Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Why do you need a pair of daggers?” As one might have expected, it was the fool to speak up, but thankfully it was a mercy he spoke, for if not he, none perhaps would have asked, some due to their apathy, others due to the lack of courage.

“The daggers look the same, so they will look pretty with my niece and nephew.”

Adam smiled, holding the girl’s eyes, the pair flushing lightly. Since she was acting all cool, the half elf crossed his arms, sitting upright. “I suppose if my sister wishes to bid on these daggers, what can I do? Let us see who has pockets deep enough to surpass even my sister!”

The others considered whether they should procure such daggers, but they heard that these handful of Iyrmen who remained nearby were not the only Iyrmen, for most had split off towards each exit, and though most were fairly unknown, the rumours had suggested each was at least a Master, and most were those who reached the realm of Grandmasters.

Ten thousand silver was a fair price, and though some may have bid a touch higher, they would not bid against the girl, for, if their information was to be believed, she spoke of a particular pair of twins, and if it was those twins some had thought of, with each who knew such information shaking their heads to their companions, they allowed the girl to procure these daggers.

The next was a weapon forged of rubicule, not a Masterwork, but it was the gemsteel which was considered the most beautiful, the most desirable, the most worthy within Arisa, and thus the blade began at one thousand silver, roughly half its typical price, though rapidly reached three thousand.

‘A rubicule sword would look good at my side,’ Azim thought, having bid the three thousand silver.

“Five thousand silver,” called a voice, causing many to turn her way.

This time, however, it was the one they least expected to cause such trouble. The woman radiated a bright smile, oppressing even the likes of Azim.

“Five thousand silvers, to our honourable Ray,” Dina declared, pausing a moment, her smile able to disarm the tension still, however, for one particular section to claim three weapons in a row, it was quite the faux pas, but no one would dare to suggest such a thing to a Ray of Life’s Rose.

‘Will I have to give up on this too?’ Azim thought, but as his eyes fell upon a particular figure, they could see how blank his face remained, though bubbling upon the surface was that kind of aura.

The half elf inhaled sharply, because, apparently, threatening others, even as a joke, would put him in deep trouble, and he wasn’t going to ruin their day off like this. “Darling, if you wanted this sword, I would have spent the silver for you.”

“I intend to gift it,” Vonda replied.

“A gift?”

Kal Rushad’s brows twitched lightly.

“We must show mercy. I would not ask you to do so, for you are too loyal, and I would not wish for you to break your loyalty for my sake.”

‘Loyalty?’ Rushad thought, with the understanding it was not a gift for them, for what need of they to speak of loyalty in such a manner about the Scarlet Sun?

“I’ll break a great many things for your sake,” the half elf stated firmly, his words an obvious threat, but directed to no one in particular, just enough so they did not need to step forward at this time.

“You will not need to,” Vonda replied, placing a hand upon her husband’s to ease his tension.

“Who are you gifting it to?” Adam whispered, suddenly relaxing at her touch, since even he wasn’t brave enough to face against his wife.

“I will tell you later,” Vonda whispered, sipping her kafa, for this was where the conversation needed to end.

Vonda managed to procure the blade, that which would need to be gifted away, and would cause her husband a fury, though he would let it go for her sake. A light intermission began after the third weapon’s sale, in which the refreshments were refilled, the desserts devoured, and conversations conspired.

“It seems you are able to spend silver as you able to swing steel,” Rushad teased, his grin wide.

“When in Arisa,” the half elf replied, flashing a wide grin in return.

Rushad thought about warning them, but seeing the many Iyrmen about, he decided against it. His eyes fell upon his apprentice, who remained silent, glancing between the group, and though he was certain they were mostly fools, not Ray Vonda, of course, but her husband, and his brother.

Thankfully, upon the fourth weapon, that particular group did not bid, and though Mohammed wished to, he knew he couldn’t, so he surrendered it, and lightly bid on the fifth weapon. The sixth weapon, too, came and went, and thus the tension in the air dissipated.

“They must have run out of silver,” the uthur merchant joked, certain the group must not have, though she had lost the dagger she wanted to her companion, the Saib.

“Perhaps,” the Saib replied, though slightly more genuine with his tone, for they were but upstarts at the edge of Aldland, and how would they possess such great wealth when they would need to beg the audience of various nobles to sell their wares?

The moustached merchant leaned towards one of his own servants, whispered something into their ear, and sent them on their way.

“My friend, did I oppress you too heavily?” the Saib asked, who eagerly awaited the dagger which he managed to procure, outbidding both his companions.

“My friend, if you wish to speak such words, do not regret it, for my family’s wealth is not small, and if I wish for it, I can claim even one from you,” the moustached merchant replied, a wild grin slipping across his lips.

“I would like to see it!”

“Very well!”

After the light intermission, the seventh, eighth, ninth weapons all sold, each finely crafted, forged of various steels, but it was the last which would bring such excitement for all. After the third light intermission, lasting but a few minutes, it was finally brought.

