Cane turned suddenly, sensing something.
Nothing.
His eyes swept the area. Had he not experienced it before, he might have let it go. But that subtle vibration—like the shift of a heartbeat out of rhythm—spoke of someone moving between.
A sword vanished from the display.
Instantly, the unremarkable porter assisting the auction floor slammed a mage's staff to the ground. Runes bloomed outward in rippling arcs.
Telamon sensed the shift but withheld aid, his eyes fixed on Cane.
An elf thief?
Cane had felt this before—pulled between by Moriwynn during the Summer's Festival Dance. It was that space hidden behind the fabric of reality, where matter frayed and bent. He closed his eyes, focusing.
The blade he had sung into existence whispered to him.
"There."
He thrust his arm forward. Half of his body disappeared into the between, shimmering like water rippling in reverse. His hand closed around something solid—a startled elf clad in black leather. With a single pull, Cane dragged him into the real.
The elf grimaced, still gripping the stolen sword as Cane took a slow step back.
"Were you going to steal that?" Cane asked evenly. He made no move to fight—he knew well the physical edge elves carried. But that didn't matter now.
The elf's expression shifted, aggression bleeding into restraint. "Yes," he admitted. "I was. How did you reach me?"
Before Cane could answer, a shimmering field locked over the elf's body, freezing him in place.
Footsteps followed—the sharp, deliberate tapping of Telamon's cane echoing like a landslide.
"Do the people of the Sunset Court wish to provoke my Magi Academy?" the Archmage asked coolly.
The elf shook his head—not afraid, but clearly rattled. "You're the human Archmage. But… you didn't pull me out. He did."
He glanced toward Cane with disbelief.
"You must be Elohan," Telamon said, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. "The thief they whisper about."
Elohan opened his mouth. "I don't beli—"
Blur.
Telamon moved. A gentle palm struck the elf's shoulder. His other hand plunged inward and pulled.
Elohan screamed.
The calm blue of his eyes bled into crimson rage, but he was frozen in place, powerless.
Telamon lifted something—a small, glowing crystal. As it cleared the air, a sound like a thousand galloping horses tore through the room and then vanished into silence.
Elohan gasped, eyes wide. "W-What have you done?"
Telamon turned the crystal in his fingers, and its light pulsed like a heartbeat. "In terms you can understand…" he said softly, "I removed your ability to move between."
Telamon opened a rift with a flick of his cane. "Enter and wait for my return. Cause no mischief and speak only to say you are now my guest."
"T-This won't do!" Elohan snapped. "I'm a member of the Sunset Court! You can't just capture and hold me—"
Telamon's laugh was devoid of warmth. "Perhaps you'd prefer I escort you to the Sunset Forest myself and discuss your actions with Rathynor. If I recall, there's a kill on sight notice with your name on it."
Elohan hesitated, then adapted like the survivor he clearly was. "How long?" he asked. "You want something from me?"
"I want nothing," Telamon replied. "Just a bit of your time. What's a few years to an immortal? Then I'll return what I've taken."
Elohan narrowed his eyes. "And payment?"
"I return what I've taken," Telamon repeated, voice hardening. "So. Will it be the Magi Academy… or the Sunset Forest?"
A beat passed. Then Elohan stepped toward the rift.
"Magi Academy," he muttered. He paused at the threshold, casting a long, sour glare at Cane before vanishing through.
Cane:Exciting…
Clara:What did you do? Your whole upper body disappeared—I almost died from fright.
Fergis:That was an elf? Doesn't his presence violate the pact?
Sophie:Goodness… He didn't look very happy.
Cane laughed. "I believe you're all right."
Clara and Fergis joined in, though Clara still looked slightly shaken.
The porter, now staff-less, approached and bowed low. "My sincerest apologies, sir. Nothing like this has ever happened before."
Cane shrugged. "Elves. They do live up to their reputations."
The porter nodded solemnly.
"For crying out loud, boy—" Brammel's boots thudded across the floor. "I leave you alone for two minutes and the world crumbles."
"How is this my fault?" Cane asked, throwing up his hands.
Brammel stabbed the air with a thick finger. "No brawls. No thwarted assassinations. No broken windows!"
"So… if someone's getting assassinated, I should just… look the other way?" Cane asked dryly, grabbing Sophie's hand.
"Oy! No one likes a smart arse," Brammel huffed, but the corners of his eyes danced with mirth.
