The next day was agonizingly long, the group kept a lower profile not wanting to risk any possible event that could blow their cover prior to the auction. They gathered around Xavier’s desk and went over what information they had been able to gather while in the city. They knew names and descriptions of individuals suspected to be a part of the Shadow Court, along with the known threat of Halestorm, the Redmaw Reavers, and the potential ally of Lythara Veyne. In turn Xavier, Ella, Lianna, and Sihri reiterated their own role and how they would act according to what would be expected. Ella and Lianna did not hide the fact they were feeling growing anxiety over the potential of being closely scrutinized as the “exotic” pets they were being portrayed as. Sihri, on the other hand, held the forged gladiatorial papers in one hand and clutched her gifted gloved to her chest with the other. Her eyes glimmered with determination as she assured the group she would handle any inspection convincingly, she had actually lived her part recently.

  That evening, Xavier found himself focused on steadying his breathing as he approached the inconspicuous building that the invitation had named. They were in the upper district of Ironhaven, surrounded by villas and estates. The small building seemed to just be another support building for the upper crust of Arenvalis society here in the city.

  As he drew closer however, Xavier’s pulse sped up once again. He had just caught sight of the imposing figures who stood as sentinels outside the entrance to where they were going. Redmaw Reavers, their dark crimson armor etched with faintly glowing ominous runes, radiated violence constrained and disciplined menace. Xavier knew if things went wrong this was likely a suicidal task.

  Focused on maintaining a deliberate calm, Xavier withdrew the small invitation from his satchel. He fingers may have been slightly tighter than actually necessary on the parchment that Lythara had discreetly provided to him the night before. He held the document out to the pair of guards and one of the Reavers took it silently, his cold implacable gaze scrutinizing it with practiced efficiency. After a pause, pregnant with tension, the mercenary nodded curtly and stepped aside to allow entrance. Xavier recovered his invitation thinking to himself that the review of the scrap took far longer than it needed to. With a silent exhale, he walked between the guards and into the entryway bearing the detached mercenary mien required of his Xanthus Vesh persona.

  Once inside Xavier exchanged brief meaningful glances with Ella, Lianna, and Sihri. He signaled them to remain close. Ella held her composed gaze and met his eyes reassuringly. Lianna, her eyes flickered with tension though it was clear she was trying to mask it. He worried most about those two as, though he held their weapons in his satchel, they had to move about unarmed because of their disguises. Sihri, however, marked as a gladiator and his bodyguard, wore her pit fighter gloves, the metal studs in them made them wickedly dangerous in the right hands. She surveyed their surroundings sharply, her movements and posture told of her commitment to the vigilance that would be expected from one in her position.

  Collectively, they descended a narrow stone hewn staircase, the only other exit from the room they had found themselves in. It was dimly illuminated with lanterns that were spaced sporadically along the rough walls. In the distance they could hear a soft hum of conversation that grew louder the deeper they went. As the sounds grew clearer, they could also hear, interspersed, faint strains of haunting music, muted to not overwhelm any conversation that might take place. For the small group, descending the stairs also brought with it a growing sense of foreboding and danger.

  As the stairway ended, Xavier emerged and paused, he was standing on the threshold of a massive subterranean hall. Flickering torchlight illuminated walls and arches festooned with decorations from lavish banners and tapestries, each one depicting scenes of opulence and power. They were a stark contrast to the cruel and humiliating purpose the gala was hosting. The vast chamber was abuzz with subdued conversation, the atmosphere almost festive as it covered the thick intrigue and gilded malevolence.

  Xavier could see beneath the lavish decorations and superficial civility of the event however, and he was quick to see the inherent cruelty. Around the edges of the hall stood heavily guarded cages. Within them were Animari captives displayed like circus animals. Their expressions ranged from a fierce defiant glare to stark and hollow resignation. Chains glinted coldly in the flickering torchlight, the clink of metal on metal audible even under the din of murmuring aristocratic voices. People wandered around the cages, appraising the slaves openly and discussing their value and worth with detached almost clinical tones that chilled Xavier’s spine. The captives, all different species of Animari, were stripped of dignity and decency. Clad in nothing but their chains and collars so they physique and exotic traits were on clear display as they stood under the harsh and appraising scrutiny of those who would potentially buy them.

