The Auction - Reagant City Depths

  Only the soft sound of breathing could be heard in the tunnel, hidden deep underground as they waited, none of the women daring to move beyond the slight rise and fall of their chests. Their eyes flickered around but their heads stayed forward, held high and shoulders squared. They pressed together, the cold of being this far underground seeping deep into their bones as they watched the flickering light at the far end of the tunnel ahead. Still, no one moved, tension coiled in the air, palpable and suffocating. The musty scent of damp earth hung in the stillness, but it was quickly overtaken by the sharp, cloying smoke of cigars, drifting in from the distance. A low hum of voices stirred faintly, growing closer, and the weight of waiting became almost unbearable. It wouldn’t be long now, judgement day was upon them.

  Only one of the women, standing toward the front of a large group, shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Her eyes had adjusted as much as they could in the oppressive blackness. She could just barely make out the other faces around her, all staring stone-faced toward the guards and the flickering light in the far distance. She could tell that the light was coming from a chamber of some sort down the tunnel, carved off to the side in the rough stone. There was a constant, quiet rumbling of voices now, the words unintelligible from this distance. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the woman next to her shiver, subconsciously rubbing her hands over the sleeves of her fur lined robe. She watched as their mentor, a gray haired woman with a permanent frown etched deep into the folds of her sagging face, turned a glare on the girl. The girl froze, immediately straightening, arms falling to her sides. Their mentors' frown deepened but her eyes returned to roving over the crowd of women.

  Just as the young woman focused her attention back on the flickering light, a short whistle sounded and they all straightened their posture, faces turning into unreadable masks of stoic calm. They began moving as one, marching forward as practiced a thousand times. As they moved, each foot hit the floor in time: Left, right, left. A quiet, rhythmic shuffling sounded as they strode forward. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the brightening light as they neared the chamber at the end of the tunnel. The sudden luminescence burned their eyes after being in the dark for so long and yet not one of them grimaced, faces remaining blank and expressionless.

  The voices became more intelligible the closer they got to the chamber but only a few, deep words met their ears over the rhythmic marching of bare feet on the rough stone. As they halted at the entrance to the chamber, guards blocking their path, the hushed male voices died completely. Silence swept over them as they waited. Then the guards parted, revealing a low wooden stage and the first row of women let their thick robes slip to the floor, revealing their naked bodies underneath. They moved forward gracefully, backs straight, and filed into another neat, single file line. They were signaled forward and they moved through the guards and up onto the stage. Not one of their faces faltered as they moved into the rehearsed position.

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  As the women filed onto the stage, lights began to flicker out in the back of the room, casting the watching men into darkness. Their features became obscured as the line of women made it into place and turned to face the crowd. Or, at least, to where they assumed a crowd would be. A large torch behind the stage was lit, along with smaller ones placed strategically to illuminate the women on display. A veil of enchanted material hung between the stage and the watching crowd of men, acting as a one-way glass. It allowed them to see the women on the stage clearly but the women, in turn, saw nothing but a shimmering, inky black curtain. Yet, they knew without a doubt that their destinies waited just beyond the gauzy material.

  Closest to the stage, just behind the veil, sat a luxurious viewing area. Or, what they had promised to those occupying it would be luxurious. Three carved oak chairs were arranged atop a colorful woven rug. The chairs and floor around them were piled high with overstuffed silk and satin pillows in shades of blues and greens. In the middle sat a tan, burly man with a well kept dark, red beard that flowed to the middle of his chest and matching hair, tied neatly into a bun, streaks of gray apparent within the thick waves. His dark brown eyes gleamed with amusement as he stroked his beard, taking in the women beyond the veil. To his right sat a tall, lanky man with matching coloring and a bored expression on his clean shaven face, slender fingers tapping the arm of his chair as he watched the procession. To the left sat a man of average height and build, slouched, taking in their surroundings with a frown. Unlike his father and brother seated beside him, his eyes were a deep, dark blue and hair more brown than red. He wasn’t particularly interested in the proceedings here but had been forced to attend.

  The so-called luxurious seating they had been offered was dirty and smelled slightly of mildew like they had been in this underground chamber for ages. The young prince glanced up from the soot and grim stained rug to his father and brother’s faces. Their eyes were roving over the naked women displayed before them. Though his brother looked bored, there was a gleam in his eye as he surveyed the offerings. With a sigh, he also turned his attention to the women on stage just as a man appeared, walking in front of the women and turning to face the crowd. . The hushed whispers that had begun from the groups of finely dressed men who stood behind them once again ceased as they all listened eagerly to the man now standing center stage.