"I still like you, Cane," Sophie added with a smile. "Even if you're one of those smart thingies."
Brammel and Telamon vanished into a throng of important-looking people, leaving the four youths on their own.
Fergis led the group to a series of jewelry displays, each protected under shimmering glass.
"This one's the copper storage ring," he said, pointing. "Buyout's a hundred platinum. I'm grabbing Dhalia's now before I forget."
Clara nodded. "Aren't you getting one, too?"
"I am," Fergis replied. "But I'm going a bit better." He paid the buyout with a confident swipe. "You bidding, or what?"
Clara chewed her nail, eyeing the copper ring. "How much better? More space? Does it make breakfast? I need details, Fergis!"
Cane chuckled at her antics, squeezing Sophie's hand. "Get one if you want."
Sophie bit her lip. "I want one… but that's too much."
"It's fine," Cane said gently. "In fact, get three. I know your mum and dad could use them in the shop."
Sophie hugged him, shaking her head. "I can't…"
"Then just one," he said. "For the shop. Your mum's share from those dresses won't even be scratched by a hundred platinum. We can fill it with different fabrics, too."
Sophie smiled, softened by his tone. "Okay… I'll get one for the tailor shop."
They lingered while Sophie placed her bid, then caught up with Fergis and Clara farther down the display hall.
Fergis:Check this out, Cane. Five hundred platinum for the silver storage ring. It's got twenty times the space—and it can store bonded pets temporarily.
Cane bent to read the placard. "There's a warning. Live creatures might die while stored. That's a problem."
Fergis: Kind of deceptive, yeah. Time still flows. They sleep, but they'll still starve or dehydrate if left too long. It's for short hauls.
In the end, Clara circled back and bought the copper ring. Cane and Fergis both went with the silver model. While Sophie browsed through bolts of fabric, Cane quietly bought her one as well.
Just then, Cane's runic chit buzzed.
"We've got to get back," he said. "The auction's starting."
Sophie grabbed his hand, her excitement lighting up her face. "I wish Mum were here. She'd go crazy over all these fabrics. I think I spent way too much… but I promise I'll pay you back."
"You're not paying me back," Cane said easily. "Those are for your mum—my business partner. I should help with production costs."
Sophie narrowed her eyes, leaning into him with a grin. "You're becoming very sneaky."
"I've always been sneaky," Cane said with a wink.
At the entrance to the upper private booths, Nina was already waiting for them. She handed Cane a single-page menu.
"Going to eat this time, Cane?"
"Yes," he replied. "I'll have the chicken you boxed for me last time. Some red wine, too."
He glanced at Sophie, who looked unsure.
"Can you recommend something light?" she asked Nina.
Nina smiled. "A cheese and meat biscuit. It's one of my favorites."
Sophie nodded. "Yes, please."
Though she was technically assigned to both Cane and Sophie, Nina didn't seem to mind—moving gracefully between the two. With food ordered and everyone settled, conversation eased into quiet warmth beneath the soft lighting and distant hum of voices.
"Want to sit with me?" Cane asked, glancing over his shoulder.
The seats were oversized and staggered—plenty of room and no blocked views.
Sophie blushed slightly. "Is there room?"
Cane patted the space beside him and shifted over. "Plenty."
She sat down beside him, feeling the plush seat and his warmth beside her. She cast a quick glance toward Nina.
"Is this okay?" she asked quietly.
Nina gave a small nod. "It's fine. Kind of sweet, actually."
The stage was cleared. The only figure visible had his back turned, casually scanning through notes and making a few last-minute edits. After a moment, he tucked them into his storage ring and turned to face the crowd with a dazzling smile.
"Greetings, my friends."
The auctioneer's voice rang out, magically enhanced—not loud, not forced, but perfectly clear to every corner of the room.
"How is everyone today?"
He strolled to the front of the stage, gesturing for his assistant to join him with a theatrical sweep.
Fergis:What the heck is he doing?
Sophie: Is he acting… weird?
Cane:This is different from last time.
Clara:How long until the food gets here?
"Lots of VIPs today," the auctioneer said, taking a slow breath as if savoring the atmosphere. "Excitement in the air—you can feel it, can't you?"
He paused, then gestured toward the glass display near the center of the room.
"How many of you noticed the armed guards posted beside that lovely little case?"
Fergis:I see now… what a wily bastard.
Clara:What? What is he doing?