  Turning from the wanton degeneracy of the slave inspections, Xavier scanned the rest of the room swiftly. He noted elite clientele who walked with a graceful fluidity through the crowds, ruthless intention easily masked by refined appearance and movement. Elsewhere, prominent nobles whispered with a conspiratorial manner to influential merchants. Those small clusters made Xavier take note as they were accompanied by individuals that Xavier had only caught in passing in the city. He remembered Lianna calling them Marked One or Zar’kaan. They stood guard with the most prominent individuals in their own dark and distinctive attire, their subtle infernal traits marking them out. Xavier focused on one of the closest ones and triggered his insight to gain a little more knowledge about them.

  Xavier saw the brief flicker of a notification that was automatically minimized before he received his favorite notification.

  Not having time to deal with the update now he quickly minimized it and turned his attention back to the crowds. His smirk grew a little more genuine as he realized he was better capable of handling what might happen tonight.

  With an ease that they had long practiced since arriving in the city, Xavier guided his “property” through the crowds and deeper into the throng as he carefully selected a position that would offer him clear sight into the auction area while also giving them more shelter from undue attention. Every step he took, every gesture made was done with subtle calculation, the whole groups survivability hinged delicately on the precarious strength of their fa?ade.

  The whole event ground on Xavier’s resolve. His Unyielding Liberator trait demanded that he react and tear the whole thing down. Witnessing firsthand the true cruelty, not just the casual markets above, but the focused treatment of the Animari tested his restraint. He closed his eyes a moment as he steeled himself, it was quite likely just a dream to eradicate the clearly entrenched and expansive slavery system. However, he was more determined to decisively end the compulsory enslavement of the Animari peoples. That more pragmatic and focused goal steadied his nerves and sharpened his gaze while he braced for the challenges of the evening. Unexpectedly this brought about a change to his trait.

  Again, after quickly reading the prompt, he closed it and returned his attention to his surroundings. His gaze swept through the crowds methodically absorbing every detail he could find. Immediately he recognized Lord Estivar, the noble confidently navigated his way through the hall. The calculated ease underscored his experience in this arena. Every so often Estivar would stop and exchange hushed words with shadowy figures, their expressions cold and composed, eyes betraying subtle infernal traits that Xavier was starting to associate with the higher echelon of those with actual power here.

  The Zar’kaan, or Marked Ones, were clearly selected as elite protectors for those with hidden power. They hovered protectively near their selected clients. As Xavier studied each of them their infernal heritage manifested through distinctive traits, horns curling subtly from their brows, eyes glowing faintly with a sinister hue, and tails that moved almost independently, their spade-like tips subtly indicating moods or intentions. Their silent yet palpable menace radiated throughout the chamber, distinct from the disciplined stance of the Redmaw Reavers. It made Xavier consider a moment how structured and controlled the mercenary group was, his admiration for the control of Lythara over her minions was.

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  Turning his focus back to Estivar, Xavier’s jaw tightened imperceptibly as he observed the noble’s interactions. Notably, the noble’s manner was comfortably authoritative as he moved through the influential attendees. Estivar briefly caught Xavier’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed slightly in quiet recognition, curiosity, and a cold suspicion. Xavier maintained his composure, allowing no hint of reaction to surface, before smoothly diverting his attention as though dismissing Estivar as inconsequential.

  Beside him, Lianna subtly stiffened, sensing the rising tension in Xavier. He gently brushed his fingers against her wrist quietly reassuring her, which drew an almost imperceptible nod in response. Ella, ever watchful, shifted discreetly closer, her stance subtly protective of Xavier, yet carefully subservient.

  Sihri, remained vigilant and composed. She continued to project the fierce resolve of her gladiator persona. Her alert gaze never settled too long, constantly assessing potential threats. The subtle intensity she radiated served as both reassurance and warning, a clear sign of her readiness to defend the group if needed and her hands slowly clenched and unclenched making the leathers of her gloves creak slightly.

  Xavier exhaled slowly, the motion reinforcing the appearance of detached confidence that was expected from a mercenary of his supposed reputation. As the murmur of conversation deepened, and anticipation filled the air, Xavier braced himself for what was to come ready for the next proverbial shoe to drop.

