I'm a Immortal Tavernkeeper, But My S-Rank Daughter Doesn't Know That!

Although the Selvarum Sword was extremely expensive, one hand immediately went up when the price of 500 gold coins was announced, followed by another and another.

The bids rose quickly, higher and higher, until the sword was finally snapped up by a blue-robed nobleman sitting near the center of the hall for 3,000 gold coins. This was more than even someone like Victor had managed to accumulate in a lifetime.

However, this sword was only the first item on the auction block. There were at least fifty others.

Barnabas continued to lead the auction, presenting a series of equally impressive items: rare jewels, ancient artwork, pieces of armor, and even a scroll of spells purportedly written by the legendary wizard Aqualeron, the first practitioner of water magic.

The bids continued to rise as the guests competed to acquire the precious items.

As the minutes ticked by, the auction continued at a brisk pace. Victor glanced occasionally at the woman he had spoken to earlier. She was sitting next to the nobles, her face partially hidden by the mask, and one noble at the table had bought many things from the auction.

Victor felt like going over to Luisa’s table, where he had a seat for himself, to ask who the nobles were next to the red-haired woman and if Luisa knew them. But it certainly wouldn’t be nice to ask a lady with whom he had just discussed his relationship with another woman. So Victor stayed where he was, near the snack table, where he had a good view of the whole hall.

The auctioneer was about to present the next item when suddenly all the lights in the room went out.

A murmur of surprise and concern ran through the room, which was plunged into almost total darkness, interrupted only by the faint glow of the few candles still burning on some tables.

Barnabas’ voice echoed through the room, trying to calm everyone.

"Please remain calm. It’s probably just a technical problem. Our assistants are checking the situation."

Victor narrowed his eyes, trying to adjust his vision to the darkness, and his senses expanded with Den.

His ears picked up a quick movement, the sound of footsteps even amidst the hubbub of the dancers. It was not the footsteps of the guards, there was no sound of armor, and he saw shadows moving quickly, so he realized that the situation was more serious than it seemed.

When the lights came on, dozens of men in long black cloaks were spread out in all four corners of the hall. They didn’t look like assassins, ninjas, or common thieves. They were hooded and wore skull masks.

"Everyone, stay where you are!" One of them shouted in an authoritative tone. "This auction is now under our control."

Part of this group of invaders was on the stage, surrounding Barnabas and some assistants. And they had daggers in their necks.

"Silence!" shouted the man at the front of the stage again, apparently the leader.

He was tall and strong, but his face was hidden by his mask.

"You will all be our prisoners until we get what we want."

The crowd obeyed, and the whispering stopped almost immediately. He stepped forward, positioning himself in the center of the stage where the light from the magical spotlights illuminated him perfectly, highlighting the skull mask that hid his face.

"You, you all think you’re superior, don’t you? Competing with your astronomical bids for ’charity’. But let’s be honest, the best thing you could do is not donate this money to charity. No, that’s not even a donation. The best thing to do would be to pay fair and realistic wages. Do not turn your workers into virtual slaves."

There was a murmur of discomfort among those present. Some merchants exchanged worried glances, while the nobles wore defiant expressions, as if they wanted to protest, but knew it would be pointless.

"Ah, the irony," the leader continued, his voice filled with sarcasm. "You are here, at a luxury auction, spending fortunes on items that are nothing more than symbols of your status, while outside, on the streets, people are starving, with nothing to wear and nowhere to sleep. Do you think you are doing your part by giving a few coins to charity? You’re not heroes. You are parasites. The nobility are the great parasites of the workers."

Victor felt a wave of indignation mixed with a strange feeling of agreement. He knew there was some truth in the man’s words. However, violence and intimidation were not the way to go. He had to think of a way to neutralize the situation, or at least get Luisa and Mari out of this place.

On the other side of the hall, Luísa stared at the leader of the intruders. She seemed to want to act, but was clearly assessing the situation and waiting for the right moment.

"So, what’s the plan?" One noble, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed gray beard, shouted and stood up. "You want money? We can negotiate."

The leader let out a dry laugh. "Money? We’re not here for money. We’re here for justice. We’re here to show you that you cannot continue to live in opulence while others suffer. Today, you’re going to feel what it’s like to be powerless, to be helpless. Please, boys, kill this man who thinks he’s something."

The gray-bearded nobleman, still standing, took on a tone of desperation as he stepped back. "Wait, I said we can negotiate. I have resources and contacts. We can resolve this without violence."

His words were a desperate attempt to calm the situation, but deep down everyone knew the leader of the invaders wasn’t there to negotiate.

The leader of the hooded men laughed again, a dry, cruel sound that echoed through the hall.

"You rich people always think you can buy anything. You think your money can solve every problem, don’t you?" He gestured to one of his men, who slowly approached the nobleman.

Victor held his breath as he watched one man in black pull a short sword from under his cloak. The steel glittered menacingly, and without hesitation, the assailant brandished the sword and slashed the nobleman’s throat in one swift motion. Blood spurted into the air and fell on some people standing nearby.

The nobleman’s scream was stifled to a horrible gurgle, and he fell to the ground, writhing as his life ebbed away.

The hall erupted in screams of terror and panic. People stood up and tried to walk away from the hooded men, but the leader raised his voice over the chaos.

"Calm down! Everybody stay calm or we’ll start a slaughter!" His authoritative tone silenced the screams, replacing them with sobs and murmurs of terror.

Victor felt the anger boiling inside him, but he knew he had to keep a cool head. He looked around, analyzing the situation. His eyes moved quickly, taking in every detail, every movement of the hooded shadows that now controlled the hall. He knew he had to act, but any wrong move could be fatal.

The few city guards present were surrounded, unable to react. Any attempt at resistance would be quickly crushed. And these men had probably already dealt with the guards outside, so it was clear that they were on their own.

Luisa, across the hall, met Victor’s eyes. She was crouched behind a table, trying to stay out of sight. Her eyes shone with a mixture of fear and determination.

Victor knew she was ready to act, but they were waiting for the right opportunity.

"You are now our prisoners," the leader continued, strolling across across the stage. "As I said, this isn’t just about money or power. It’s about justice. This is going to be a long night, but how about we start by taking your belongings?"

The invaders began moving the hostages around, forcing them to hand over what they had in their pockets and to sit in groups on the floor.

One invader passed close to Victor, but probably mistook him for a waiter because of his tuxedo and mask. He took the opportunity to move to a better position near the balcony, the only place he could get out.

He knew he had to hasten if he was going to do this, but any hasty move could be fatal. When Victor saw that no one was looking in his direction, he began rushing toward the balcony, neither so fast as to be running, nor so slow as to be a leisurely stride.

When Victor was only a few steps from the balcony, he heard a sound that made his heart stop for a moment.

A harsh voice called out to him, cutting through the murmur of panic that filled the room. "Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing?"

He turned slowly, trying to remain calm, but met the cold eyes of one of the intruders. The man was holding a short sword, the same type that had been used to kill the nobleman moments before.

"I was just trying to get some fresh air," Victor replied.

The intruder did not look convinced. "You seem pretty calm for someone in the middle of a hostage situation," he said, approaching slowly. "Take off your mask. I want to see your face."