"Inside that display," the auctioneer continued, voice almost reverent, "is Cane's Folly. The mythic arrow that annihilated the Black Legion—their beasts, their beastmasters… and Tyrant Bex, the self-proclaimed Blood King."
He paced the edge of the stage, voice lowering slightly.
"Some say that arrow changed the course of the war."
Fergis:He's laying it on thick… wait for the big finale.
"And now… how many of you know that the genius behind Cane's Folly is with us today?"
He made a show of scanning the upper booths. "Mr. Ironheart, would you please stand for a moment?"
Cane let out a long sigh and stood, offering a small wave and a polite, forced smile.
"Just Cane. And thank you for the kind words, but the true credit belongs to the ninety-seven survivors of that battle—and their fallen comrades."
A respectful silence followed, then soft applause.
"Well said," the auctioneer nodded. "Such humility. Truly inspiring."
Cane sat down. Nina, seated nearby, looked clearly annoyed—her lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn't known he was going to do that.
Cane:He has someone modeling the dresses… smart.
Onto the stage glided a woman with catlike grace, her movement smooth, magnetic. She was draped in Glacial Satinum, the interwoven platinum and silk dress shimmering with its soft mana-pulse. A pale blue aura flowed around her, cool and radiant, catching every eye.
"The first of six," the MC announced. "A Satinum dress—interwoven platinum and silk, stitched by the renowned Lorna Sweetwater, finalized with a mythic-rated Glacial Rune by Cane Ironheart."
He paused as the woman turned slightly, catching the light. "Look at that form. That elegance. That effortless beauty…"
He tilted his head.
"…and the dress is nice, too."
Laughter rippled through the room. The model blushed, perfectly timed.
"Jokes aside," he said, raising a hand, "we begin bidding for this Glacial Satinum Frost Dress at twenty thousand platinum."
Cane:Holy crap…
Sophie:Oh my… he said my mum's name. I wish she were here…
Fergis:Serious… From now on, you're buying.
The first dress sold at thirty thousand platinum. The second? Even more. Each one fetched higher bids than the last, with the final dress drawing a staggering forty thousand.
Nina's psi-rune pulsed nonstop as her boss—and her boss's boss—peppered her with messages, making absolutely certain that Cane Ironheart was receiving the royal treatment.
Sophie hid her face in Cane's shoulder, trying not to cry. Her mother had finally achieved a lifelong dream—her dresses, her name, displayed and celebrated in the capital.
Cane leaned toward her, voice low. "What are you going to do with all that?" she whispered.
He shrugged. "Buy a house in the capital," he joked.
"Not a bad idea, actually."
The voice came from several seats away, but somehow sounded like it was right beside him.
Telamon.
"There's a property that's been for sale for quite some time. Bit rundown," the Archmage admitted, "but the location is excellent."
Cane blinked, surprised into silence. He had no idea what a home in the capital cost—but he was certain "hefty" wouldn't even begin to cover it.
"My friends…"
The auctioneer's voice rose again, commanding the room's attention.
"Weren't those dresses magnificent? Congratulations to all our successful bidders."
He held for the applause, then smiled slyly.
"Now, I bet you thought we were finished."
Excited murmurs spread.
"But… we're not."
He gestured, and two armored men joined him on stage. One bore a massive greatsword, easily two meters long. The other wielded one of Cane's creations—one of the sung blades.
"I present to you ten swords," the MC declared, "crafted on the named Resolute forge and enhanced by Cane Ironheart, a Metal Singer."
Telamon's knuckles tightened slightly on his cane.
"These are peerless parrying blades—light, agile, sharp as a dragon's fang. And yet…" the auctioneer grinned, "capable of absorbing the strike of a greatsword and retaliating instantly."
At his signal, the demonstration began.
The greatsword wielder brought down a crushing overhand strike. The defender stepped into it, catching the blow with barely a bend in his knees. He deflected it aside, then flicked the Breel blade lightly—tapping the attacker's shoulders and helmet in rapid succession.
The greatsword turned blue.
Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. Seconds later—it shattered.
Gasps rippled through the hall.
"This sung sword is made from a base of bronze and steel," the auctioneer announced proudly. "A new alloy we call Breel. Light, resilient—perfect for any combat scenario."
He raised the parrying blade, letting the lights dance across its edge.
"Not a scratch. Impossible to dull, chip, or crack. This blade will cut through any known material."
Clara:Is that true?
Cane:Of course not.