  From one of the more shadowy corners of the hall a slender well-dressed figure emerged. His very presence commanded immediate attention from all around him. Dark attire, delicately accented with silver embroidery only accented him as someone of considerable authority within these walls, all of this was despite the fact he wore no overt symbols of power or authority. He just was. His eyes fell upon Xavier’s group with a sharp calculating gaze, and he approached with a measured confidant stride.

  Holding out a single hand he spoke softly. “Documentation, Master Vesh.” His request was simple, but his smooth voice brokered no insubordination with its unmistakable edge of authority.

  Xavier withdrew his sheaf of documents, carefully forged to give credence too the fa?ade they were using. Maintaining his expression of composed slight arrogance, befitting his persona, Xavier handed them to the strange official. The man scanned the documents carefully, thoroughly, lingering on each detail deliberately.

  His eyes finally rose to Sihri. “Your gladiator appears quite impressive Vesh,” his comments were neutral, but his focus was pointed.

  “She has more than earned her reputation,” Xavier responded with a smooth confidence. “She was undefeated in twenty-seven bouts in the fighting pits of Zhyrdan. Cost me a hefty sum of gold but she’s more than worth the cost.”

  The official moved, stepping closer to Sihri as shrewd eyes appraised her appearance and form. “Demonstrate bunny.” He instructed, his tone demeaning and quietly challenging.

  Xavier tensed but gave a brief nod to Sihri as she glanced to him, as if seeking permission from her master. At the nod she shifted fluidly into a combat stance, executing a series of precise, powerful movements. Each step, each strike spoke eloquently of her skill and deadly competence, drawing murmurs of approval and cautious admiration from the onlookers nearby.

  As the official opened his mouth for a new command a smooth familiar voice interjected. It dripped with seductive charm though was edged with a thinly veiled threat.

  “Surely, Overseer, such demonstrations are unnecessary tonight,” Lythara purred, as she stepped gracefully into view. Her mere presence seemed to shift the atmosphere around them, drawing the overseer’s immediate attention. “Master Vesh’s reputation and judgment are impeccable, as is becoming well known.”

  The overseer hesitated briefly, clearly weighing the implicit authority behind her words, then inclined his head respectfully. “As you say, Lady Veyne,” he conceded, returning the documents to Xavier. “Enjoy the auction.”

  Lythara smiled faintly, her eyes meeting Xavier’s briefly in silent acknowledgment before she smoothly withdrew into the crowd. Xavier exhaled subtly; he was keenly aware of how narrowly they'd avoided deeper scrutiny. At the same time he was quietly appreciating the delicate balance of the new alliance with the succubus and her place of power within the city.

  As the murmured conversations settled into tense anticipation, a sharp rap of a gavel drew the room’s attention toward a raised dais at the far end of the grand hall. The auctioneer, a lean, hawkish man dressed in lavish silks, stepped forward, his thin lips curling into a practiced, insincere smile.

  “Esteemed guests, we begin tonight’s proceedings with a rare prize, captured from the remote hills bordering where the Blasted Lands meet the Ironspire Peaks,” he announced with cold enthusiasm.

  From a shadowed corridor to the side of the dais, two Redmaw guards dragged forth an Animari captive, wrists bound by heavy iron shackles. A ripple of hushed but excited whispers spread throughout the crowd as the captive, a young Lynari woman, was thrust into the harsh, revealing torchlight. Her tawny fur and long hair were matted with grime from her captivity. When she lifted her head, her fierce golden eyes were dulled but remained defiant.

  Xavier’s jaw tightened imperceptibly as the auctioneer began outlining her lineage, describing her rare traits and skills with chilling detachment. The young woman stood tall, maintaining as much dignity as her circumstances allowed, though her slender nude frame trembled slightly beneath the scrutiny.

  A noblewoman nearby raised her hand languidly, initiating the bidding in a detached, bored tone. The auctioneer’s voice rose eagerly as he plied his trade, the cadence and demeanor stirred competition among the audience, the figures escalating quickly as each bidder sought to possess this rare Lynari woman.

