Chapter 638: Here it start (1/2)
”The current owner of such piece is none other than the Viscount of Glenda, dubbed the Devil of Glenda for single-handedly fighting off an army of seven thousand. As was his uncle, the nephew has turned the heads of many in the world with hero-like exploits. The reason I bring the heritage in question is to prove a point, anyone who bears the Haggard name is destined for greatness.” Without further ado, the piece arrived on stage on a red cushion. The atmosphere tensed, the words sucked out their lips. Close-ups of the object on the screen had the rich visibly salivating. Collectors, big spenders, nobility, lineage didn't matter, the item was worth the wait.
”Lady Sophie,” gestured Igna, ”-I see you're perplexed as to why the auction didn't go as predicted. Look at their faces,” he pointed through parted curtains, ”-they are being safe. The main piece of tonight belongs to us,” he smirked, ”-the starting bid is 20 million, I'm expecting the price to fetch twice the price. Currently, the most expensive jewelry sold was the signet ring from the Emperor of Svinda in the 40 million range.”
”About our fee.”
”2 million,” he replied nonchalantly, ”-I've transferred 2 million. Should cover the expenses for tonight,” giving a side-glance, ”-must be worth its fair share.”
”You're indeed very shrewd,” she watched attentively, ”-paying 2 million without the bidding, how confident.”
”Tis the way the people feel,” the lens slyly displayed details of the resident watchers. Net worth and spending power were lit in five grades, C, B, A, and S. From lowest tier, 100,000 to 1,000,000. Next up, 1,000,000 to 10,000,000. Afterward, 10,000,000 to 50,000,000, and lastly, 50,000,000 to 100,000,000. The vast majority were in the C to B grade. Three A grade and two S grade. The starting bid priced out the two-bottom tier. The information showed the A graders to be nobles and the S graders as collectors. ”-They'll pay, I can bet my life on it,” he focused on suited man bearing one of the five conglomerates crest, the last of the five; Stiol. Their focus is dealing in arts and culture, they buy, sell, collect, and make a lot of money via connections to hidden millionaires spread across the globe. In layman's terms, one can say, their trade is to spend money for others.
'The heritage and magical property are too big a fish to pass.' Moments from the auctioneer's grand slam, ”-over here,” hailed Igna. The pressured onlookers snapped at the interruption; a crack glazed across the frozen landscape.
”What's the meaning of this,” elbowed Sophie, ”-please.”
”No, no,” he ignored her plea, ”-I have business with the auctioneer.”
”Please ladies and gentlemen, the owner has requested a pause. We'll have a short break.” Exasperation perturbed the tranquility, the announcement relieved many, *clop, clop, clop,* sharp steps against the wooden stage pulled the reins. The elated man viciously snatched the microphone and glared the onlookers.
”Igna Haggard,” said he, ”-I apologize for the interruption for you see,” he placed a letter into the baffled man's hand, ”-I forgot a crucial part of the piece. The legitimacy of my uncle's belonging is bound to be questioned. Therefore, in said envelop rests a handwritten letter, signed and stamped by the Ardanian Crest, from the late king. I'll say it bluntly, the price of 20 million is far too little for what I possess, the evaluation was only for the gem itself, not the heritage. As Candice said, the auction will resume after a break,” he shrewdly pulled the mic closer, ”-who knows, the item might not be for sale by the time it restarts.” *Snap,* the stage blackened.
”What was that about?” interjected Candice, ”-the clients will be annoyed by the insolence.”
”I'm of noble birth,” he said, ”-there's no worth in me to care for others. I only but need to fulfill my agenda,” off the stage and to the back, ”-Lady Sophie,” they crossed shoulders, ”-watch the drama unfold.”
Emptied street save a few dubious characters, ”-Lord Asmodeus,” said Éclair, ”-is the straightforward approach necessary?” The blacked-out jeep roamed to a stop. The neighborhood dubbed Alice's Nightmare. Backpedal a few hours ago, Kul impatiently asked for a ride to the gang's hangout spot. The sheer drive swept Esvalo off his feet.
”Very much so,” firmed the prince, ”-don't dillydally, driver, take us to their hangout.”
”Yes sire,” said an unknown face. Frequent amber-lit lamps passed their stead, the roads were ragged. Walls coated in spray paint of various gangs. Hurdled groups of four and five gave stern once over. The main road narrowed into rock and excrement littered alleys. The buildings took on an ugly appearance. Metal roofs, uncemented walls, broken cars, and rusted metal spikes and bats, residents would often glance through their opened doors. Curtains to the latter swayed unknowingly – on closer inspection, the audible scenery didn't amount to much. A life of underhanded tricks had the common perpetrators, narcotics, violence, and lust. The last of the three was very apparent deeper into the prison-like layout of the buildings. Ladies in skimpy outfits puffed smoke. Stray members of gangs continually pestered and threw disgusting glances. They would but reply the same, ”-money or drugs, I ain't doing this for free, you ugly motherfucker.”
They crossed the 'tamed' side to the 'animalistic' realm. Here, visitors were shunned. A poorly lit junkyard hosted unknown vehicles. Belt against flesh, distant gunfire, guttural screams, and lastly, a gang of fifteen white-hooded men.
”Ay, ay,” said one confidently stepping in the street, ”-stop down there,” he yelled.
”Sire, what should I do?” sweated the driver.
”Do as he says,” replied Asmo, and so, the jeep pulled to the curb.
*Knock, knock,* the tainted window rolled to show a melancholically faced Kul and the ever-playful Asmodeus.
”Damn, you guys are dressed nicely, too nice for this part of the town. What brings you here,” inquired the 'talker' of the group.
”We're looking for the 50 blood brothers,” said Asmo, ”-we heard about the story of the suicide at the red-light district.”
The response didn't spring much of anything, aside from the hooded outfits, the skull-designed masks hid the intent. The 'talker,' nodded to whisper into another's ear. They came to an understanding and said the following, ”-best turn around. We don't want to cause trouble to unknowing visitors. We go by the name of Liie, our presence here is to stop unfortunate souls from straying too far. Turn the jeep around and don't look back.”
”I'm sorry,” cried Asmo disrespectfully, ”-did I ask for directions?”
”You don't want to start trouble dude,” said the talker.
”Might I intrude,” voiced Éclair, ”-the business of which we're here pertain nothing to the lies of Liie. As guard-dogs of the ruling gang, do mind thy station and let us pass.”
”What if I say no?” he pulled his gun, ”-you lot don't get the right to demand shit. Tis an order, turn around or die.”