The wood was pure black, as though made of the void of slumber, and the tip, a beautiful gold, goldsteel, similar to dawngold, but though only those from the Golden Dawn Temple of Her Great Craftsmanship could call their steel such.

It, too, was Masterwork.

“I will begin the bid at ten thousand silver,” the woman said, and though it was spear, it was worth roughly that much. This time, the spear would be sold in a way that was purely for the profit of the smith, for such was this spear, of Masterwork goldsteel.

“I shall raise the bid to eleven thousand,” called the Faro respectfully, for that was her role. Lady al-Yasin, flanked by the Sabres of Dusk, sans his sabres at the moment, admired the spear’s form, slim, the goldsteel almost leafshaped, and even the tip at the bottom of the spear was goldsteel.

“Then I will raise it to twelve thousand,” Azim Shums called, brushing his beard, for this kind of spear, could he allow it to slip out of his hands so easily?

“Shukhur, I will raise it to thirteen thousand,” Mohammed said, his eyes meeting Azim’s gaze, the pair battling with their eyes as well as their coffers.

“Fourteen thousand, for such a fine spear, it is worth at least that much,” a middle aged man called. He was adorned in cream, wearing a vest of scarlet, a sea of silver suns prancing brightly. He wore a simple hat, his moustache and beard thick, neatly trimmed and lined, and though his skin was dark, his eyes were darker. As the heir of one of Arisa’s handful of Niza, though he swore loyalty to the Faro as even the lesser Saib, how could he allow her to claim such a fine spear?

“Fifteen thousand,” called a particular fool, who held his chin, head slightly tilted, an eye closed, another narrowed, as though assessing the spear, though what did he need to assess?

Masterwork.

Goldsteel.

Yes.

This spear was the spear.

It was the tenth weapon, but this group had already claimed three, and yet they seemed to wish to claim another?

“It is a fine spear,” Mohammed confirmed. “You have already claimed three fine weapons, do you also require this spear?”

“It is a beautiful spear, finely made, and it is this spear which I think is acceptable to show my filial piety to my grandmother.”

“Is the sword not suitable?”

“I am fortunate to have two grandmothers,” Adam replied, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk, doing his best not to tease the old man too much. However, even he was too embarrassed to look to his side, in which his grandmother was ready to catch his eyes to tease him.

Mohammed flushed lightly at the half elf’s words, reaching up to sip on his kafa, for how could this fool of a half elf manage to strike back so swiftly, and so obviously, for of course he had two grandparents, one of whom who sat right beside him, wielding a spear.

‘If he wishes it for his grandmother…’ Sabreen al-Yasin thought, with the understanding it might be difficult to bid on this spear. She could, but there was no need to even allow annoyance to bloom between them at this time. It was easy enough to surrender.

“I will raise it to sixteen thousand,” the heir called, brushing his beard gently, a gentle smile upon his lips.

“I, too, will raise it,” Mohammed said, managing to speak before the half elf. “Seventeen thousand.”

“Oh ho?” Adam said, sitting up taller, his brows raised in surprise, the half elf’s lips forming into a wider smile. “You wish to covet a gift meant for my grandmother?”

“I have to bid at least this much, for the great smith’s sake,” Mohammed replied, with the understanding the half elf was flying far too close to the sun with his words, however, he smiled wider, ready to spar with the half elf.

“For my grandmother, is eighteen thousand silver too little?” Adam asked, holding up a dagger like finger, for he was his daughter’s father, his grandmother’s grandson, and a fool indeed.

Mulrot smiled, turning, though her smile faltered slightly, and for once, she regretted not forcing her husband to come along.

“Nineteen thousand,” the heir called, for he was more than willing to go to war with the half elf on such a battlefield.

“Twenty thousand,” called another, who had spoken up for the first time, causing many to turn towards him, though they did not have to look at another section, for of course, it was in that section.

Adam turned his head slowly, his lips forming a tiny circle of shock. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“It is a fine spear,” he replied, sitting tall and proud with his arms crossed, all the while Pam hid her eyes from the gazes of the world. “It would look good at my grandmother’s side.”

“Thirty thousands of silver!” called a voice, punching the air as if to accentuate her point. “It is a fine spear! It would look good at my grandmother’s side!”

Mulrot closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. ‘Oh dear.’

Pam also closed her eyes, an arm wrapped around her sister who terrified her so.

The auction woman wasn’t sure if the girl was serious, her eyes falling to the girl’s siblings, then slowly turned towards the middle aged woman who had fed the girl slowly, and had yet to bid.

“If it was my brother, I would dare to face him in the area of silver and gold, but since my sister has bid…” Adam curled a finger over his lip, for even he did not possess such courage.

Jurot remained silent, peeking down at his sister, who side eyed him, her own arms crossed as she dared him to bet against him. “I must surrender too.”

‘Does that mean…’ Dina’s eyes fell between the two and then to Lanarot, and within her heart, she wished someone else would bid. However, thirty thousand silver, three thousand gold, was almost as much as a Greater Enhanced weapon.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Lanarot might be the funniest.