"Your Highness Velen, I believe you now! My father even asked me to deliver a message to you... he said, when you're 'training' me, make sure to be... a little rougher..."
By the end, Sherlock's face was filled with unease. He could hardly believe those words actually came from his father.
Rougher? What kind of training?
Velen looked completely baffled, unable to make sense of the message at all.
"Never mind that. Just take me to a quiet guest room for now," he said, brushing the matter aside.
Inside the guest room.
"Your Highness Velen, earlier you mentioned needing my help. May I ask what it's about?" Sherlock asked respectfully.
"Spread the word—we're hosting an auction at noon."
Since they'd missed the scheduled auction, Velen had simply decided to throw one himself. That idea had popped into his head the moment he learned of Sherlock's identity.
A last-minute auction?
Sherlock froze on the spot.
