"Three hundred and fifty gold coins!"
Oakwyn's voice rang out once more.
Yet the lofty price of 350 gold coins did little to quell the determination of the assembled merchants.
"Three hundred and sixty!"
"Three hundred and seventy-five!"
Fabian's veins stood out on his neck. After acquiring his pound of refined salt earlier, he now felt his limits pressed.
"Four hundred gold coins!" Oakwyn called boldly, undeterred. For a mere pound of salt, he had spent only a hundred gold coins before—this new rarity, the refined white sugar, was worth the risk.
Fabian forced a wry smile and shook his head. The sum was beyond his comfort. Not that he lacked coin, but parting with so much would leave his coffers dangerously low, imperiling his trade ventures.
"I yield!" he declared, bowing in concession.
Now only Oakwyn and Slate remained on the field of bidding.
Though the merchants present were seasoned players, there existed ranks among them. Oakwyn, Slate, and Fabian belonged to the first echelon; the others merely second-tier, their purses far lighter.
Seeing Fabian withdraw, Oakwyn and Slate exhaled. One rival vanquished, now the contest was theirs alone.
"Four hundred and twenty gold coins!" Slate's eyes gleamed with quiet fire. Though friends, profit could not be ignored.
"Four hundred and thirty gold coins!" Oakwyn answered, determination firm.
"Slate, we are well acquainted. Why stir strife? Show me courtesy, and I shall answer thee in kind," Oakwyn urged.
Slate smiled, calm and unyielding. "Friendship is friendship, yet business is business. The two must not mingle."
"Four hundred and fifty gold coins!!"
A quiet hung over the hall. Oakwyn's funds were nearly spent, but the pristine white sugar called to him.
He gritted his teeth. "Four hundred and eighty gold coins! Beyond this, I shall concede!"
Slate watched Oakwyn's determination. Today mercy held no sway; the rare white sugar might vanish from the kingdom for decades, perhaps forever.
"Four hundred and ninety gold coins!!" Slate declared, raising ten rather than one, as a nod to courtesy.
Oakwyn exhaled sharply. Bitter though it was to yield, sense had spoken.
"Four hundred and ninety gold coins, once!"
Isolde's brow arched. Half a pound of pure white sugar—so rare—had fetched a staggering sum. Her gaze swept the hall. Any challengers left?
"Four hundred and ninety gold coins, twice!"
No voice answered. Oakwyn and Fabian had withdrawn, leaving the field clear. Isolde, seeing no opposition, did not prolong the bidding.
"Four hundred and ninety gold coins, thrice!"
"SOLD!"
"Let us congratulate Lord Slate for acquiring this half-pound of white sugar—a rare delicacy, perhaps not to be seen again this year—for the price of 490 gold coins!"
Isolde lingered on the word rare, emphasizing the exclusivity.
True or not, it was precisely the image Darien wished to convey.
Clap, clap!
Darien led the applause, and the merchants, swept by the fervor, followed suit.
Envy gleamed in every eye. Any merchant of sense understood the profit that might await the buyer, yet few could muster so vast a sum.
Slate alone had the means, though he had not brought enough coins at hand, summoning a servant to fetch them.
Darien cast a knowing wink at Isolde, who immediately caught his meaning.
"Our auction continues," Isolde announced with poise. "Next, we present several rare implements from distant lands. We hope they stir your interest."
At her signal, several attendants entered, each carrying an item of craftsmanship: a chef's knife, a steel skillet, and a small vineyard spade forged in Tuscany.
"Perhaps you know not the land of our Lord's birth," Isolde added, her voice smooth and persuasive. "He comes from the far Western lands, a place both distant and wondrous. These tools, like the white sugar and precious salt, he carried with him as treasures of his heritage."
The merchants leaned forward in intrigue.
Few had noticed the items themselves; their curiosity was captured entirely by the tales of distant lands.
"From the West… what kind of land is that?"
"Then perhaps from Luntherra, aye? Or even the capital itself?"
"Hah, surely not from the royal city. Sugar and salt of such purity are unheard of there!"
Slate shook his head slightly, pondering the capital's market. He knew well that the profits from these rare goods could surpass even the sums just spent.
"Further yet," mused a merchant, stroking his beard. "Velgrath, most like… or Solgrin."
"Or even farther?"
A ripple of whispers passed through them. They hungered to know more of Darien, yet none dared; in Brindlemark, one insult could bankrupt a man faster than any tax.
Seizing the moment, Isolde's voice rang clear:
"These are no common tools," she declared. "Our Lord carried them from distant realms. Forged not from precious metals, but from stainless steel—a metal that does not rust, warp, or decay, and remains steadfast through fire, ice, and ceaseless toil."
Each word drew admiration; the merchants' eyes gleamed as she listed the metal's virtues.
"And the craftsmanship is unmatched! Approach and examine them for yourselves. I swear, none here have ever beheld such exquisite artistry."
The hostesses brought forth the kitchenware.
Oakwyn took up the chef's knife. Its weight was substantial, and the blade shone with a silver brilliance.
Sharpness was evident at a glance.
"What a splendid blade!" Oakwyn said softly. "Pity it serves no knight's hand. A sword like that could rival a king's treasury."
Most swords of the realm were wrought of iron, prone to rust and constant care. Were this stainless steel applied to arms, it would be worth a fortune.
The skillet and shovel, weightier yet no less refined, captured the merchants' interest.
Their rare make spoke of fortune; peasants might overlook them, but nobles with mighty halls and endless banquets would pay dearly for such enduring tools.
"Now, for the stainless steel chef's knife—the starting price is ten gold coins!"
"Twenty!"
"Twenty-eight!"
"Thirty!"
In the end, the chef's knife sold for fifty gold coins, the skillet for forty, and the vineyard spade likewise for forty.
By then, Slate's retinue had delivered his coins.
Darien's eyes gleamed with satisfaction; the auction was a triumph. The merchants, their coffers lighter, would bid less on subsequent items—but that mattered little.
Brindlemark's renown, and Darien's subtle test of the market, had been more than fulfilled.
---
🔍 Did you know?
⚙️ STAINLESS STEEL
- In our history, stainless steel was not invented until 1913, when Harry Brearley of Sheffield, England, discovered it while searching for a rust-resistant metal for gun barrels. For centuries before, blacksmiths battled rust as an inevitable foe—blades, pans, and tools all corroded quickly.
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