Chapter 115: The Crooked Tankard Bar

The heavy wooden door of the Crooked Tankard creaked open, revealing a scene of raucous revelry.

The air inside was thick with the mingled scents of stale ale, cheap perfume, and unwashed bodies.

The room was weakly lit by flickering oil lamps, casting long, dancing shadows across the rough-hewn tables and benches. The noise was deafening, a cacophony of drunken laughter, boisterous conversations, and the clinking of glasses.

Alaric, followed closely by Rowena, Helena, and Petra, stepped inside. The immediate impression was one of chaos and disorder. Rough-looking men, some with scarred faces and hardened eyes, lounged at tables, gambling, drinking, and arguing.

Scantily clad women moved among them, offering drinks, companionship, and other, more illicit services. The atmosphere was thick with tension, a sense of underlying violence that made the hairs on the back of Alaric’s neck stand on end.

’This place is a breeding ground for trouble,’ he thought, his senses on high alert. ’Perfect for a clandestine meeting of the Phantom Assembly.’

He remained calm, however, maintaining his composure as he calmly walked towards a set of stairs leading to the first floor. Rowena, Helena, and Petra followed close behind, their expressions carefully neutral, their bodies moving with a practiced grace that belied the revealing nature of their attire.

As they moved through the crowded room, they drew a significant amount of attention, especially the three beauties.

Alaric, wearing his enchanted mask, was largely ignored. Most of the patrons simply glanced at him, dismissing him as just another wealthy patron with a penchant for beautiful company.

But the three women were a different story. Their revealing outfits, barely concealing their ample curves, drew the gazes of every man in the room.

Eyes followed their every movement, lingering on their exposed skin, their swaying hips, and the gentle bounce of their breasts. Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd, crude remarks and suggestive comments filling the air.

“Look at those beauties,” one man muttered to his companion, his eyes glued to Rowena’s swaying hips. “I wouldn’t mind spending a night with one of them.”

“That masked fellow is a lucky man,” another added, his gaze lingering on Helena’s exposed cleavage. “I wonder how much he paid for them.”

Rowena, Helena, and Petra, as they had practiced, ignored the leering gazes and crude remarks, keeping their eyes fixed on Alaric, their expressions conveying an air of complete devotion. They moved around him, touching his arm, his shoulder, their bodies subtly brushing against his, reinforcing the image of them being his possessions.

Before any of the more emboldened patrons could approach them, Alaric subtly released a pulse of magical energy, a silent warning that radiated outwards, encompassing the immediate vicinity.

It wasn’t a hostile display, but rather a subtle demonstration of power, a clear message that he was not someone to be trifled with.

The effect was immediate.

The rowdy conversations quieted, the leering gazes turned away, and the men who had been about to approach the three women suddenly found other things to occupy their attention.

They felt it, this mysterious yet deadly energy, and they knew instinctively that it was best not to antagonize the masked man and his beautiful companions.

’He’s powerful,’ one man thought, his earlier bravado replaced by a sudden chill. ’Best not to mess with him.’

Just as Alaric was about to ascend the stairs, a man approached them, his movements smooth and practiced.

He was dressed in fine clothes, a stark contrast to the rough attire of the pub’s patrons.

He had a neatly trimmed beard and a smooth, oily smile. Alaric recognized him as the pub’s manager, a man known for his discretion and his connections to the city’s underworld.

“Welcome, sir,” the manager greeted, his voice smooth and polite. “I couldn’t help but notice your… impressive entourage. Are you here to enjoy the… amenities of our establishment? Perhaps a quiet room where you and your companions can enjoy some privacy?”

Alaric smirked beneath his mask. This was exactly what he had been hoping for. The subtle display of magic had served its purpose, attracting the attention of the pub’s management.

“We’re not here for the usual amenities,” Alaric replied, his voice calm and cold, maintaining the persona of a detached and powerful individual. “I heard there were… games being played here tonight. Starting at midnight.”

The manager’s smile faltered slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Games?” he repeated, his voice carefully neutral. “I’m not aware of any such games, especially not starting at midnight.”

Alaric smiled beneath his mask, his eyes fixed on the manager’s face. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low and suggestive. He leaned closer, whispering in the manager’s ear. “Not even… bidding for goods and treasures?”

The manager’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting to the three beautiful women standing beside Alaric. He then looked back at Alaric, a flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes.

Alaric straightened up, his voice returning to its normal volume. “I’m a collector,” he explained, his tone casual.

“From a faraway land. I’ve heard whispers of… unique treasures being offered here. I wouldn’t want to be disappointed.”

The manager’s mind raced. He knew that allowing someone without an invitation into the auction was a serious breach of protocol.

But turning away a wealthy collector, especially one who clearly had connections to the underworld, could be even more dangerous. He weighed his options, calculating the risks and rewards.

Finally, he made his decision. He nodded curtly, his expression now serious and professional. “Very well, sir,” he said. “Please, follow me. I’ll escort you to the… appropriate area.”

