The carriage door was gently opened from the outside.
The first to step down was a young woman.
She appeared to be around nineteen years old, roughly the same age as Seila, yet her bearing was completely different from that of an ordinary noble lady. Standing at nearly one hundred and eighty centimeters, her slender figure naturally attracted attention the moment she appeared. Her white-purplish skin, a trait shared by most draconians, seemed to gently reflect the afternoon sunlight, while a pair of small white horns protruded gracefully from her forehead.
Her long brown hair was gathered into a ponytail by a delicate floral ornament, allowing her beautiful features to be seen clearly. Long eyelashes framed a pair of gentle eyes, while the faint dimples that occasionally appeared on her cheeks gave her an unexpectedly approachable appearance despite her noble status.
She wore a purple skirt that reached just above her knees, with short black shorts hidden beneath it for convenience of movement. Combined with the simple black sandals she wore, her attire looked elegant without being overly extravagant.
After hearing the tall attendant's welcome, the young woman revealed a small smile and slightly inclined her head.
"Your greeting is well received, Gustav."
The tall man immediately bowed once more.
"It is this humble one's honor, Lady Frisca."
Only after Frisca stepped aside did another figure emerge from the carriage.
Unlike the young lady before him, the old man carried an invisible pressure that had clearly been tempered by many years of leadership.
He wore a neatly tailored black coat over a matching black vest, paired with a white inner long-sleeved shirt and black trousers. Polished leather shoes softly touched the stone pavement as he stepped down, while two large white horns upon his forehead immediately distinguished him from the others.
His short white hair and neatly maintained beard gave him the appearance of a respectable elder, yet his broad shoulders and sturdy physique made it difficult to associate him with someone already advanced in age. Standing nearly one hundred and ninety centimeters tall, the former patriarch still carried himself with a perfectly upright posture.
The moment Gustav saw him, the smile on his face became even brighter.
He respectfully lowered his head once more.
"Likewise, the Auctionarium is delighted to once again be graced by the noble presence of none other than the former Patriarch of the Hall Family, Lord Leon Hall."
The old man simply looked at him before letting out a quiet chuckle.
"Your words are still as flowery as ever."
Rather than feeling embarrassed, Gustav actually laughed together with him.
"I shall take that as a compliment, my lord."
Leon merely shook his head while the corners of his mouth rose slightly.
The exchange caused the atmosphere to become considerably lighter.
Soon afterward, Gustav personally took the lead and escorted the two distinguished guests toward the entrance of the Auctionarium.
Behind them followed the Hall Family's servants and guards, while attendants standing on both sides of the entrance respectfully lowered their heads as the group passed by.
As they entered the building, many familiar faces immediately noticed their arrival.
Several influential merchants paused their conversations to offer greetings. Noble guests from neighboring territories respectfully bowed their heads, while a few old acquaintances even stepped forward to exchange a few casual words.
Leon naturally returned every greeting with a warm smile.
He spoke comfortably with the people around him, occasionally laughing as he exchanged simple pleasantries. Even after retiring from his position as patriarch, his ability to interact with others had clearly not diminished.
Compared to him, however, Frisca appeared considerably less interested.
She politely returned the greetings with a small smile whenever necessary, but rarely stopped walking for long conversations. Instead, she quietly followed behind her grandfather with both hands clasped behind her back, listening to the discussions around her while silently observing the lively atmosphere of the Auctionarium.
Truthfully, she found these kinds of social gatherings somewhat boring.
Her eyes unconsciously drifted toward the bustling plaza outside, where countless people continued moving between the merchant stalls under the afternoon sun.
A small thought quietly surfaced within her mind.
It would have been much more lively if the rumor had been true...
...and Aton had actually come to join the festivities of the Grand Bazaar.
...
Meanwhile, after quietly leaving the scene, Relict reached for the dark green cloth that had been wrapped around his head and removed it. The makeshift disguise that had allowed him to pass as a sickly beggar was no longer necessary. He gently unfolded the cloth and wore it once again over his shoulders, restoring it to its original purpose as part of Aton's outer garment.
