Radeon had made the auction house easy to enter on purpose.
A gold coin in the palm. Slide it into the slot on either side of the door. Take a mask. Walk in.
The reason was simple. No one wanted to wait. Neither did he.
Two hours passed. The doors sealed shut.
Latecomers came running anyway, breath ragged, sleeves flapping, only to stop short when they saw it.
The mask rack had vanished. The coin slots were gone too, not blocked or hidden, simply erased, as if the building had never accepted payment at all.
Ghost attendants stood nearby and only watched, pale faces blank, hands folded.
Voices rose, faces warped into indignation, and anger spread through the still sizable crowd.
"Hey, didn't you like customers. Why are you closing the entrance so early?"
"We were just discussing our strategy, please give us face."
"I am friends with City Lord Calderon, please let me pass."
Backgrounds were thrown like titles. Pleads followed. Then bribes. Then uglier offers.
