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Join the ServerIn the evening, Lucia woke up in the room at the post station.
Her first glance went to Betty Lane and Shally, still sitting at the table.
She carefully scanned every inch of their bodies, relieved to find that both Betty Lane and Shally were alive and well, with no missing limbs.
The meal on the table, though not cleared away, had been abandoned. Only a few empty bottles remained.
It seemed the two had been drinking.
Drinking was fine. It was better than crossing blades.
‘Well, despite the lingering tension, this is at least a peaceful, friendly start,’ Lucia thought.
Betty Lane set her glass heavily on the table, shot Shally a glare before leaving the table, and came to the bedside, returning the refilled ‘medicine wine’ to Lucia.
“Your Grace, your wine.”
Lucia took it and tucked it at her waist. She stretched.
She looked out the window at the setting sun and suddenly remembered what she had missed today. She sighed and murmured three words:
“The auction.”
Lucia had really been looking forward to the auction—it was a chance for the protagonist to find bargains. But too much had happened today. It was already dusk. Surely the auction was already over.
Betty Lane said, “The entry time for the auction has passed, but rest assured, Your Grace, we can still make it.”
Lucia perked up. “Let’s go! Right now!”
Shally also came to the bedside and reminded Lucia, “To be safe, Your Grace should no longer travel with your true appearance.”
“Even if nothing happens now, if someone with ill intent remembers you, it could become a future problem.”
“Hmm.” Betty Lane surprisingly agreed with Shally.
Though they had serious disagreements, when it came to protecting Lucia, they were undoubtedly united.
Lucia nodded. She cherished this hard-won freedom.
She took the flask from her waist and swished it, hearing the liquid inside. “Is the water-to-wine ratio three to one?”
“Yes.”
“As you instructed, Betty will keep it in mind,” Betty Lane replied.
“Thank you. Lend me the light armor.”
“Yes.” Betty Lane went to fetch the light armor and a set of large-sized inner garments, placing them by the bed. At Lucia’s command, she and Shally withdrew from the room.
Before leaving, Betty Lane didn’t forget to draw the curtains. Once the two had left and the door was closed, Lucia removed her dress and took a small sip of the medicinal wine.
After a moment, the closed door opened, and the light-armored girl who had haunted Shally’s dreams walked out.
“Your Grace,” Shally called out involuntarily.
“Hmm?” The girl version of Lucia tilted her head, looking at the blushing Shally.
“You are beautiful,” Shally whispered.
“What a fuss.” Betty Lane scoffed at Shally.
The three mounted the carriage, chasing the setting sun, and arrived at the auction venue bathed in the afterglow of sunset.
In this hierarchical world, people of status always enjoyed privileges.
As a viscountess, Betty Lane received treatment befitting her rank even when entering late. They were led to a box reserved for nobles, overlooking the entire auction hall.
Below were the commoners who were considered respectable. They were either merchants or engaged in scarce technical professions.
For example, doctors, pharmacists, jewelers, blacksmiths. At the very least, a scribe with a set of clothes without patches or holes—that was the minimum standard to enter the venue.
This standard wasn’t too hard for the residents of Potts Town, as the town itself was the hub for over twenty surrounding villages.
Those who owned property in the town could always scrape together such attire if they wished.
But the town also housed a group of disreputable people. They had no property, renting, lodging, or living on the streets.
They were the casual laborers, long-term laborers, and slaves of the respectable.
Among them, the most famous of the casual laborers were adventurers and mercenaries.
Adventurers and mercenaries often attended auctions, rarely bidding, but more often appearing as providers of auction items.
At this auction, there were still items provided by mercenaries.
Speaking of which, that group of mercenaries had dined with Lucia just yesterday—they were familiar faces.
The item they provided this time was a female s*ave, collared, gagged, with a pair of drooping furry animal ears.
Long-term laborers also attended auctions. Poor as they were, like slaves, they only appeared as auction items.
At that moment, on the auction stage, the auctioneer with a curled mustache was presenting the contracts of three long-term laborers.
“These are the contract deeds for three able-bodied laborers. Provided they are fed and watered, they will work unconditionally for the contract holder for ten years, eight months, and three days.”
“The contracts bear the seal of the lord, verified as authentic.”
After speaking, the auctioneer went to the three laborers and patted their abdominal muscles with the back of his hand.
“Look at this robust muscle, this stature—almost two of me tall! Perhaps they have the blood of giants flowing in their veins.”
“These three are definitely worth eight—no, worth ten grown men!”
“Starting bid: one gold. Increments: one silver. Ladies and gentlemen, the bidding begins!”
The unexpectedly low starting price made Lucia in the box exclaim, “That’s cheap.”
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