From fifty to a hundred gold coins, Oakwyn's boldness left the other merchants awestruck.
A hush fell over the hall, each man uncertain of Oakwyn's resolve. None dared raise their hand for a moment.
"One hundred gold coins, once!"
"One hundred gold coins, twice!"
"One hundred gold coins, thrice!"
"SOLD!"
"Let us commend Lord Oakwyn for claiming the pound of refined salt!"
Isolde's cheeks flushed at the sight—so many gold coins in one place! She clapped with delight.
Darien led the applause, and though none knew precisely why, they followed his example, joining in the tribute.
The merchants' eyes widened as realization struck—they had underestimated Oakwyn.
To purchase a pound of this exquisite salt for a hundred gold coins was no folly.
Each had received a sample from Darien, and all knew its purity and fineness far surpassed common salt. Though costly, to sell to nobles—or even royalty—would yield far greater profit, for prestige alone was worth gold.
"Congratulations, Oakwyn!"
"Indeed, well done!"
"You have secured a rare treasure!"
The words were tinged with envy and regret.
Were they given another chance, none would surrender so easily.
Oakwyn's smile widened, pleased by his fortune and the rare luxury in his hands.
"Well done, indeed," Slate said, inclining his head with measured respect.
Though often rivals, the two had recently forged a cautious accord. For this moment, competition gave way to mutual respect.
Darien, of course, had more in store. No doubt, this second item would rival the first.
A hostess entered, carrying a wooden tray draped in white cloth. The room fell silent once more. Even Oakwyn, who had pledged restraint, watched with keen anticipation.
"Behold the second auction item," Isolde announced, unveiling the tray. Upon it, three miniature satchels were arranged elegantly, each filled with finely milled sea salt, glimmering like powdered pearls in the candlelight.
Gasps of admiration rose from the crowd.
The first auction had startled them; now,none intended to miss this opportunity.
"A pound of this refined salt, starting price—ten gold coins!" Isolde proclaimed.
Slate's hand rose immediately. "One hundred gold coins!"
The initial bid alone startled the merchants into a hush. Then a flurry of murmurs spread through the hall.
"Once fooled, never twice!" one exclaimed.
"Very well—one hundred and ten!"
"One hundred twenty!"
"One hundred thirty!"
"One hundred fifty!" Slate declared boldly. "I shall not bid further, but mark my word, I favor those who stand with me!"
The declaration silenced further competition. Slate's wealth and reputation were unquestioned, and few dared challenge him for this treasure.
Isolde glanced at Darien, unsure if Slate's pledge of favors was proper. Darien simply inclined his head slightly, signaling that he welcomed the arrangement.
"Then so be it," Isolde announced, dropping the hammer with authority.
"One hundred and fifty gold coins, once!"
"One hundred and fifty gold coins, twice!"
"One hundred and fifty gold coins, thrice!"
"SOLD!"
"Let us congratulate Lord Slate for acquiring this pound of refined salt!"
Isolde's voice trembled slightly with excitement. She had thought one hundred gold coins the greatest she would ever witness at auction, and the highest price she had ever overseen. Yet now, within mere minutes, her personal record lay shattered.
"Congratulations!"
"Congratulations, Lord Slate!"
"Thank you, kind sirs," Slate replied with a gracious bow. "When the court seeks the finest salt—or any rare delicacy—call upon me, and it shall be yours."
Though he had spent fifty more gold coins than Oakwyn, his smile was broad and satisfied.
One reason for his wealth, after all, was his son's position in the royal court.
By supplying the refined salt to the palace, Slate knew he could turn this purchase into far greater gain than any of his rivals.
He handed the gold coins to the awaiting hostess with elegance, then lifted the precious salt with careful reverence.
"Let us congratulate Lord Slate once more!" Isolde called.
"Next comes the third and final auction item!"
The same stately servants entered, carrying the familiar wooden tray draped in white cloth, the last remaining refined salt beneath. Murmurs ran through the room.
"Another pound?" one merchant whispered, incredulous.
Oakwyn and Slate exchanged cautious glances. Their earlier triumph now bore a hint of tension—had they been tricked?
Isolde's voice silenced the room, calm yet firm:
"This is the last pound of refined salt to be offered this year. Indeed, to produce even a single pound requires vast quantities of coarse salt and years of meticulous labor. It is likely we shall not see refined salt again for three years—or perhaps longer."
Her tone carried genuine regret, unfeigned.
Darien had told her the truth, and she believed it wholeheartedly.
The merchants leaned forward, their hearts racing.
The knowledge that this was a once-in-years opportunity—perhaps the last they would ever witness—sent a thrill through the room.
Their breaths came fast, eyes wide with anticipation.
"I must secure that one," murmured several, voices low but fervent.
---
🔍 Did you know?
🧂 REFINED SALT
- Refined salt was once called "white gold." Its labor-intensive production made it a rare luxury, prized by nobles and merchants across medieval Europe.