While Hanon and Aeloria wandered the markets, a different kind of energy began to pulse through the inns of Norco. The Yeminai selection was beginning.
In the inn where Ramius and Krazel stayed, the lower eatery had been transformed. The heavy dining tables had been shoved against the walls, clearing a wide central space. A broad-shouldered, bearded man with a voice like gravel stood at the center of the room, commanding the attention of every man present.
"A greeting to everyone gathered here!" the man roared.
"Tonight shall be different from all other nights! Tonight, a man shall not go to his bed alone, but with a Yemi. We have the finest selection in all of Norco. Pay the price, and she is yours. Prepare your pouches, gentlemen—we begin!"
The room erupted in cheers. The air was filled with the smell of roasted meat, cheap ale, swamp wine, and the pheromones of dozens of eager men.
"I can't wait to see what maiden they have prepared for us tonight," a man in a polished tunic said, elbowing his friend with a hungry grin.
"Just watch me. I'll buy ten—no, a hundred!" his friend boasted, patting a heavy coin purse at his belt.
"Idiot," another man chimed in, laughing. "They don't offer that many maidens at a Yeminai selection. You'd be lucky to win one before your silver runs out."
Upstairs, Ramius leaned over the wooden ledge of the second-floor balcony. Beside him, Krazel watched the spectacle with casual interest, but Ramius's eyes were not on the stage. They were like flint, scanning every shadow, every hooded cloak, and every corner of the room for the man he had seen earlier.
"The first maiden is from the far north, from one of the primitive tribes," the speaker announced, gesturing to the wings. "Everyone, I present Selomia of the Mokniro tribe!"
A young woman walked forward. Her face was hidden behind a translucent veil, and her outfit was designed to leave very little to the imagination, exposing her pale, porcelain-like skin to the flickering torchlight.
"Wow... look at that skin. She's definitely from the north," someone whispered in awe.
"The bidding begins at fifty silver!" the speaker shouted. "The winner gets a free room for the night!"
The room dissolved into a cacophony of shouting. "Sixty!" "Sixty-eight!" "Seventy-two!" "Seventy-nine!" "Eighty!"
Finally, the man who had shouted eighty silver claimed his prize. Ramius, however, remained completely detached, his gaze sweeping the room with cold, mechanical precision. He had no interest in the flesh trade beneath him.
"Next up is a maid," the speaker continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "But she is the most stunning maid you will ever lay eyes upon."
A wave of derisive laughter followed. "Who would want a dumb maid?" someone shouted from the back.
"I know, right? No matter how beautiful they might be, a servant is a—"
The man's words died in his throat. The room went unnervingly silent as the next woman stepped into the light.
"Hmm, not bad," Krazel remarked beside him.
Ramius's sharp eyes continued their sweep of the room for one more second before they instinctively dropped to the stage. He froze. Every muscle in his body locked tight.
There she was. Jerice.
She was dressed in an outfit that was far too revealing—thin silk that clung to her curves and left her exposed to the leering eyes of the crowd.
The speaker didn't even have time to open his mouth before the bidding turned into a frenzy.
"Two hundred!"
"Three hundred!"
"Three hundred and fifty!"
"Seven hundred!"
The numbers climbed higher and higher, but to Ramius, the sound was becoming a dull, distorted roar. A dark, cold pressure began to build in his chest.
'This is strange,' he thought, his hand unconsciously drifting toward the hilt of his weapon. 'Why do I feel so upset? Why do I feel the urge to slaughter every man in this room?' He looked at the bidders, seeing them not as people, but as targets. He felt a primal urge to paint the floor red, to stop their eyes from touching her.
"Two gold coins!"
The voice came from the second floor, cutting through the chaos like a knife. The room fell deathly quiet. To pay two gold coins for a single night was madness—a fortune spent on a whim.
"That's insane," someone muttered from the floor. "Two gold for one night?"
Down on the stage, Jerice looked up, her eyes searching for the source of the bid. She saw a grumpy, wealthy-looking old man leaning over the railing, his face twisted in a smug grin. Her heart sank.
But then, her gaze shifted just a few feet to the left. Her breath hitched. There, standing in the shadows of the balcony, was Ramius.
Ramius loomed over the railing, his gaze locked on Jerice. He felt a sharp, suffocating tightness in his chest that he couldn't explain.
"If there are no more bids, then—"
Below, the auctioneer's hand was raised, ready to close the deal.
"Fifty."
The voice cut through the room like a crack of thunder. Every head in the inn snapped toward the second-floor balcony. There stood the golden-haired man, his hand resting casually on the rail and the other holding a glass of wine with a casual expression.
