I settled back, waiting for the questions to come, but they never did. The king made an amused expression and pulled the cork off a bottle before slowly pouring it into a crystal cup formed from his skill.

"Shouldn't you be asking questions?" I asked, tamping down the irritation that had started to flutter.

"I could, but I figured it rude. Giving you the right to ask first seems fair, given the circumstances."

I clicked my fangs.

Or it helps set the tone. Depending on how I start this could allow him to control the intensity of the questions out the gate.

Bah! Too much overthinking. If he wanted to play the game and prove his sincerity, I might as well verify it. Besides, screw subtly.

"Alright. What's your cock size?" I asked with a neutral tone.

Allaron raised an eyebrow and smacked his lips. "Eight and a half inches. Or, if you need it visually, from my wrist to the tip of my middle finger. Not as monstrous as I've seen from some, but I've received no complaints. Oh, did you want more in-depth information? Girth perhaps?"

I nearly spluttered. The bastard exaggerated adjusting his grip on the cup in a way that elongated his digits. Of course he had the hands of a buff pianist. The mask hid the embarrassment, and I controlled my voice before speaking.

"I didn't expect you to answer that one," I admitted.

"I agreed to give treasure, but that doesn't mean I'd make it easy," Allaron chuckled. "Now that your surprise has been usurped, it's my turn."

"Fine. I'll take the loss. What's your first question?"

"How old are you? Both mental age and now."

I narrowed my eyes. It wasn't what I was expecting considering my first question, but it was still clever. By telling him my age now, it'd help him confirm if the etherstorm is truly when I arrived.

"Old world? Twenty-three. Or around that. My birthday was the first of the month of November. I don't know what time I was actually born, so I could either be twenty-three or twenty-four technically," I answered. I pulled up my status sheet and stared at the question marks below my name. "As for now, I don't know."

Allaron frowned. "What does your status say?"

"A bunch of question marks. The jury's out on that one."

"Prove it."

"That wasn't part of the deal," I retorted.

"Show me and I'll give you something now as compensation."

Persistent ey?

I pulled it up, letting it settle in my mind before extending the narrowed prompt toward the king. I felt him accept and his eyes quickly glanced through the air.

Status:

Age: ?? (Undetermined)

Allaron sat back and sighed. Although, closer inspection revealed a hint of a smile, as if he was satisfied with what he saw.

"I'll answer what you're thinking about. For free," Allaron started. "Even the scant knowledge we have shows that this is irregular. Though it's been under a year since your rebirth, it's possible, due to certain limitations, the information is being kept back for now."

"You mean the memory seal?"

"Oh? You do know about it?"

I scoffed. "Maybe. So what do I win for showing you my status?"

Allaron summoned a crystal coin, one similar to the one given to Myol during the arena fiasco, except for the color. It was made of a deep sapphire blue engraved with a crown in the middle of the chip.

"When you want something from the auction, hand them this. It's your turn to ask."

I pocketed the coin and considered what to ask next. I wasn't in dire need of specific information, but it didn't hurt to learn some things. Who knew when the info could be useful?

"You're the king. That means you have a Legacy, but that doesn't make much sense. From what history I know, your father had the Solar Scepter. Crystal-aspected skills were not a part of that. So what's your Legacy?"

"Technically, a Legacy is a kingdom's secret," Allaron mused. His smile dipped, and he conjured another coin—one with a gold rim—and tossed it over. "It's also the most advertised secret, known by all, including rival kingdoms. With that said, I won't be revealing its name. But you are correct that it's crystal related."

I accepted the coin, and we continued the game. It was more mundane than I expected. He asked me everything from my favorite food to favorite color. I was also horrified to know that he had his own version of a hoodie made just for him based off Noira's designs.

Questions that asked about my original world were slipped in every now and then, but not nearly as much as I thought.

What I learned in return wasn't much—at least not substantial—but he was fully willing to divulge information about the houses when I posed the right question. Most, it turned out, were in a constant state of decline, at least power-wise. Out of the major houses, only a couple produced powerhouses expected to reach tier three and potentially beyond. But it was a losing game. As Legacies ran dry, the following generations struggled to keep up. It was solely through nepotism and the solid foundations laid by the smarter nobles that allowed them to keep up.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

It wasn't until thirty minutes later, after I asked a question following up on a particular noble house, that I realized what was going on.

"The tournament hosted in the arena tends to skew toward expected outcomes, but it's what makes upsets all the more interesting. To answer your question, the court trainers have taken note of those that surprised, like the Valentius boy. Up until now, he hadn't shown anything noteworthy, but his determination and lineage could mean the return of glory to his house. Or, there's even the potential for a sub-branch to be raised," Allaron explained.

"Hold on a second. That's why you've been doing this, isn't it?" I interrupted.

"Upholding my end of the bargain?" the cheeky bastard asked.

I shook my head in disbelief at my own stupidity and laughed to myself. "You flat-out told me your skill gives you insight into people. You never said it had to be through copying their actions alone. You're building a profile on me, aren't you?"

"Ah, so you noticed."

"I knew it!"

"I'll give this info for free," he said, amused. "My role as king never stops. While I possess a sharp mind, my skill does not give more insight the more I know. It can help provide context to inclinations and feelings, but nothing more. There's no need for me to parse you with my skill. That's what the analysts I keep on retainer are for."

Ahhh… That makes more sense. Celanae will be ashamed of me, but I can deal with that another night.

The others were still talking, relaxing now that Tyrrion was no longer attempting to encroach on my personal space. There had been movements with the other floating boxes. Stairs formed and individuals climbed their way inside.

Most wore fancy dresses and well-tailored suits of varying colors, but more than a few had some sort of obfuscation hiding their identities. The air would bend, or shadows elongated while the light around their hoods shifted hues. A few were like holes in reality, akin to the void but lacking its presence. Most of them relied on runed devices, with only a few having mana signatures that felt similar to self-afflicted skills.

