At Isolde's announcement, the merchants' eyes glimmered with fervor.
To some, the chance to acquire the last pound of refined salt was both a blessing and a torment—they knew that failure to act now would be a bitter regret.
"The final pound of refined salt, starting price—ten gold coins!"
Before the words fully left Isolde's lips, the room erupted in bidding.
"One hundred and fifty gold coins!"
The first offer matched the previous highest sale, yet this time, no one faltered.
"One hundred and sixty gold coins!"
"One hundred and seventy gold coins!"
"One hundred seventy-five gold coins!"
"One hundred eighty-five gold coins!"
The merchants pressed on, eyes alight with greed and determination.
Slate felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his brow. His early position spared him from losing face, but tension coiled tightly around him.
"Two hundred gold coins!"
The declaration finally drew a collective breath from the crowd, though they were far from yielding.
"Two hundred and ten gold coins!"
"Two hundred and twenty gold coins!"
"Two hundred and twenty-five gold coins!"
The pace slowed, the increments dwindled. From his vantage point, Darien observed quietly, noting the limit of their resolve.
At last, the bidding concluded at two hundred and forty gold coins.
"Two hundred and forty gold coins, once!"
"Two hundred and forty gold coins, twice!"
"Two hundred and forty gold coins, thrice!"
"SOLD!"
As Isolde's gavel fell, the auction for the third pound of refined salt came to its close.
Sweat beaded on brows, and the merchants were thoroughly spent—this contest had taxed both their coin purses and their nerves.
For many, it was their first time parting with such a sum of pure gold. The exhilaration of the moment left hearts racing and hands trembling.
"Let us offer congratulations to Lord Fabian, who has claimed the last pound of refined salt at two hundred and forty gold coins!"
Clap, clap! Clap, clap!
Even without Darien's prompting, the merchants rose in spontaneous applause.
Fabian, a delicate-looking merchant of cloth who had journeyed from a distant barony upon the summons of his steward, blushed as he handed over the gold and received the precious pound of crystalline salt.
A rare, satisfied smile graced his face at last.
Darien observed him quietly, a pleased expression crossing his own features.
Three pounds of refined salt had now fetched a total of four hundred and ninety gold coins.
By his reckoning, this sum alone would suffice to restore Brindlemark's markets and provide sustenance for the town for many moons.
The modest auction, meant in part to test the waters, had already achieved its secondary goal—yet more importantly, it had begun to establish the reputation of Brindlemark among the wealthiest traders of the realm.
Darien thought to himself, Gold alone shall not suffice. In the years to come, skill, alliances, and cunning shall outweigh mere coin.
...
"Every pound of refined salt is now sold. Once again, congratulations to Lord Oakwyn, Lord Slate, and Lord Fabian!"
Once the applause waned, Isolde's voice rose once more, ringing with authority and anticipation.
Clap, clap! Clap, clap!
"Yet, gentlemen who depart empty-handed, do not despair. The treasures that follow are of far greater rarity and value!"
The merchants leaned forward instinctively, eyes wide.
Slate, in particular, raised an eyebrow—he had assumed the auction concluded with the refined salt. That more valuable wares remained was a revelation indeed!
"Then, without further ado, we present the fourth auction item!"
All eyes turned to Isolde, who stepped forward with bright enthusiasm.
The tray was brought forth, and the merchants leaned forward eagerly, their hearts quickening with anticipation.
Aiden did not prolong the suspense. With a swift motion, she lifted the white cloth.
"This…"
Gasps echoed through the room. The tray bore a familiar-looking miniature satchels, filled with glimmering white crystals.
Many merchants furrowed their brows. Had they not been told that the last pound of refined salt had already been sold?
"Fear not," Isolde said with a secretive smile. "This is not salt."
The hostess stepped forward, carrying the tray among the crowd.
Only then did the merchants observe that the crystals were subtly different—slightly larger, more lustrous, with a clean, sparkling purity.
Fabian, curious, compared the satchels to his own refined salt. The contrast was clear.
These crystals were not meant for seasoning—they were something entirely.
"Taste it before bidding," Isolde instructed.
On the tray lay a dozen delicate wooden tasting spoons. Each merchant took one, glancing about with cautious excitement.
Oakwyn was the first to taste. His eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly, astonished.
Slate quickly followed, dipping his spoon with eager hands.
"Sugar!?" Slate exclaimed, a gleam of delight in his eyes.
His declaration ignited a flurry of reactions:
"Is this truly sugar?!"
"This sweetness… it surpasses all the honey and syrup of my youth!"
"Ha! This white gold shall turn any market to profit!"
Once all had sampled, Isolde signaled the hostess to reclaim the tray—each spoonful had been a mere taste of what was to come, and far more valuable than mere coins.
"This, gentlemen, is white sugar," Isolde proclaimed. "Black sugar cones are common in our lands—bitter and coarse—but none among you has tasted sugar of such purity. Its sweetness is unmatched, its appearance pristine. I assure you, you have never beheld its equal."
Her voice carried the authority of someone who knew the hearts of merchants and nobility alike.
"The starting bid for half a pound of this refined white sugar is one hundred gold coins! I repeat—half a pound!"
A murmur of approval rippled through the room. Sugar was a rare luxury, and this white refinement made it the most coveted of all.
"Two hundred gold coins!" Oakwyn called boldly.
"Two hundred and fifty!" Fabian followed swiftly, unable to resist the temptation even after spending so much on salt.
"Two hundred and eighty!" another merchant cried.
"Three hundred and twenty!" Slate's voice rang out, joining the fray.
Darien observed calmly from the sidelines, noting the flushed faces and the gleaming eyes of the merchants.
With each bid, he gauged their remaining coin, their desire, and how far their pride and appetite for rare delicacies would carry them.
The auction for the white sugar had begun in earnest—a battle of coin, status, and taste, every bit as fierce and refined as the treasures it sought to bestow.
---
🔍 Did you know?
WHITE SUGAR
– In medieval Europe, pure white sugar was rarer than gold. Most only knew coarse black sugar or honey. Only nobles and wealthy merchants could afford this sparkling delicacy, making it a prized luxury.
- In early Europe, frequent consumption of refined sugar could blacken teeth. Sweetness was a sign of status… and a dental hazard.