PftA Book 4 - Chapter 41- Auctions and Invitations

“The next item up for bid is a glaive crafted by Master Smith Kineis of the Hephaistos Sect,” the smartly dressed auctioneer declared. “The metal used in its construction was donated by Marchioness Adamsteel and has been enchanted with [Durability], [Self-Repair], and [Perpetual Sharpness.] The bidding with start…”

I glanced at Zavira and her date, the Marchioness’s son. They’d joined us in the private booth I’d been given as one of the event’s special guests.

“Already collaborating?” I asked with a grin. I was keeping an eye on the auction out of curiosity but felt no need to focus on each bid.

“The Marchioness has had a contract with the sect for longer than I’ve been alive,” Zavira replied with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “It has nothing to do with us.”

“Uh huh, sure it doesn’t,” I joked. “Is that contract going to change if the two of you decide to get married?”

The question was meant as a joke, but Zavira and Kestin immediately started nodding.

Kestin leaned forward and said, “Naturally, the contract would be revised for the duration of our marriage. Such things are standard among noble families. It’s why marriage contracts seldom exceed a century.”

I released a heavy breath. I’d forgotten that higher-tier individuals tended to enter marriage contracts for a specific number of years (or offspring). It kinda made sense, given their longevity, but the concept still struck me as odd.

“What if you still love each other at the end of the contract?” I asked.

“Then we extend it,” Zavira said with a look like the answer was obvious. I supposed it was.

“The glaive sold for more than expected,” Kai interjected, drawing our attention back to the auction.

“I can’t imagine spending that much on a weapon,” Dad said quietly from his seat behind me. “That’s more than most mid-tiers would earn in a lifetime.”

It was, but that was to be expected, given the weapon’s tier and quality. Those stuck at Tier Five or Six would likely never be able to afford even the cheapest Tier Eight items.

Several more items were auctioned, and I found myself looking at the details listed on the crystalline display in front of me more frequently than I had for the first half of the event.

A few items were interesting enough that I was tempted to put forth an anonymous bid, but I restrained myself since I still hadn’t gone through all the items I’d purchased with Bell and Zavira on our shopping spree.

“Your item is coming up next,” Dad pointed out while nudging my arm. “Do you think it’ll sell well?”

“Oh, it’ll probably spark a bidding war if the right people are here,” Zavira said confidently.

“You really think so?” I asked.

“Of course! Even I’m tempted to bid on it since you didn’t see fit to gift your very best friend with a master recipe crystal,” Zavira said with a fake pout. “After all we’ve been through, you’d think I’d be the first one to get a copy of all the MealMaker recipes, but no! You’re donating it to charity.”

I chuckled at my friend’s antics. There was undoubtedly some truth to her comments, but I didn’t think she was as upset as she made it seem.

“Well, I had to make the item special. I didn’t think a ‘special edition’ MealMaker was going to be enough on its own.”

I was going to say more, but the auctioneer started speaking, and I wanted to hear how he introduced my item.

“This next lot was hand-crafted by Epikairos Sect’s very own tri-affinity mage, Elder Emie Momentia.”

A murmur of interest rippled over the audience. I also noticed several individuals in the private booths around me shifting for a better look.

“Many people don’t know this, but the MealMaker produced and marketed by the Epikairos Sect was actually designed by Elder Momentia when she was just a Tier Two Enchanter.”

The information caused more whispers, which surprised me a bit. I would have thought that my association with the device was already widely known.

“Today’s item is a special version of the popular meal-making device. Not only is it capable of creating portions of various sizes, but this one-of-a-kind edition also comes with a copy of the sect’s master crystal, providing more than ten thousand unique recipes for the buyer lucky enough to win this lot.

“This device is also enchanted to adjust its size based on the user’s needs. It can shrink small enough to fit into a pocket—” The auctioneer demonstrated by shrinking the item on display to a roughly two-inch cube. “—or grow to accommodate family-sized portions.”

Again, the device shifted. This time, it grew to something close to a standard oven in size and appearance.

The auctioneer went on to demonstrate how the device worked, producing a mouth-watering array of foods right there on the stage. Even at a distance, I could smell the spices infused into the dishes.

It made my stomach rumble, which I was sure was the man’s intention.

“And just like the original, this MealMaker ensures there is no waste. Whatever isn’t consumed can be used to fuel the next meal.” He placed the many dishes back into the expanded device and touched the control rune.

“Or, perhaps, dessert?” the auctioneer added playfully before opening the door to reveal a masterpiece of chocolate.

It was enough to motivate several attendees to immediately start bidding. I didn’t blame them. Food was a huge motivator for me, too. If I hadn’t been the creator of the device, I probably would have jumped in on the bidding.

“Oh, he’s good,” Zavira said, leaning back in her seat. “It’s been long enough that people are starting to get hungry again, but not so long that the approach would be deemed uncouth. Based on the bidders’ reactions, it seems we aren’t the only ones largely guided by our stomachs.”

 = = =

The auction ended about a half-hour later, and I quickly dropped Dad and Caesi off at their home on Hadier. They were both anxious to get back home before the kids woke up, which I understood.

Having had my fill of social interactions for a good, long time, I escaped to my personal dimension and cranked up the time dilation, hoping I’d be able to recover some social stamina before I needed to interact with anyone else.