He turned and headed towards another set of stairs, these leading to the second floor. Alaric followed, with Rowena, Helena, and Petra close behind.

As they ascended the stairs, the three women exchanged impressed glances. The situation was unfolding exactly as Alaric had predicted. His subtle display of power, his confident demeanor, and his quick thinking had convinced the manager to grant them access to the auction.

’He’s truly remarkable,’ Rowena thought, her violet eyes fixed on Alaric’s back. ’He has a way of commanding attention, of getting what he wants.’

’He’s so charismatic,’ Helena thought, her gaze lingering on Alaric’s broad shoulders. ’It’s no wonder he’s able to influence people so easily.’

’He’s so witty,’ Petra thought, a faint smile touching her lips. ’He handled that situation perfectly.’

As if to express their admiration, the three women subtly pressed closer to Alaric, their bodies brushing against his, their hands lightly touching his arm, his back, his waist.

It was a subtle display of affection, a silent acknowledgment of his leadership and their devotion to him. They were now acting entirely as they had practiced. The role of being his playthings had become second nature to them.

Alaric felt their touch, a subtle warmth spreading through him.

~~

The manager led them up a narrow, dimly lit staircase to the second floor. The atmosphere here was noticeably different from the raucous pub below. The noise was muffled, replaced by a low hum of hushed conversations. The air was cleaner, the scent of stale ale replaced by the faint aroma of expensive perfume and polished wood.

The manager stopped before a heavy oak door, pushing it open to reveal a small, sparsely furnished chamber.

But what immediately caught Alaric’s attention, and that of his companions, was the intricate magical formation etched into the floor.

It was a complex array of runes and symbols, glowing with a faint, ethereal light.

“Please, step inside the circle,” the manager instructed, his voice calm and professional.

Alaric exchanged glances with Rowena, Helena, and Petra. They all felt a strange tingling sensation, a subtle vibration in the air around the magical formation.

’This feels like… a teleportation circle,’ Alaric thought, his mind racing. ’But that’s absurd. To set up a teleportation circle in a place like this… it’s too risky, too conspicuous.’

Despite their apprehension, they followed the manager’s instructions, stepping carefully into the circle. The manager himself then entered the circle, his expression focused as he began to mutter a series of arcane chants.

The air around them crackled with energy, the runes on the floor glowing brighter. Alaric focused intently, committing the manager’s chants to memory.

’This could be useful,’ he thought. ’Knowing how to activate this circle could be a valuable asset.’

Suddenly, the world around them dissolved into a swirling vortex of light and color. A strange sensation of weightlessness washed over them, followed by a brief disorientation. And then, just as suddenly, they were somewhere else.

They found themselves in a vast, opulent hall, a stark contrast to the dingy pub they had just left. The room was brightly lit by numerous chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors and the richly decorated walls.

The air was clean and fresh, the scent of expensive perfume and polished wood much stronger here.

The hall was enormous, easily one of the largest auction houses Alaric had ever seen, even considering his memories from his previous life.

’This is… incredible,’ he thought, his eyes wide with amazement. ’Even back on Earth, I’ve never seen an auction house this grand.’

The hall was divided into two main sections. The first was a large open area, filled with rows of plush chairs arranged in a semi-circular pattern around a raised stage. Many people had already taken their seats, their conversations creating a low hum of anticipation.

The second section consisted of a series of balconies overlooking the open area. These balconies were attached to luxurious private rooms, clearly reserved for VIPs.

The manager, who had also been transported with them, turned to Alaric, a professional smile on his face.

“Welcome, sir,” he said. “Would you prefer to take a seat in the open area, or would you prefer one of our private rooms?” He paused, adding with a subtle hint, “Of course, the private rooms come with a small additional fee.”

Alaric nodded, understanding the implication. He reached into his magical bag, retrieving a small pouch filled with gleaming gold coins. He held it out to the manager. “Would this be sufficient?” he asked, his voice calm and nonchalant.

The manager’s eyes widened slightly as he took the pouch, his fingers quickly assessing its weight. He opened it slightly, revealing the glittering contents. A pleased look spread across his face. He quickly closed the pouch, handing it back to Alaric with a respectful bow.

“Certainly, sir,” he said, his voice now noticeably warmer. “Please, follow me. I’ll escort you to one of our finest private rooms.”

He led them towards one of the balconies, stopping before a door marked with the number “10.”

He opened the door, revealing a lavishly furnished room with plush seating, a small table, and a clear view of the stage below. The room was designed for privacy, the windows tinted so that it was impossible to see inside from the outside. Those within the VIP rooms could bid without any fear of being recognized.

“This is perfect,” Alaric said, stepping into the room.

“I’m glad you approve, sir,” the manager replied, bowing slightly. “If you require anything, please don’t hesitate to inform one of our attendants.”