  “Gentlemen,” He said, facing the curtain, “Thank you for joining us tonight.” The man grinned, eyes roving back and forth across the length of the curtain. He wore a long, black overcoat with fancy flourished tails that were dyed red and orange to give the appearance of flames. His shirt and pants were made finely and were all black. Atop his head stood a tall, plain top hat. Perhaps the most interesting part of his attire was the elegant, carved cane that he carried. It was carved in the shape of a huge black snake, intricately carved scales gleaming in the light of the torches. The handle was formed by the snake's head and the mouth was wide open, revealing sharp pointed teeth and giving the impression the snake was posed to strike. Its eyes were inlaid with red, almond shaped rubies and the end, which was designed to look like the end of the snake's tail, was set with a giant, matching bulbous ruby. Though, as the man began pacing back and forth across the stage fluidly, it became apparent the cane was merely for decoration rather than support.

  His eyes were beady and flickered mischievously across the curtain, as if meeting the eyes of the invisible men beyond. His curled mustache gleamed in the light of the fire as he smiled toward them.

  “I know you’re going to enjoy what we have prepared for you tonight,” He said, gesturing to the women behind him. They stared blankly at the curtain, faces devoid of emotion. The prince looked over each one, ten in total, taking in their features carefully. Though he wasn’t particularly keen on being here in this filthy chamber, he had to admit that it was interesting. He had seen women before, though not this many in one place. He had a maid and a nurse back home along with his mother, but he had never laid eyes on this many young women up close, bodies and faces bare for visual consumption.

  He had seen a few in the town center, heavily dressed and faces partially veiled as was the custom when women were in public. He never let his gaze linger too long on them as their husbands were always close at hand and watching them closely. He had never seen a woman under fifty years old with her hair and face exposed, nevermind completely stark naked. He tried to assess them as he had been taught. Soft features were desirable. Curvy hips and full breasts were best for bearing children. Taller height was also desirable but less important. The facial features were supposed to be secondary but that was where his eyes were drawn to most. Each face was unique and stunningly beautiful in its own way and so much more delicate than the faces of the males that surrounded him daily. He traced the delicate curve of cheekbones and noses with his eyes. He noticed some freckles and tiny moles scattered along the women’s bodies. The shade of their hair and skin were of every color. Pale blond to deepest black for the hair, all different lengths and textures. Skin from pale alabaster to dark umber, oiled and shining in the reflecting light. His father next to him lifted a hand and the prince was surprised he had made a decision so fast. It was overwhelming but the prince knew it was still early in the night. A servant shuffled forward at the king’s gesture and kneeled before him in answer.

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  “The fourth from the left and the seventh,” The king said in a low voice. The servant bounced to his feet and hurried to the end of the curtain where he whispered in a guard's ear. The guard turned toward the man on the stage. The prince watched as he raised both hands and signaled four and seven to the auctioneer. The man nodded and pointed the ruby ended cane at the girls called upon. Both women stepped forward one large step toward the edge of the stage as soon as the ruby pointed their way, eyes never breaking from whatever point they were trained to stare at.

  The king strummed his fingers on the arms of his chair as the servant returned and again kneeled before him to avoid obscuring his view of the stage.

  “Ages?” The king asked, keeping his voice low and not bothering to look at the servant. The servant immediately pulled a small scroll from inside his neat suit jacket and unrolled it, eyes darting across the parchment.

  “Number four is nineteen,” he said in an equally hushed voice. “Number seven is twenty.”

  The king clicked his tongue in response but said nothing more before turning to the tall prince to his right. The prince tore his eyes away from the women and raised an eyebrow at his father in question.

  The king gestured to the two women standing forward and asked, “What do you think, Tregan?”

  Prince Tregan glanced back at the women, studying them again for a moment.

  “Number four is bit too thin,” He said appraisingly. “Number seven is too short.”

  The other prince balked in his mind at the assessment but kept his face neutral. He looked at the women. They were ideal in every way he had ever been taught. The features his brother spoke of were so slight they were only barely noticeable.

  His father then turned to him, “What do you think, Beck?”

  Prince Beck took a full minute to answer, carefully considering his response. This was likely a test, he knew, though couldn’t imagine what the correct answer would be. He went over everything in his mind that he was supposed to remember.

  “What Tregan said is true, though only barely perceptible, I would have to agree,” Beck said slowly, not meeting his father’s piercing gaze. “Though out of all ten women I would say that number three has the most symmetrical features and well rounded assets.”