I wasn’t worried about missing out on communication now that I’d anchored a pin-sized portal to my residence on Aegeas. It wasn’t enough to do anything other than allow system communication through, but that was all I really needed.

It did remind me that I needed to challenge a rift and see if the functionality of my personal dimension remained unchanged. Being able to enter and exit a rift freely would have huge implications for my time in the dungeon, though I doubted it would work the way I hoped.

I suspected my pocket dimension would work much like shared or linked dimensional storage devices. If someone went into a rift with such a device, they’d still be able to use it for storage, but they’d lose access to anything already stored inside unless the others with access were with them in the rift.

There was just something about rifts that messed with dimensional spaces. It was probably because they were technically separate dimensions themselves.

“Welcome home,” Lisa greeted me. Her avatar was able to freely manifest within the pocket dimension since I’d dispersed anchoring cubes around the space.

“Hey, Lisa. How’s the garden?”

As a semi-corporal Mana Intelligence, Lisa was able to handle most of the day-to-day requirements for my garden. With the help of Kai, Bell, and Zavira, I’d transformed the hodgepodge of flora that I started with into something more closely resembling a real garden.

“It is doing well. I made a few small adjustments to the environment along the edges to better suit the high-elevation herbs you brought in a couple of weeks ago, and the changes appear to be improving the overall health of the plants.”

“What kind of changes?”

“Slightly weaker gravity than the standard on [Unnamed Nine], stronger winds, cooler temperatures, and a thinner atmosphere.”

Those made sense, given the origin of the species I’d collected.

“Additionally,” Lisa continued, “The third harvest was placed into stasis. You wanted me to remind you to give some of the brightberries and pyrals to your mother. She enjoyed the last basket you gave her.”

“Thanks,” I said, remembering the request.

Mom had to mix the fruit with weaker substances to be able to comfortably consume them, but a single berry mixed with a scoop of Tier One ice cream resulted in the equivalent of a Tier Five snack. It made the fruit particularly valuable on lower-tier worlds.

I really didn’t care much about the value of the gift. I just wanted to give my mom something that made her happy. Aside from food and gifts, I didn’t really know how else to do that.

Kaylee was supposed to be visiting Mom in a few days, and I hoped to visit while she was still there. Dropping off another basket of fruit would be an excellent excuse to pop in.

Since Kaylee was also an Alchemist, I hoped she’d be interested in some of the herbs I was growing. She probably wouldn’t be able to use any of them without significantly diluting them, but that was fine.

I even had several herbs that worked particularly well for beasts and demis with more beast-like features. They’d likely be valuable on Morkin, the demi home world where Kaylee had settled.

“You received an invitation to the next Council ball.”

I paused halfway down the stairs and looked back at the avatar. “When?”

“Just now. It seems your social debut opened the door for similar events,” Lisa informed me before teleporting to the bottom floor where I kept my workstations. “Two additional invitations were also just forwarded through your sect profile.”

I groaned and continued down the stairs. I could easily teleport, but I’d decided years earlier not to waste the mana to teleport short distances when a manual route was available.

It helped me remember my roots.

“Please screen everything and provide a list at the end of every day. We should probably start having regular meetings so nothing is overlooked. I’d hate to cause problems that could be avoided by making a little effort. Does the Council ball conflict with anything else on my schedule?”

“No.”

With a resigned sigh, I said, “Then add it to my calendar and send back an affirmative response, please. Remind me to purchase the appropriate attire if necessary.”

“The black version of what you’re wearing now should suffice.”

I glanced down, momentarily forgetting that I was wearing the equivalent of a formal gown. It was far more comfortable than I expected.

With a flex of will, I unequipped the elaborate outfit and replaced it with a comfortable fleece bodysuit made for at-home wear. Bell had bought it for me when we were out shopping, and I loved it.

It was basically a set of footed pajamas for an adult. The thing was ridiculously comfortable. I’d wear it all the time if I could.

Unfortunately, going out in public wearing at-home wear was hugely frowned upon. If that trend had ever existed, it had passed long before Earth was reintegrated into the Alliance.

“Since there will probably be more invitations, I’ll decide on the others later,” I said as I settled into my primary workstation. “I’ve got some crafting to do, and then I’m going to veg out and watch some old movies for a couple of days. It’s been ages since I did that.”

I saw how Zavira had looked at the MealMaker I’d put up for auction. Knowing how much of a foodie she was, it only made sense for me to make her an advanced version of her own.

I’d updated the original MealMaker she’d entered the dungeon with a couple of times, but I’d only just come up with the size-changing feature.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to make her a Tier Nine version as well since the amount of mana infused into the food was based on the tier of mana used to create it. It was far easier to use weaker mana in such an item than to infuse stronger mana into a weaker device.

 The real question was whether I should give it to her right away or save it for her wedding present. From the way things were going, I suspected Zavira and Kestin would announce their engagement soon enough.

Limited marriages were still such a weird concept, but I knew that was just my short-lived Earthborn sensibilities coming into play.

But for now, I’d be happy for my friend. If she ended up regretting the agreement… well, a hundred years really wasn’t that long for someone at Tier Eight. And, worst case, she could just reenter the dungeon until the marriage contract expired, provided there were no stipulations preventing it.

Being married did not mean a couple had to cohabitate, after all.