The entire underground tiered arena froze.
In the second-tier balconies, the silver fox masks turned all at once toward the highest row of the stone bleachers.
The crackle of corpse-fat candles was the only sound left in the cave.
Even the iron chains suspending the chandeliers seemed to hold their breath.
Three hundred coins of unclipped royal silver was a preposterous sum.
It was enough to equip two whole infantry battalions of the country army, or purchase thirty mountain ox teams and three granaries in the Lower Docks.
No private mercenary or itinerant martial artist carried three hundred coins into a black market.
Down on the black glass dais, Auctioneer Yan slowly lowered his bone gavel.