The remaining assassins were unlikely to be anywhere near the Grand Bazaar by now. Even if news of their companion's sudden death eventually reached them, it would still take some time before they could properly react. For the moment, there was no longer any reason for him to continue acting as a beggar.
As he calmly walked toward the plaza together with the endless stream of pedestrians, Relict quietly organized the next steps of his plan.
'I need to use the Hall Family as a shield for now.'
The conclusion itself was not particularly complicated. The current Aton Lyn should not possess the strength, composure, or experience necessary to survive an assassination attempt, much less silently eliminate one of the attackers afterward. Even if his actions had been perfectly executed, they still left behind traces that could eventually be discovered.
A man had suddenly died in the middle of a crowded street.
Naturally, the incident would spread throughout the city before long.
The three great families controlled the largest networks of merchants, guards, and informants within Abarrus. It was only a matter of time before news of the incident reached their ears. Once they also learned that he had been the target of an assassination attempt, the more perceptive among them would inevitably begin connecting the two events together.
Who was the dead man?
Why did he suddenly collapse?
Who had interacted with him shortly before his death?
Relict silently followed the chain of reasoning to its natural conclusion.
Many people had seen the sickly beggar approach the man before he collapsed. Furthermore, earlier that day, he had deliberately wandered through several streets and interacted with countless beggars while spreading the rumor of Aton's appearance at the Grand Bazaar.
People with enough manpower and sufficiently keen insight could eventually trace those actions back to a single individual.
Of course, even Relict understood that such a line of thinking bordered on excessive caution. Most people would likely conclude that the dead man had simply suffered an unfortunate accident, while the sickly beggar was merely an unlucky witness who happened to be nearby.
However, caution had long since become a habit for him.
The people living within this era were certainly not lacking in intelligence, but compared to the higher echelons that existed during the Heaven's Alignment Era, their methods were still considerably simpler. The individuals who had once stood at the peak of that civilization possessed minds far more terrifying than any ordinary political schemer. A single overlooked detail had often been enough to determine whether someone lived or died.
Compared to those enemies, the situation unfolding inside Abarrus was almost straightforward.
'Fortunately...'
Relict's hand lightly touched the inner pocket of his coat.
'I brought Frisca's letters with me.'
Once she saw the letters personally written by her own hand, she would immediately understand that he had truly come because of her invitation. The rumors spreading throughout the city would naturally become more believable, and his sudden appearance at the Grand Bazaar would no longer seem suspicious.
Thinking about it, even Relict found the situation somewhat amusing.
Originally, he had brought those letters with him for an entirely different reason. Their sturdy paper and sharp edges would have served reasonably well as makeshift throwing blades should close combat become unavoidable.
Who would have thought that they would instead become the perfect proof of his legitimacy?
Relict lightly shook his head.
Even he had to admit that his unintended actions had become surprisingly useful.
Several more minutes passed before the streets finally opened up before him.
The Grand Bazaar's plaza had already become visible in the distance.
Countless stalls filled the Outer Circle while merchants loudly advertised their products to the passing crowd. The sounds of bargaining, laughter, and conversation blended together into a single bustling atmosphere, while lines of city guards carefully maintained order around the various entrances leading into the plaza.
By then, Relict had already returned to Aton's usual demeanor.
His steps became slower.
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
The calm and calculating gaze from earlier gradually faded, replaced by the somewhat tired appearance that the young master of the Lyn Family normally displayed.
Wearing his original outfit once more, Relict quietly followed the crowd and entered the Grand Bazaar without attracting the slightest bit of suspicion.
...
Inside the Auctionarium, a spacious hallway stretched from the main entrance all the way toward the heart of the building. Crystal lamps hanging from the high ceiling illuminated the polished stone floor below, while expensive paintings and carefully crafted decorations adorned the walls on both sides. Distinguished guests from various places quietly walked through the corridor, accompanied by servants and attendants who guided them toward their respective destinations.