It was surprising. Part of the whole ordeal of attending this event was the prestige it carried. Social gatherings were a game of politics. To be seen was to add to their reputation. It was also a closed event, so what was the point in hiding who they were?

"Not everyone you see is part of a house. Independent contractors who work for many like to hide their identities out of habit—and precaution. You never know when attending an event could backfire if you're caught taking a prize from one of the houses," Allaron explained, noting my staring even with the mask. "Many share an open secret, allowing those from the underground to attend without risking public backlash."

"I didn't ask," I muttered.

"You didn't, but it's my turn anyway," he said. I gestured for him to continue while rolling my eyes, and he cleared his throat. It wasn't the sound that made me turn, but the spike of mana around us.

"I'd like the full truth regarding my next question. An answer without the snark."

"If it's about the dungeon, you're out of luck."

The mana continued to close in, ramping in pressure even if it failed to squeeze me down. I stayed relaxed, not giving the king an inch. It'd take more to get a reaction out of me.

"We'll get to that," he stated. A crystal appeared in front of us and projected light onto the nearby table, showing scenes like pictures on a corkboard.

"Recently, we've had concerns involving a blood user abusing mass sacrifice to empower hidden rituals. My Hands have scoured the underground clean, revealing ritual circles and blood siphons."

The images shifted with a flick of his finger, conjuring up new ones in place. One showed the underground arena in the Pit, another was of the destroyed area where Sereza and I confronted Lezka. Off to the side were varying angles depicting the same orucan with flaming eyes.

Allaron continued, and the barrier around us started thickening.

"We've been informed by a scion, one who knows you. According to them, you are involved with the matter. A Reborn is a calamity and change, a storm waiting to appear. Know this, I will not suffer an incident like the one in Helio to occur in my city. So my question to you is simple," his voice echoed with power and authority that filled the restricted space. "Are you aiding this Master? Are the god's concerns of battle, true? Are you, Strax, an enemy?"

Now that the barrier was sufficiently condensed, I finally saw the crystallized walls locked together. They looked like honeycomb but jagged and sharp. Each piece pointed outward with visible wisps of cyan. The crystal projecting the images also shifted, becoming clearer as it started to hum, and my reflection shined on the surface.

When I extended my senses, a confusing duplicity entered my thoughts, but I managed to parse through the tangle after a second probe.

Oh, so that's what it is. Tthe barrier isn't for me. It's…

Tyrrion lashed Broken Tower together with earthen bindings while summoning a living snake from the box itself. The material sparked black and grey, lighting with brown that bordered on orange as panels opened between the scales, venting mana.

Teddy's parents drew their weapons but kept their distance.

"Allaron. We warned you," Nathan declared.

"I haven't attacked yet, and he hasn't answered. Friend of your son or not, I will not permit a threat like him within the kingdom. If I must fight you off, then so be it," Allaron replied.

"He hasn't answered yet, and you're wasting the good will you earned tonight," Anastasia snapped.

Allaron didn't budge, and Tyrrion formed slabs behind his back that looked like folded beetles made of grey rock.

"Well?" the king asked.

"I thought you weren't willing to risk my ire. Unless that was all a bluff?" I said.

"I'm not, if you're friendly. But you haven't answered me."

"Truth detection? I don't feel any enchantments activating on you, so a skill then? Like Myol's?"

He didn't reply, and I sighed, breathing in fresh air as I waved at the others. They remained calm, but they were ready to explode at an instant if needed. That calmed the fire inside, and I let the embers smolder.

No use in stretching this out. Oh well, you knew you wouldn't have a peaceful time anway, Cyrus.

I leveled my gaze with the king. "Here's my answer, plain and simple. If you're wondering if I'm aligned or helping the mysterious bastard, then you can stop worrying, because I'm not. And I will never be. Whatever the fuck you think about me, I wouldn't stoop so low as to involve myself in sacrificing people. As for the psycho brute and his god, I don't know and don't care. His obsession is his thing and not mine." I expelled my breath and Now kindly, and know I mean this when I say it. Leave me alone."

The barrier dropped and the crystal landed in Allaron's palm. In an instant, the stone creations surrounding Tyrrion dissolved and the ropes binding the others together retracted into his armor.

"Thank you," Allaron said as he sipped at his drink and relaxed in the chair.

I ignored the confusion on everyone's faces and pulled out a glass and held it out. The king filled it for me and I took a sniff. It smelled like fruit aged and fermented. I took a sip. Strong too, the flavor was crisp and settled in my chest like a bonfire.

"Did you get what you needed?"

"I did, and now there'll be no room for complaints. Good thinking at the end, they won't question me when I give out the items from the vaults. How's the Hearthmead?"

"Decent, was never much of a wine drinker myself but I get it. And I wasn't kidding. I hope to never see you after I get what you owe me," I took another sip and nodded to the king. "No offense."

"Expected. Here, take this as compensation. I'd love to pick your brains about your origins but it seems we are out of time. Look, there's my son and the clones. It looks like the auction is ready to begin," Allaron said, motioning toward a nearby box as he threw two more treasure tokens near my side.

A third sip increased the warmth to something akin to snuggling around a campfire, but nothing further.

Not bad, I might have to buy a crate of this. I wonder how much it costs.

One look at the king and I shook my head. I wasn't strapped for cash but I wasn't rich by any means. Eventually Isaac broke first and he started prodding my side, demanding to know what in the hells had just happened.

I ignored him, shutting off the physical stimulus to bask in the gentle warmth. In the grand stage below, the platform took on a golden light and the room started to darken. Day turned to night, with the burning star floating in the center of it all.

The time for the auction had come.

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