A hush fell over the VIP chambers as the new item was brought forward under thick cloth, carried by three armored attendants. The air shifted, and even Mozrael sat up straighter.
The cloth dropped and gasps rippled through the hall.
A black blade rested on velvet, its edge thin as moonlight, but its presence thick with weight. Runes crawled like fireflies across its surface, pulsing with violet heat. Whispers erupted as people started to share their thoughts on the item's worth.
"From the Ruined Maw…"
"A cursed blade—drenched in sovereign blood."
"A relic from the Forgotten Lineage…"
The auctioneer could barely contain himself. "We begin bidding at five hundred thousand gold coins!"
Kesha raised her hand, slowly, but Aramith caught her wrist.
"Wait."
A darkness clung to it, something familiar. His eyes narrowed as he studied it more.
Mozrael looked between them, alert, Kesha's eyes sharpened. "You want it?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, like a queen unsheathing a hidden crown, Kesha smiled—small, calm, and lethal.
He nodded once.
And for the first time that night, her tone shifted.
"Then let's end this properly."
She rose this time and raised her hand.
"Six hundred and fifty thousand."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. She had skipped the minimal raise entirely.
"Finally, some seriousness," the auctioneer whispered.
Another voice rang out. Confident, noble, older.
"Seven hundred thousand."
The attention swerved to a masked man in the lower VIP row. His cloak shimmered like bronze scales, his face obscured by a gold-edged visor. "I'll relieve the children of their playtime."
Kesha tilted her head, amused. "A brave little maggot." Her voice carried through the enchanted acoustics. "Tell me, do you speak for yourself, or is your family crest as flimsy as your nerves?"
The man laughed. "You buy garbage with gold, prattle like a drunk songbird, and now you want a relic of kings? Perhaps if your house name meant anything, you would behave better."
Silence.
Kesha stepped forward, one heel clicking as her voice dipped low. "My trash outbids your lineage and my shoes are worth more than your estate. And I speak as the youngest lady of a land older than your continent's currency."
She turned slightly, glancing at Aramith. "Seven hundred and fifty thousand," she said lazily.
The man's knuckles whitened on the bidding stone. "Eight hundred!"
She didn't even look at him. "Eight hundred and one."
"You—"
"Eight hundred and one," she repeated, slowly, like she were teaching a child how to count.
The crowd was laughing now. The masked noble sat frozen, his rage fighting logic. But he didn't pursue further. He quickly sent one of his members to go find out who Kesha was. The girl was too bold, she had to be backed by a strong force to behave like that.
The auctioneer, beaming as if he'd just witnessed royalty duel, raised his hand.
"Going once… going twice… SOLD! To the radiant young lady in white!"
Thunderous applause. The masked noble couldn't stand it anymore and left in quiet fury.
Kesha plopped back down into her seat, leaned toward Aramith, and whispered with a playful wink, "Now you owe me."
Aramith rolled his eyes but didn't pull away when she nudged his arm.
Mozrael smirked. "You just caused a noble crisis." The scene was funny
Kesha raised her glass. "And got him a shiny toy."
The auctioneer cleared his throat shakily. "Next item... ahem... an enchanted wine decanter forged by moonlight dru—"
But no one was listening. Not anymore.
They were all busy discussing what had just happened, knowing now that no other person would be bold enough to go against Kesha.
Several items later, another legendary item was brought to view.
Unveiled beneath silver velvet was a single vial rested atop a black-silk cushion—its contents glimmering with pale blue liquid that rippled like starlight trapped in ice.
The crowd leaned in.
"Essence of the Iceborne Sovereign," the auctioneer declared, his voice tinged with reverence. "A fragment of the original glacial heart—the core of the storm that buried four nations."
A long silence.
"Opening bid is one hundred thousand gold coins."
Without hesitation, Kesha lazily raised her hand. "One-fifty."
The auctioneer barely caught his breath.
Then, from across the chamber, a silken voice rang out:
"One hundred and sixty thousand."
Eyes turned to a woman in a flowing crimson dress, lips the color of wine, black curls cascading over her shoulders. She sat with poise, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her gaze locked onto Kesha with a faint, knowing smile.
"Lady Valyne of the Solar Spire," someone whispered.
A noble from the Eastern Lands.
Valyne tilted her head mockingly. "Surely the Glacial Empire has no need for what's already flowing in their lands?"
This sudden revelation of Kesha's background sent a wave of awe through the crowd. A few observant ones also noticed that she was with Mozrrael and Aramith, making them a force to be reckoned.
Kesha didn't look at her. She raised a hand again. "One-sixty and one."
A titter of laughter bubbled up from the crowd.
Valyne narrowed her eyes. "Two hundred thousand."
Kesha sipped her drink.
"Two hundred and one."
The auctioneer blinked.
Valyne's fan snapped open with a sharp crack. "Three hundred. You're not the only one who can play royalty."
