Chapter 145: The Price of a Bluff
The air in the lighthouse was so thick with tension you could have cut it with one of Elisa’s swords. Every single Candidate in the room, from the hulking Dwarf in the front row to the shadowy assassins in the back, was staring at Nox.
’He doesn’t have twenty-one Flags,’ Serian thought, her hand tightening on the hilt of her sword. ’This was a bluff. He challenged a monster like Ragnar with a bluff. We are all going to die here.’
Elisa, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with a manic energy. ’Yes! This is it! A huge, bloody brawl with the biggest guy in the room! I knew I liked this human!’
Mela just stood there, her face a mask of cold, professional dread. ’He’s insane. We followed a complete lunatic into a den of wolves, and now he’s trying to pick a fight with the alpha. I am going to die because of this human’s ego.’
On the central platform, The Collector’s polite smile never wavered. He simply held out a hand, a silent, expectant gesture. "The payment, if you please, Candidate Nox. Twenty-one Flags. The price was agreed upon."
Nox met his gaze across the silent room. He didn’t have twenty-one Flags. He had exactly three. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest, most reckless thing he had ever done. And he didn’t regret a single second of it.
"I don’t have them," Nox announced, his voice echoing in the sudden, dead silence.
A collective gasp went through the crowd. A few of the Candidates actually started laughing.
"He bid without the funds?" the Ironbeard Dwarf boomed, his laughter shaking his braided beard. "The human is either brave or a complete fool!"
"He is a dead man," the Ashen Elf woman from the earlier bid stated, her voice full of a cold satisfaction.
The Collector’s smile did not falter. If anything, it widened just a fraction. "Indeed. A violation of the rules of my auction is a serious offense." He paused, letting the threat hang in the air. "However... I find myself in a generous mood. And your performance thus far has been... exceptionally interesting."
He steepled his fingers, his pale blue eyes fixed on Nox. "I am a storyteller, Candidate Nox. A patron of the arts. And a story requires a compelling protagonist. Ragnar is strong, but he is a blunt instrument. Predictable. You, on the other hand..." He let out a soft chuckle. "You are a beautiful, chaotic variable. You are a story I wish to see unfold."