  After he was done answering he finally tore his eyes away from the women to see his father’s surprised but bemused expression. The king turned to the servant and muttered, “number three.”

  The servant once again went to the guard and the guard signaled for the third woman in line. The man gestured for four and seven to step back into line and the third to step forward. They all did as they were bid with easy grace. The king then turned to Prince Tregan once more and asked for his appraisal.

  Tregan drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair again as he observed the woman for a long pause. Then he nodded in what looked to be reluctant agreement. The king smirked and turned back Prince Beck.

  “Well done Beck,” He said. “The two I chose were a test to see if you would just blindly go with what I suggested or if you’d be able to pick out the better candidate in the lineup. Number three was also my choice out of this set.”

  The king nodded to the guard and he gestured to the auctioneer on the stage. The third woman who was standing toward the front of the stage now stepped three steps back as the auctioneer did some deliberate flourish with his cane toward her, obviously a signal of some sort. An older woman, clad head to toe in black and stooped with age and face veiled, approached the girl from behind and wrapped a heavy, fur robe around her shoulders and tied it at the waist. The girl did not react, still keeping her eyes forward and back straight.

  The auctioneer waited until the girl was situated and then turned back to the curtain. He gestured to the remaining nine women on the stage.

  “Now that our esteemed guests have made their evaluation, the auction is open to our remaining clients,” The auctioneer said, again gesturing his cane toward the women. He strutted down the stage toward the first woman to the left. “Let’s start here, shall we?”

  Murmurs broke out behind the royal seating area. The rest of the gathered men shifted closer to the stage for a better look. Beck looked behind him at the eager faces and roving eyes that took in the women before them. One by one, the bidding began for each woman. When they were won, the auctioneer moved them off stage in the opposite direction from which they entered. Once off the stage, they were too clothed in a robe and led to an unseen area for holding until the auction was over and they could be claimed by those who bid highest for them.

  The woman who had stepped to the back of the stage remained standing there as the next ten women filed up to be presented. The next round began the same as the first with the king and princes debating who best fit their criteria and then the bidding for the rest began. There were ten rounds total. By the time the eighth round had begun, most of the men had already bid on women and less bids began to fly. The king and his sons passed over all of the women in the eighth and tenth round of auction. The king explained to his sons that the best, prime candidates were placed into the first five rounds. The king frequently consulted with the servant and his scroll for various details about the women.

  Not all of the women were bid on. The ones who were passed over entirely were sent off stage back the way they had come. They would be auctioned off in various towns for lesser lords or even the stray commoner who saved up the money for a wife. Though they weren’t chosen, they kept their heads high, not a single one allowing their features to falter.

  Each time the king and princes selected a woman out of the line, she moved to the back of the stage and was clad in a robe to wait with their other selections. In the third round they couldn’t decide between two and picked them both. At the end, there were nine women in total. The auctioneer gestured for them to step forward again and they did as they were instructed, untying their robes in a swift, practiced motion and letting them slide to the floor as they took two collected steps forward. The old woman who had clad them, slowly moved to collect the discarded robes from the stage.

  “That ends our general auction,” The auctioneer announced from the stage. “If our bidders would please follow the guards standing ready to the left of the curtain to collect their new gains.” He flashed a brilliant smile and flourished the cane in the direction he had indicated. The men behind the royals all began chattering as they filed toward the waiting guards. The princes watched as they filed out, the sound of their voices growing distant and then fading completely. They turned their attention back to the stage, a stifling silence falling over the chamber.

  The king stood, stretching his limbs and gesturing for the princes to do the same. They glanced at one another before following suit. The servant stood off to the side of their area, apparently waiting for them to follow. When they were ready, he led them around the side of the curtain to the front of the stage. The auctioneer smiled down at them as he fiddled with the side of his long mustache. The king strode up the steps at the front of the stage and the princes followed him.

  “Now that the rest have been chosen,” The auctioneer explained, “You can take a closer look before making your decision.”

  The princes watched their father stride down the length of the stage, carefully taking in the details of each woman in front of him. He circled them once before stopping next to his sons at the front of the stage. As he had circled them, the women didn’t so much as twitch in response to his observation. The king nodded to his sons and they started walking in opposite directions from the center of the stage and around the women, crossing paths in the center behind them, rounding at opposite ends and returning to the center to stand with their father.

  The women they had chosen were all of similar height and build. Shorter than both princes, only slightly so than the prince of average height, with full breasts and wide hips. They varied greatly in skin and hair color, from lightest, milky white to dark, smooth ebony.

  “Well, have you made your decisions?” The king asked.

  The princes exchanged a brief look before nodding.

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