  At his side, Lianna shifted subtly closer, her breath was coming in shallow and strained spurts. He easily sensed her turmoil, the barely contained fury and sharp grief radiating from her tense frame. Xavier carefully and discreetly brushed his fingers against her arm, a quiet gesture of reassurance and solidarity. He understood her rage and pain.

  It was as the auctioneer announced the final bid, one awarded to an aristocrat whose eyes gleamed with undisguised greed and darker desires, Xavier felt a surge of bitter resolve. The Lynari captive was dragged away roughly, disappearing once more into shadow as the audience murmured appreciatively, the bar had been set, and they were already eager for the next display.

  Lianna’s voice, barely audible, trembled with barely controlled anger. “How can we stand by and watch this?”

  Xavier responded just as quietly, his voice was firm despite the weight of emotion dripping from it, “Because tonight, watching is how we learn we are not enough to take on what is here. Tomorrow, with this knowledge we can act to change things.”

  Ella’s gaze flickered toward him. She had heard his words, and her expression reflected understanding and quiet support, reaffirming their shared commitment.

  The auctioneer resumed his grotesque performance, calling forth the next captive as Xavier’s resolve hardened, fully aware of the depth of corruption he faced. Witnessing such casual brutality crystallized his mission, sharpening it into a clear, poignant purpose.

  As the evening crawled on Xavier found the auction hall increasingly stifling. Leaving the trio of women where they observed details of who bought each slave, he stepped away from the main crowd He sought out a quiet alcove near a towering pillar, a place where he could observe without drawing unwanted attention. He had only been there for a few moments when he felt a presence approach. The presence familiar in the subtle heat that accompanied her.

  “You’re handling yourself remarkably well, Xavier,” Lythara’s voice murmured softly from behind him, her lips near his ear, and her tone infused with a casual intimacy that belied their dangerous circumstances.

  He turned slightly, his gaze meeting hers briefly. Her golden eyes were sharp, their faint glow highlighting the seriousness beneath her practiced charm.

  “Thanks to your timely intervention,” Xavier acknowledged quietly, his voice neutral but sincere. “Why did you deign risk yourself like that?”

  She shifted closer, one arm lacing through his in an almost intimate embrace. Her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Because our interests align more closely than you may realize. I see clearly what you wish to accomplish along with what you cannot.”

  Xavier studied her closely, carefully judging and weighing her words. “That is not all.”

  She hesitated a moment, as if she was choosing her words with great care. “There is a place beneath Ironhaven Citadel. It is known as the Vault of Chains. Ivarik uses it to hold secrets vital to Arenvalis, including documents detailing bloodlines, infernal pacts, and other bindings used to enforce the slavery of Animari and others.”

  Xavier thought on her words for a few moments before meeting her eyes once again. “Your contract among them?” he asked quietly.

  Her gaze hardened, betraying just a glimpse of vulnerability beneath her carefully composed facade. “Yes. Mine, and something even more critical. It houses the binding sigil of King Rorik. Control that, and you weaken Ivarik’s grip on the kingdom substantially. Potentially breaking the power of the Shadow Court”

  Xavier felt a renewed surge of determination keys to his mission close at hand now. “What else do I need to know?”

  Lythara glanced subtly around, her presence was enough to ensure their conversation remained private though she had to verify. “The vault is heavily guarded, trapped by infernal machinations and wards. But it is vulnerable, especially now, with so many resources and new individuals committed here. The chaos tonight could offer a fleeting opening.”

  Xavier nodded slowly, understanding fully the risk and opportunity she was offering. “And your price?” He asked warily.

  “Freedom,” she replied simply, her voice firm but quiet. “Find and destroy my contract. Free me from Ivarik’s control, and I will be your ally, not just tonight, but moving forward as well.”

  Their eyes met in a moment of mutual understanding, solidifying the fragile trust between them. Xavier finally inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Then we’ll have to move quickly. Tonight, we plan and as I told Lianna, tomorrow, we act.”

  A faint but genuine smile touched the succubus’ lips briefly before fading back into her practiced composure. “Very well. Be ready, Xavier. The hardest part is yet to come.”

  She slipped away silently, leaving Xavier with newfound clarity and purpose, fully aware of not only the danger but the very magnitude of their next move.