Kesha finally turned. Her voice rang like frostbite in the moonlight. "No, I play Imperial Bloodline while you play dress-up. Besides, want is different from need; I want it, you need it."
The crowd oohed like children at a duel.
Valyne's smile strained. "If this is about getting something just to increase your status and gain respect, dear, I suggest you let someone who actually has history and status have it."
"Mm," Kesha mused aloud. "You need history, status, and magical enhancements just to get someone to speak your name outside of dinner parties."
Valyne stood, her composure fraying. "You may be a princess, but you're still just a child wearing your mother's throne."
Kesha set down her glass and spoke calmly. "I am the throne," she said.
Her words struck like thunder in snowfall.
"Four hundred thousand," Valyne hissed.
"Nine hundred and one," Kesha said calmly, without looking at her.
Silence.
Valyne's fists tightened on her jeweled clutch. Her sponsor whispered something in her ear, and her face paled. She slumped back into her seat, fuming in silence.
The auctioneer stammered, "Sold! To... Her Imperial Highness, Princess Kesha of the Glacial Empire!"
No applause. Just awe. And a silence that bowed to cold royalty. After learning her true Identity, the people now understood how she could spend so carelessly.
Kesha turned back to Aramith and Mozrael.
"What were we talking about again?" she asked lightly.
Aramith stared at her. "You're terrifying."
Mozrael chuckled. "I love her." Mozrael couldn't help but like how she silenced people who wanted to act high and mighty.
Kesha beamed. "See? Someone appreciates fine snow."
The auctioneer's voice continued faintly in the background, struggling to sell the next item—a sapphire goblet no one cared about anymore.
Once again, her actions had frozen the room.
And no fire dared challenge the ice again.
Time passed, and the auction came to an end with almost every item bought off by Kesha.
Even as nobles poured into the marbled corridors, voices thick with gossip and the clink of jeweled accessories, most spoke of only one thing.
Kesha.
She moved through them like the eye of a storm; calm, elegant, untouchable. Flanked by Aramith and Mozrael, she didn't need to speak. Her presence turned heads.
Through all this, one figure decided not to give up.
"Princess Kesha," Valyne called, her tone laced with venom.
The trio stopped, turning to the stranger.
Valyne approached with a deliberate sway, eyes cold beneath the warmth of her smile. "Quite the performance back there. Theatrics suit you. You should consider a stage."
Kesha raised a brow. "And you should consider silence. It suits failure better."
Valyne's expression didn't waver, but her fingers twitched slightly on the folds of her crimson dress.
"I simply thought," Valyne said with syrupy grace, "we might discuss certain... boundaries. After all, the Glacial Empire is so far north, and this is territory that has nothing to do with you. You wouldn't want to be seen as overreaching."
Kesha's eyes glittered. "Is that a warning?"
Valyne leaned in, lowering her voice. "A gentle one. The world doesn't always bend to cold lineage. You may have bought their attention today, but I can take it tomorrow."
Kesha didn't flinch. She stepped forward, almost nose to nose, her breath like winter air curling between them.
"You think I need to buy attention?" Her tone was soft, lethal. "I inherit it. I walk into a room, and every noble here looks at me like I wrote their taxes and control their borders because I do."
Valyne's jaw clenched. "You—"
"But if you'd like to test how far the Glacial Empire's reach goes, I suggest you whisper to your next sponsor before they leave you in debt again."
Mozrael blinked. "Again?"
Kesha added, turning slightly, "Poor thing. Her last sponsor disappeared after she failed to impress the High Flame Court. Rumor is, he fled to avoid embarrassment. She couldn't behave like a proper lady during some festivities—ust as she's behaving now."
Valyne flushed a violent red. "Those are lies!"
"Oh?" Kesha said sweetly. "Then sue me in court. Go ahead."
Valyne opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
Kesha turned her back with the casual cruelty of the powerful.
"Let her burn herself out," she said, walking away. "Fire always eats its own ashes."
"You're running away?" Valyne refused to give up so easily.
Kesha shook her head, "Tut tut tut. I don't know how gullible you are, but one other thing I believe you failed to notice is where you are. You're in the Vermillion kingdom, and even though you see me accompanying the prince and princess of this very land you stand in, you choose to behave so immaturely."
Valyne couldn't hide her shock as she looked at the two people standing behind Kesha. It was her first time in the Vermillion Kingdom, and she didn't know what those two looked like.
She was left trembling as she thought of what her sponsor would say if word got out that she displeased the prince and princes of the kingdom.
Seeing the expression on Valyne's face brought joy to Kesha's face as she turned back to join Aramith and Mozrael.
Aramith exhaled. "Remind me to never get on her bad side."
Mozrael whispered, "She only does that to those who deserve it."
Behind them, Valyne stood frozen, surrounded by whispering nobles. Not one dared approach her. Not one offered comfort. The whispering crowd began subtly edging away, as though disgrace was contagious and standing too close might even bankrupt their family names.
The sun shone, but she could feel a cold sensation all around, and it wasn't going anywhere.