At the very end of the hallway stood a pair of enormous double doors.
Beyond those doors was where the auction itself would later take place.
Most of the guests naturally headed in that direction, entering the hall one after another. However, not everyone continued straight ahead. Those who had reserved the private rooms on the third floor instead walked toward the left and right sides of the hallway, where broad staircases connected the lower floors to the upper level of the building.
Although the Auctionarium appeared somewhat similar to a circular colosseum from the outside, its interior resembled a grand theater.
At the far end stood the auction stage where valuable treasures would later be presented before the audience. Surrounding it were countless rows of seats arranged across both the first and second floors, allowing ordinary guests and merchants to clearly observe the proceedings below.
Above them all, however, was the third floor.
Rather than ordinary seats, small private rooms occupied the entire upper level, each overlooking the auction stage through large windows. These rooms were reserved for the city's most distinguished guests who preferred to keep their identities hidden from the public while participating in the auction.
At this moment, inside one of those private rooms, the representatives of the Hall Family had already settled into their seats.
Leon Hall sat comfortably upon a large couch positioned near the center of the room. In his right hand was a glass containing a faint amber-colored liquor, while a round table before him held a finely crafted bottle that had already been opened. Directly in front of the couch stood a large glass window stretching almost from one side of the room to the other.
From inside, the entire auction hall could be seen clearly.
The countless seats below.
The servants making their final preparations.
The distinguished guests gradually finding their places.
However, from the outside, the window looked no different from an ordinary dark wall.
That was the very purpose of the private rooms.
Those inside could observe everyone, while no one could observe them.
Leon quietly sipped his drink while watching the scene below unfold.
The auction had not yet begun, so the atmosphere remained relatively relaxed. Small conversations echoed throughout the hall as merchants greeted old acquaintances and noble guests exchanged pleasantries with one another.
Compared to her grandfather, however, Frisca appeared considerably less interested in the lively atmosphere below.
She quietly sat upon a comfortable chair positioned beside the couch, lightly tapping the armrest with her fingers while absentmindedly looking toward the auction hall.
Truthfully, she was not watching the guests at all.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
More specifically, they remained fixed upon the investigation they had requested earlier regarding Aton Lyn's whereabouts.
The rumors spreading throughout the city had been strange from the very beginning. Although neither she nor her grandfather believed that Aton would simply appear at the Grand Bazaar without notice, a small part of her still hoped the rumors would somehow prove true.
Several quiet minutes passed.
Then, a gentle knock echoed from the room's entrance.
Frisca immediately shifted her attention toward the door.
She had been waiting for this.
"Come in."
The door slowly opened.
A manservant entered the room before respectfully lowering his head toward both Leon and Frisca.
"Master. Young Mistress."
"There is an urgent matter that our people stationed at the entrance of the Auctionarium wished to report."
While delivering his message, the servant unconsciously directed his gaze toward Frisca.
She immediately understood.
The report was likely for her.
The boredom on her face disappeared almost instantly.
"What is it?"
She straightened her posture slightly.
"Tell me everything."
The servant lowered his head once more.
"Yes."
"There is currently a young man waiting outside who claims to be Sir Aton of the Lyn Family."
Frisca's eyes widened slightly.
However, the servant quickly continued.
"We could not verify his identity. He arrived without an entourage and... he came here barefoot."
Even Leon, who had been quietly drinking beside her, lowered his glass and turned his attention toward the servant.
The latter continued speaking.
"However, the young man handed these letters to us."
"He said that if the Young Mistress were to see them personally, she would immediately know whether his words were true or false."
The moment she heard those words, Frisca wasted no time.
She immediately extended her hand toward the servant.
"Give them to me."
The servant quickly stepped forward and carefully placed the letters into her waiting hand.
...