking for some easy money to marry into, eh? Not a bad call. You can even be picky.”

The arm tightened even further. I wondered if Magnus's blood was even circulating around his arm anymore.

He probably viewed it as a worthy sacrifice.

“Try to grab someone with one of those fancy holy weapons as a family heirloom or something. If you can't use it, I could. May as well try to get something for everyone here. If you can't, find someone you can squeeze for coin straight away. None of that credit bullshit.”

Iris's warning came by her smile before her words.

“Magnus.”

“Yeah?”

“If you say another word, I will render your arm inoperable for the remainder of the week.”

The man replied with a flash of his white teeth.

“Ain't the part of me that I need,” he said cheerfully. “Hey, think you can flush out some coin just by doing your thing?”

In that moment, I almost hear the sound of a crack.

It seems that Magnus really did consider getting on Iris's nerves to be worth the pain.

“I'm not sure what profoundly disgusts me more. The insinuation that your fighting arm isn't what you consider the most essential part of you, or that I have something called doing my thing.”

“You know what your thing is. Bat your eyelashes a few times. Shove your tits in their face. That'll have the virgins rolling over. You can smell them too, right? Fuck me, how can you be rich in this city and still be a virgin?”

Iris wore a look of deep distaste as she viewed the man whose arm she was now trying to fully sever.

She didn't answer, however, and I couldn't help but find myself wondering whether or not she actually could smell virgins. Given the unique insights granted by the Goddess of Love, I imagined it wouldn't be the most surprising boon our deity granted.

For a moment, I thought about stepping in. Not that it was the the delicate lady that needed my help, that is. Yet more than the threat of Iris committing an act that would substantially decrease our party's combat capacity, I worried over what the prying ears of the nobles would result in if they heard what some of our more rustic conversations sounded like.

Fortunately, it was a decision that was taken out of my hands.

“Welcome to the auction,” said a female voice beside us. “Would you care for refreshments?”

We turned around.

A maid was standing to attention, carrying a silver platter already filled with three glasses of wine. Nor was she the only one in this place.

Behind her, as well as between the gathered nobility, maids scooted between the tables, ensuring that no glass was empty enough for a complaint to be sounded.

Like the maids of the Renfont Estate, they were all undeniably beautiful. Their uniform, however, was slightly less scandalous. The garter belts remained, but the skirts were longer and the busts fully covered.

In that sense, they were quite modest, especially when compared to the type of outfit worn by the stunning princess in our midst.

“No, thank you,” answered Iris, batting away Magnus's free hand as it reached out for a glass. “We have business to conduct tonight, and would rather not be inebriated for it.”

Her voice came out slightly sterner than was polite. However, the maid gave no response to it other than to bow her head.

She still did not retreat, though.

“I understand. I will relay your wishes to the other members of staff. However, please do not hesitate to inform us should your needs change.”

“Thank you.”

The maid nodded.

“The buffet is available throughout the evening. A specially curated menu consisting of freshly imported produce is also available, from which you may direct an order towards any member of staff. The musicians are currently playing to a curated set of Northern ballads, but will be open to individual requests of any waltz known to them once the auction is finalised and the floor is opened to dancing. Should you wish to join the soiree, please ensure that you wear shoes unlikely to cause unnecessary strain to the marble tiles. Scrolls of anti-scratching are available beside the non-gelatinous snacks table.”

I could see Iris's shoulders sink as she allowed the necessary information to parade entirely past her ears.

“Thank you. I'll … certainly use a scroll of anti-scratching for … joining the soiree should I desire.”

She paused.

“What … What exactly is a non-gelatinous snacks table?”

“It is a table adorned with a selection of candy crafted by our artisan chefs, for those who cannot consume foodstuffs containing essence of slimes.”

“Essence of slimes.”

“Yes. It is primarily catered towards those who cannot consume slimes, primarily due to issues with digestion or lack of jaw strength.”

“I see. And by that, do I understand that everything except the non-gelatinous snacks table may or may not contain bits of slimes in them?”

“That would be correct, my lady.”

Iris smiled.

“Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.”

The maid nodded, then gracefully departed.

Iris immediately looked at both Magnus and myself in turn. I couldn't help but be keenly aware that, even if she'd perhaps broken it, her arm was still tightly held around the other man's as if this was the most normal act.

“Essence of slime,” she said simply.

I forced out a wry smile, pulling my eyes away from Iris's slender arm.

“I hear it's a delicacy around these parts.”

“I'm sure it is, particularly if it comes with the taste of a broken arrowhead. Always a refined taste.”

Magnus shrugged.

“Probably tastes like chicken.”

Iris clicked her tongue, but not before glancing around for signs of the local barbarian being overheard.

“Why are you even here?” she asked testily. “There is nothing you can do here which you can't do outside, well away from prying eyes.”

The tall man chuckled, his eyes sweeping from Iris's features to the maid still retreating from our company.

“Can't have fun outside. Nobody but the sorry sod at the door. Not a whore on the street. These guys are going overboard. That's a perfectly good chunk of the Red Light District they're keeping to themselves.”

“We are not here to have fun,” said Iris darkly. “We are here to acquire--”

Magnus waved his hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Acquire some secret magical dildo. I'm sure the wives of these nice little noblemen are begging them to buy it. Fuck that. Only one of us needs to take part. I'm going to see what additional services these maids have on offer.”

If Iris had accepted the glass of wine, she would doubtless be choking on it right now.

Instead, she had to make do with cracking Magnus's arm again.

“Excuse me? Additional services? Do you think every maid is a lady of the night in this city?”

“Yup.”

It was an honest reply, straight from the heart.

Iris's jaw went slack. As did her arm. Magnus seized the opportunity to relinquish himself from her. He looked none the worse for wear, although I couldn't help but feel the full weight of the world's jealousy that Magnus was even in a position to do such a thing.

“Who knows,” he continued, giving his arm a small shake to ensure it was still functional. “Maybe one of those maids from the manor are around. Could be working dispatch, you know what I mean?”

Iris glowered with distaste.

“One of those maids … you could at least have the decency to refer to them by name, since you took the time to learn them.”

Magnus blinked stupidly.

“I did?”

“You did.”

Several moments passed before recognition appeared in Magnus's face. The air of low-level fatigue around Iris was suddenly replaced with a cold aura more in keeping with the Sword Princess that was experienced by awed rookie adventurers.

“You've already forgotten their names?” she said delicately.

“They're just the ones I gave them. I don't fucking know what their names are.”

“I see … tell me, do you remember what colour any of their hair was?”

“What?”

“Any hair colour. Pick one. There were three of them. Chance is in your favour.”

Magnus suddenly became very still. He glanced at Iris's hair.

“Blonde,” he declared confidently.

“None of them were blonde.”

“Shit.” Magnus at least had the sense to look slightly abashed. For him, at least. “Well, it's not like I was looking at anything other than their--”

“Let's go,” said Iris, immediately turning to me with a sweet smile. “The … slime essences can wait. As can the dancing necessitating the use of frivolously expensive magical scrolls. The auction will begin soon, if it hasn't already.”

I replied with a wry smile and a nod.

A part of me knew this was their usual routine. An argument for the sake of arguing. Just as anyone would expect from adventurers in the same party.

And yet with how Iris seemed to pout as she turned her clear eyes onto me, it almost seemed to me as if there was a different tint to this.

Almost as if … as if I was being dragged into a lover's quarrel.