Path of Dragons-Chapter 37Book 8: : Beautiful People

“Hart. Elijah Hart,” Elijah said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he adjusted his tie. He’d always hated them as a concept, but he had to admit that the look had begun to grow on him. “Shaken, not shtirred.”

“What are you doing?” asked Sadie, standing in the doorway.

He glanced her way.

Or at least, that was what he intended. However, the moment he laid eyes on her, that intention went out the window, and he couldn’t help but stare.

“What?” she asked, looking down. “Do I have something on me?”

“You look amazing,” Elijah answered. “I mean, saying that sounds a little lame, right? Like amazing doesn’t really cover it. You always look great, but that outfit really, really –”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious. You thought your armor was eye-catching? That dress makes it look like an aluminum can. Or something. I’m bad with metaphors. My point is that the second you walk into that auction –”

“Ball. That comes first.”

“Right. Whatever room you walk into, you’re going to be the main attraction,” Elijah said.

In truth, he wasn’t really looking forward to the first part of the evening. His idea of a good party was sitting around a bonfire with his friends, new and old, telling stories and drinking way too much alcohol. Maybe even some good food – probably various grilled meats. But a borderline black-tie affair where he was expected to hobnob with the rich and powerful? That sounded a good deal like torture to him.

Having Sadie on his arm would help soothe the resultant wounds, though.

She was always beautiful, and often, Elijah found himself staring as he contemplated just how a woman could be so perfect. Certainly, he knew she had her faults – physical and from a personality standpoint – but with his feelings for her taking prominence in his mind, those felt more like quirks than real flaws.

But even those were smoothed away now that she’d taken steps to truly go all-out in terms of looks. She only wore a hint of makeup which was meant to enhance rather than conceal. That was the prerogative of those with flawless skin. No need to cover anything up when it was already perfect. Her hair was up, held in place by a pair of crossed decorative sticks that she referred to as kanzashi – which sounded Japanese to Elijah, but he wasn’t inclined to ask.

Instead, he was more focused on her body-hugging black dress that left very little to the imagination. When she’d revealed that they would be attending the ball, Elijah had imagined she would wear something far more conservative, as her nature generally dictated. Maybe a pantsuit. However, she’d explained to him that her attire was like social armor.

“You talk about it like we’re going to battle,” he’d said.

“Exactly,” had been her response.

And seeing the results, Elijah couldn’t argue that her looks weren’t the potent weapon she’d described.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied with a small smile as she stepped forward and adjusted his tie. “You clean up well.”

For his part, Elijah was decidedly uncomfortable, and not just because he was wearing actual shoes. That was part of it, and he already hated the polished leather torture implements that seemed intent on ruining his night. But the suit they’d commissioned the day before was, in a word, pretentious.

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Or maybe presumptuous.

It made Elijah feel like he was one of the sorts of celebrities who used to dress up for the Met Gala every year. To them, it was probably just a good way to get publicity and express themselves artistically, but to Elijah – and most of the rest of the world outside their little bubble of fans – it seemed like self-serving, narcissistic, and attention-seeking nonsense.

Of course, now that he was in their uncomfortable shoes, he realized that things weren’t always the way they seemed. He hadn’t even picked his own suit, so he expected that those people probably hadn’t either. Rather, they’d been chosen by publicists and fashion designers.

Thankfully, as uncomfortable as Elijah was, at least his outfit wasn’t too egregiously flamboyant. It was cut just like most suits from the old world, which meant that it consisted of slacks, a vest, a shirt, and a jacket. The shoes too, but the less he thought about them, the better. What made the suit different was the pattern.

“I really don’t think dragons are appropriate,” he muttered to himself, picking at the fabric. It felt a little like silk, but it was a little coarser and far sturdier. According to the Tailor, the jacket would actually stand up pretty well in combat.

“They suit you,” Sadie responded, patting him on the chest.

The pattern probably wasn’t as attention-grabbing as he imagined, largely because the stylized dragons which circled his arms, ending at his biceps, were only a shade lighter than the rest of the deep green fabric. However, when they caught the light, they glittered with a subtle current of ethera.

“I should’ve just worn my armor, and kept my flames going,” he sighed, turning back to the mirror.

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“Subtle,” she remarked.

“At least let me take my staff,” he whined, leaning closer to the reflective surface to ensure there were no stray hairs poking out of his beard. That, too, had gotten the attention of a professional. As had his hair when Sadie insisted he visit the resort’s salon.

“No weapons,” she reminded him. “That was the very first rule listed.”

“It’s basically just a walking stick.”

“With a three-foot blade sticking out of it,” Sadie pointed out.

“Yeah. It doubles as a farming implement,” he argued. “Who knows when I’ll need to reap some wheat or something, right? Plus, when I activate Nature’s Flame, it makes for a good conversation starter, right?”

“No, Elijah.”