With another polite bow, the manager departed, leaving Alaric and his companions alone in the private room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, a collective sigh of relief swept through the room. Rowena, Helena, and Petra visibly relaxed, the tension draining from their bodies. They no longer had to maintain their carefully crafted personas as Alaric’s playthings.

“That was… intense,” Rowena said, letting out a deep breath.

“I know,” Helena agreed, her hand going to her chest. “I was worried someone would see through our act.”

“Alaric, you handled that perfectly,” Petra said, her dark eyes fixed on him. “The way you convinced the manager… it was brilliant.”

Alaric simply smiled, removing his enchanted mask and placing it on the table. “It was all part of the plan,” he said calmly. “We needed to gain access, and that was the most efficient way to do it.”

’It’s good that everything is going according to plan,’ Alaric thought to himself. ’Now, all that’s left is to find out what the Phantom Assembly is auctioning off and who their clients are.’ He gazed out at the hall below, a sense of anticipation building within him.

~~

The opulent VIP room offered a panoramic view of the grand hall below. Alaric, Rowena, Helena, and Petra settled into the plush seating, the soft cushions a welcome respite after the tense journey and the initial encounter with the pub’s manager.

The room was designed for comfort and discretion, the tinted windows ensuring their privacy while allowing them to observe the activity below.

A hushed silence hung in the air for a moment as they all took a breath, the tension of maintaining their cover finally dissipating.

“Well, that went smoother than I expected,” Rowena said, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“Indeed,” Helena agreed, glancing out at the growing crowd below. “Your… performance was quite convincing, Alaric.”

Petra simply nodded, a subtle smile playing on her lips. “The manager seemed quite eager to please you,” she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Alaric chuckled softly. “It’s all about projecting the right image,” he replied, leaning back in his seat. “Wealth, power, and a touch of mystery. It’s a potent combination.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the hall below. The crowd was steadily growing, the low hum of conversations increasing in volume. People from all walks of life were present, dressed in a variety of attire, from finely tailored suits to roughspun tunics. Alaric noticed a few familiar faces, members of the kingdom’s nobility and merchant class, but most of the attendees were unfamiliar, their faces etched with a mixture of wealth, power, and a hint of something darker.

“It seems our audience is gathering,” Alaric observed, his voice low. “We should remain vigilant. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.”

The three women nodded, their expressions turning serious. They understood the gravity of their situation. They were in the heart of the enemy’s territory, surrounded by potentially dangerous individuals.

They settled into a comfortable silence, their eyes scanning the hall below, observing the attendees, trying to discern any signs of the Phantom Assembly’s presence.

Time seemed to stretch on, the minutes ticking by slowly as they waited for the auction to begin. The hall continued to fill, the noise level steadily increasing. Attendants moved through the crowd, offering drinks and refreshments, their movements smooth and practiced.

“This is taking longer than I anticipated,” Alaric murmured, glancing at a magically enchanted clock on the wall. It was almost an hour past midnight, the time the manager had implied the auction would begin.

“Perhaps they’re waiting for a specific individual to arrive,” Rowena suggested, her eyes scanning the entrance to the hall.

“That’s possible,” Alaric agreed. “Or perhaps they’re simply enjoying the anticipation, building the tension before the main event.”

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “In the meantime,” he continued, turning to the three women, “we should continue to refine our cover. Remember, we’re not just here to observe. We’re here to blend in, to appear as genuine participants.”

He then launched into a series of impromptu role-playing exercises, testing their reactions to various scenarios, coaching them on how to respond to different types of questions and interactions.

The waiting continued, the tension in the room building steadily. The attendees below continued to mingle, their conversations becoming more animated as the time for the auction drew closer.

“I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this,” Rowena murmured, her violet eyes scanning the crowd. “There’s something… unsettling about this gathering.”

“I agree,” Helena added, her expression serious. “There’s a palpable sense of… danger in the air.”

Petra simply nodded, her dark eyes fixed on the entrance to the hall. She was silent, but her posture was tense, her senses on high alert.

Alaric felt a similar unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something that would disrupt their carefully laid plans.

Just as the tension reached its peak, a hush fell over the hall. The conversations died down, the music faded, and all eyes turned towards the stage. A figure had emerged from the shadows, stepping into the spotlight.

He was a tall, imposing man, dressed in a dark, richly embroidered robe. His face was hidden by a dark hood, concealing his features from view. He carried himself with an air of authority, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

“Welcome, esteemed guests,” the hooded figure announced, his voice deep and resonant, amplified by some unseen magic. “We are gathered here tonight for a unique opportunity, a chance to acquire items of exceptional rarity and power.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “Tonight’s auction will feature a selection of artifacts, magical items, and… other treasures, carefully curated for your discerning tastes.”

He gestured towards a large, ornate chest that had been placed on the stage. “Let the bidding begin.”

With those words, the auction officially commenced. The tension in the hall was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. Alaric and his companions exchanged glances, their expressions serious, their senses on high alert.