  The hours of the night grew long, and the auction drew towards its conclusion. The once subdued hall was abuzz with excitement and tension, the Animari that were displayed tonight were particularly noteworthy to those who partook of such pleasures. Xavier gave a slight gesture and guided Ella, Lianna, and Sihri away from where they were in the main gathering. Moving towards a shadowed alcove near the exit, safely distant from any wary guard or the lingering attention of curious persons of power.

  Lianna’s eyes glistened with barely suppressed fury, her fists clenched at her sides, her claws digging into the soft flesh of her palms. “Watching this, knowing we could not do anything,” her voice strangled with emotion, “it was unbearable.”

  Xavier placed a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder, his voice steady and measured though he felt the same as her. “We did what we had to tonight. Knowledge is power, and we gained more than they realize. Lythara’s information changes everything. If we strike carefully at the Vault of Chains, we can deal a real blow and maybe destroy their records of the Animari bloodlines as well.”

  Ella nodded quietly, her eyes serious yet supportive.

  Xavier’s gaze turned briefly toward Sihri. The Leporini remained standing rigid and alert, still playing the disciplined gladiator. She caught his glance, and her eyes softened fractionally. “I am ready, Master. Whatever must be done.”

  The man who had bought her, promised her freedom, and was supported by the other two was clearly determined to make a change and she was proud to be a part of it.

  He acknowledged her with a brief nod, his own resolve reinforced by the strength he saw mirrored in all three of their eyes. “Then tomorrow we act. We'll break into the vault, destroy the rune holding Rorik, and free Lythara from her bondage too. Once we have that leverage, we can begin dismantling the mandatory enslavement. But tonight, we prepare.”

  Lianna drew a deep, calming breath, visibly steadying herself. Her voice grew steady and resolved, resonating with quiet strength. “Then let us waste no time. We have work to do.”

  Xavier and those with him took one final glance around the hall, engraving every thinly veiled brutal image into his memory. The depths of Ironhaven’s cruelty had etched itself deeply within them tonight, but that also caused an unshakeable determination to sprout as well. He turned sharply, leading his companions out through the dimly lit corridor, feeling the weight of the upcoming struggle but also a fierce certainty. Their path forward had never been clearer.

  Xavier guided his companions swiftly through the dimly lit corridor, the echo of their footsteps was swallowed by the distant murmur of the dispersing crowd. As they ascended the staircase and emerged into Ironhaven’s night-shrouded streets, the cool air rushed against their faces, it was a stark yet welcome contrast to the stifling cruelty and oppression they'd just witnessed. With what they had witnessed, however, the city felt altered somehow, cast now in sharper relief by their grim purpose. Xavier glanced upward, briefly studying the sliver of Pyrrastra, its moonlight breaking through thick clouds and illuminating the rooftops in muted crimson.

  He turned toward his companions, his voice low and earnest. “We’re stepping into dangerous territory,” Xavier warned quietly, scanning their faces with a steady gaze. “After tonight, we’ll have fewer shadows to hide in.”

  Lianna met his eyes unflinchingly, her voice strong. “We have seen the worst they can do. Now it is time they saw what we can do.”

  Ella stepped closer, her calm presence reassuring. “We know the risks. But this information, what we learned tonight, can change everything. We will handle whatever comes next.”

  Xavier glanced to Sihri, whose posture had relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained sharp with readiness. “I trust each of you with my life,” Xavier stated simply, sincerity backing every word he spoke. “Tomorrow, we strike the Vault of Chains, free those we can, and shatter their illusion of control.”

  “Agreed,” Lianna affirmed resolutely, her voice filled with conviction. “It is time to turn the tables.”

  Xavier drew a deep breath, taking in the night’s silence one last time before nodding firmly. “Then let’s make our preparations. Tomorrow, Ironhaven learns it’s no longer untouchable. We’ve pulled on the threads to reveal the chains, now we start to break them.”

  With quiet resolve, they moved swiftly into the labyrinthine streets, the certainty of their mission guiding them forward. Each step away from the auction strengthened their determination, transforming anger and helplessness from what they had witnessed into unwavering purpose. They left the horrors of the night behind, carrying with them a renewed resolve that would guide their path forward.