"What does he mean, 'fifty'?" a man on the lower floor whispered, sweat dripping down his face. "Fifty silver? Surely he doesn't mean gold."
"Fifty gold coins," Ramius repeated.
The speaker was stunned into silence. Jerice looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock. The sheer weight of that amount—a fortune that could buy the inn—just for one night with her? It seemed impossible.
"Sixty gold coins."
From the far end of the balcony, a new voice challenged him. Ramius turned his head slowly. It was the man from this morning—the one who had been watching Krazel. The stranger looked back at Ramius and offered a thin, calculated smile.
'It looks like he's interested in that maid,' the man thought as stared at the golden haired man. 'If I can win her, I can use her as a bargain to lure him away from my target. I have a budget of a hundred gold coins. There's no way anyone would be willing to spend ninety-nine gold for a single night.'
"Just look at them," someone in the crowd muttered. "Tossing gold around like it's pebbles. They must have forgotten what those coins can be used for."
Ramius saw the way the stranger was watching him rather than Jerice. 'The fact that he's looking at me and not the girl means he's not interested in Jerice, but wants to strike a deal,' Ramius thought with a smile. 'But I don't plan on letting anyone touch her. Let's see how deep his pouch truly runs.'
"Well... sixty gold coins takes—" The speaker found his voice, but he was interrupted before he could finish.
Ramius glanced at Jerice. She looked small on that stage, her expression clouded with a flicker of disappointment.
"Two hundred gold coins," Ramius said.
Krazel, standing beside him, choked on his wine, nearly spilling the expensive vintage down his front.
"Wait... now that I look at him, isn't that Ramius? The brilliant strategist of Runevale?" a voice whispered from the shadows. The name began to ripple through the crowd like wildfire.
But they weren't prepared for what he did next.
"Three hundred gold coins."
The room fell into a tomb-like silence. Every eye was fixed on the golden-haired strategist. Suddenly, Orin's voice boomed in the back of Ramius's mind: 'Three hundred? Am I supposed to be impressed?'
Ramius ignored the mental echo and turned his gaze back to the rival bidder. The man's face was twisted in a mask of pure frustration. Ramius didn't give him a chance to breathe.
"Four hundred. Five hundred. Six hundred. Seven hundred. Eight hundred... Nine hundred gold coins." 'My budget is eight thousand gold coins, since that's all I brought with me to Norco. Sixty gold coins he said, that sounded almost adorable.' Ramius thouht with a smile as he swirled his wine
A man in the front row felt his knees buckle; he collapsed into a chair, his mind unable to comprehend that much wealth. It was likely he would never see that much gold in ten lifetimes.
By the time Ramius finished speaking, the man from this morning was nowhere to be seen. He had slipped away into the shadows once more.
'He ran away again,' Ramius noted coldly. He had ensured that no one in the city, let alone this room, would dare to bid against him.
Krazel was too taken aback to speak. He stared at Jerice, then back at Ramius. 'Is she the reason he was asking about my wife?' he wondered. 'Is this the woman who caught his eye?'
"If... if there are no more bids..." the speaker stammered, his hand shaking. "Then nine hundred gold coins it is!"
The formalities were handled with frantic speed, and Jerice was escorted up to Ramius's private room.
"It's a shame I won't get to meet your companions this evening," Ramius said to Krazel as he prepared to leave. "Perhaps some other time."
Krazel could only offer a stunned, polite smile. "It's no problem at all, Sir Ramius. Please... enjoy your evening."
"Will do."
Ramius walked to his room, his heart thumping a strange, irregular rhythm against his ribs. He pushed the door open. Inside, Jerice was waiting. She was reclined on his bed in an intimate, suggestive position—the standard expectation for a Yemi who had just been "bought."
The sight of it sent a jolt of pure electricity through him, but it wasn't desire. It was fury.
He rushed to her immediately, his movements a blur. Instead of embracing her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her upright, dragging her off the bed.
He knew how the Yeminai worked. These women weren't slaves; they were volunteers who chose to stand on that stage to claim a portion of the massive bids for themselves.
"Are you an idiot, Jerice?!" Ramius barked, his voice laced with a harshness he rarely used. "Why would you volunteer for something like that? What if someone else had bought you? What if it had been that old man, or that stranger?"
He was scolding her with his chest heaving after every harsh word. But then, as if hit by a physical blow, he stopped. He looked at his hand on her arm, then at her startled face.
'Wait a moment,' he thought. 'Why am I so angry? Why am I even scolding her? Just what is happening to me?'