The Grand Auction House of Merol stood like a monument to wealth and secrecy.
It was a massive, three-storey building of white marble and dark oak, its domed roof glittering with gold leaf under the afternoon sun. Tall columns flanked the entrance, and two enormous bronze doors carved with scenes of ancient battles stood wide open. Guards in crisp black uniforms lined the steps, their eyes sharp as they checked invitations. Inside, the main hall buzzed with the low murmur of wealthy merchants, nobles, and collectors from across the region. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft golden light over velvet chairs arranged in neat rows facing a raised stage where the auctioneer's podium waited.
Draven stepped through the doors with his VIP card held loosely in his hand. Thorne walked on his right, axe left behind at Brase's residence but a heavy dagger hidden under his cloak. Elowen followed quietly, her staff disguised as a simple walking cane. Sylara brought up the rear, eyes scanning every face and shadow.
The air smelled of expensive perfume, polished wood, and faint incense. Servants moved silently between guests, offering glasses of chilled wine and small trays of delicacies. On the stage, workers were arranging display cases for the evening's items.
Draven's gaze swept the hall slowly. Something felt… off.
It wasn't the opulence. It wasn't the crowd. It was the way certain areas seemed too quiet, too guarded. A side corridor near the back of the hall had two extra guards standing at attention, their posture too rigid. A small door behind the stage was being watched by a man who wasn't wearing the standard uniform. And every few minutes, a servant would disappear through a narrow passage on the left wall and not return for a suspiciously long time.
Draven's instincts — sharpened by years of survival and the power of the treasure inside him — tingled.
"Something's not right here," he murmured to the group as they moved toward the VIP seating area.
Thorne nodded subtly. "I feel it too. Those guards near the back corridor… they're not regular auction security."
Elowen's eyes narrowed as she pretended to admire a painting on the wall. "There's faint residual mana in the air. Old magic. Hidden. It's coming from below us."
Sylara's hand rested near her hidden dagger. "I'll check the perimeter outside. See if there are any unusual deliveries or people watching the building."
Draven gave a small nod. "Stay careful. We're here as guests. Don't draw attention."
They split up naturally.
Draven spent the next hour walking the main hall slowly, acting like a curious noble. He stopped at display tables, examined artefacts that were being prepared for auction, and made light conversation with other VIP guests. All the while, his eyes kept returning to the suspicious side areas.
He approached one of the regular servants carrying a tray of drinks.
"Excuse me," Draven said politely, accepting a glass of wine. "This is my first time at the Merol Grand Auction. The building is impressive. Are there any private viewing rooms for special items?"
The servant smiled professionally. "Yes, my lord. But those are reserved for the highest bidders only. The main auction will have everything displayed openly."
Draven nodded, but he noticed the servant's eyes flick toward the guarded corridor for a split second.
He moved on.
Later, he found a quiet alcove near the left wall and leaned against a pillar, pretending to study a sculpture. From there he could see the narrow passage where servants kept disappearing. He activated a subtle version of Echo Sight — just enough to sense faint magical traces without drawing attention.
There it was: a thin thread of dark energy leading downward.
Underground.
He spent the next forty minutes methodically checking every accessible corner of the building. He walked the outer gardens, noting how the building's foundation seemed deeper than necessary. He observed the loading area at the back where crates were being unloaded from wagons — most were normal auction goods, but two large crates were carried inside with unusual care and disappeared through a side door.
Thorne joined him briefly near the back garden.
"Found anything?" Thorne asked quietly.
"Too many locked doors for a simple auction house," Draven replied. "And the mana flow is wrong. It's being drawn downward."
Elowen appeared a few minutes later, pretending to admire the flowers.
"There are old runes carved into the foundation stones," she whispered. "Very old. They're meant to hide something beneath the building. I couldn't read them fully without drawing attention, but they're definitely concealment wards."
Sylara returned from her perimeter check.
"Two wagons left the back entrance twenty minutes ago," she reported. "Heavily guarded. They went toward the forest, not the city."
Draven's jaw tightened. The pieces were starting to connect — the stolen box, the dead bandits, the unusual security, the hidden mana flow.
He continued his investigation for the rest of the afternoon.
He bribed a low-level servant with a gold coin for "harmless information about the auction schedule." The servant nervously mentioned that some "special consignments" were being kept in the lower storage levels and that only the head auctioneer and a few trusted guards had access.
Draven walked the main hall again, noting every exit and entrance. He counted the guards. He memorized their patrol patterns. He even managed to slip into a staff-only corridor for a few moments, discovering a locked iron grate in the floor that looked suspiciously like an access point.
Every clue pointed downward.
As the sun began to set and the auction house started preparing for the evening event, Draven led his group to a quiet corner near the back garden wall.
"We're not here for the auction itself," he said quietly. "That box is the key. The one the bandits stole from Brase. The one whose owners ended up dead in the forest. Whatever is inside it… someone doesn't want it seen."
Thorne cracked his knuckles. "So we find a way downstairs."
Elowen nodded. "The concealment wards are strongest near the left corridor. That's our entry point."
Sylara's eyes gleamed. "I can pick the lock on that grate if we can get close enough."
Draven looked at the building one last time as lanterns were lit along the walls. The auction house looked beautiful and innocent from the outside — a place of wealth and prestige.
But something was hidden beneath it.
He made his decision.
"Tonight, after the auction starts and attention is on the stage, we move. We find what's really going on here."
The group nodded.
As the first guests began filing into the main hall for the evening auction, Draven and his companions slipped toward the left corridor.
They moved silently, keeping to the shadows.
Draven reached the iron grate first. It was locked with a heavy mechanism, but Sylara was already kneeling beside it, tools in hand.
A few tense minutes later, the lock clicked open.
They lifted the grate carefully.
A narrow stone staircase led downward into darkness.
Draven went first, Soulreaver drawn but held low. The others followed.
The stairs descended deeper than expected — far below the auction house foundation. The air grew cooler and damper. Faint torchlight flickered from below.
At the bottom, they emerged into a wide underground chamber.
The walls were rough stone, reinforced with old beams. Crates and boxes were stacked neatly along one side. In the centre of the room was a large wooden platform, and on it sat a single, heavily guarded iron box — the same size Brase had described.
But that wasn't what made Draven stop.
At the far end of the chamber, hidden behind a stack of crates, was a dark opening in the wall.
An underground tunnel.
It stretched away into blackness, wide enough for two men to walk side by side, its entrance framed by ancient stone carvings that looked far older than the auction house above.
Draven stared at the tunnel.
To be continued…