His shoulders sagged dramatically. “You’re just no fun at all,” he said. Then, he gave her a grin before stepping close. “Good thing you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, then.”

“Don’t be hyperbolic.”

“I’m not.”

A hint of a blush brushed her cheeks before she let a small smile of contentment turn up the corners of her mouth. Then, she broke away, and after she turned toward the door, Elijah enjoyed watching her walk away. She looked back, “Are you coming?”

“Suppose I might as well,” he answered. “Didn’t get all dressed up for nothing, right?”

After that, the pair did one last check of their respective appearances, then left the rooms behind. It wasn’t until they reached the resort’s lobby that Elijah realized just how much attention they would get over the course of the night. Every eye followed them – and not just Sadie – as they left the resort behind.

Elijah had fully expected to walk to the venue – which was called the Gilded Vault – but there was a car waiting for them outside. It was long and sleek, with four doors and no wheels. Instead, it hovered six inches above the pavement on a cushion of ethera. Elijah had seen such vehicles throughout his time in the city, but he knew they were pretty rare.

“Getting the VIP treatment, I guess,” he said, gesturing for Sadie to enter first. The driver held the door open as she slid into place, and Elijah followed. The interior was all rich leather and pleasing smells, and when the vehicle accelerated, Elijah barely felt the momentum.

They arrived at their destination only a few minutes later. Upon exiting the vehicle, Elijah was distressed to see that their arrival had not gone unnoticed. Indeed, there was a crowd of people there. Some were plainly normal people who just wanted a glimpse of the rich and powerful, but there were plenty of other types there as well. The members of security were the easiest to spot, especially since they wore navy blue uniforms with high collared jackets. But there were others there as well.

“Who do you think they are?” Elijah asked, nodding at a group near the door.

“Journalists,” Sadie answered.

He’d never even considered that such a job even still existed. Obviously, there was a need for that kind of thing. Most people would want to know what was going on in the world. But it was such a familiar relic of the old world that it didn’t seem like it fit into the new.

“Isaiah thinks a free press is essential to a working society,” she explained. “It’s part of their Core Tenets.”

“How do you know this?”

“It was in the packet you didn’t bother to read.”

“Oh. Guess that makes sense, then.”

As they walked into the venue, Elijah couldn’t help but be impressed with the building’s architecture. It was brand new, but the Gilded Vault had clearly taken inspiration from neo-futuristic concepts from the old world. In this case, that meant an asymmetrical, curved shape that reminded Elijah of cloth rippling in the wind. The building was fronted by glass, and in the twilight, it glowed with orange luminescence that he knew couldn’t be natural.

“The Architect who built this was inspired by Zaha Hadid’s Heydar Aliyev Center in Azerbaijan,” Sadie said, clutching his arm. “It’s larger, of course, the curves more dramatic, but from what I understand, it captures the same essence.”

“What? How do you know that?” Elijah asked. She’d never shown much of an interest in architecture before. Then it hit him. “The packet, right?”

“Reading assigned materials is usually helpful,” she reminded him. “How you ever made it through university, I’ll never know.”

“Believe me, it was a close thing,” Elijah joked as they approached the door, which was flanked by a pair of men wearing composite armor and armed with rifles. Elijah grinned at them, saying, “At ease, gentlemen.”

A pale-skinned woman in a crisp pantsuit stepped forward. “Mr. Hart. Miss Song. So happy to have you here,” she said. “Mr. Hart, if it’s not too much of imposition, our Appraisers have a few questions about the shipment you sent. We have been trying to reach you since your arrival, but our messages must have been…lost in transit.”

Elijah massaged the back of his neck. He’d seen a couple of letters arrive, but he hadn’t bothered opening them. In his defense, he’d had other, more interesting things on his mind.

“Ah. I guess so. But sure,” he said. Then, to Sadie, he added, “I’ll meet you inside.”

She nodded, and a moment later, they separated. Without her on his arm, his insides twisted into knots as he imagined everyone looking at him. Studying him. Sizing him up. He wasn’t exactly socially anxious, but he definitely didn’t like being the center of attention.

Thankfully, he dipped inside and soon enough, the woman led him to an off-shoot hall that took him out of sight of the crowd outside. “I don’t know how people do it,” he remarked. “All those people – it’s exhausting.”

The woman didn’t respond, which Elijah sort of expected. She wasn’t there to hold a conversation or listen to him whine. So, they traveled the rest of the way in silence, and after only a minute or two, they descended some stairs into a large warehouse. Elijah didn’t even need to focus on Soul of the Wild to recognize that this was where the items meant to be auctioned had been stored.

“Ah, Mr. Hart,” said a short, pudgy man in spectacles. He hurried forward, extending his hand. “I’m Norbert Iglesias, and it is my absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Elijah said, shaking the man’s soft hand. “What’s up? Was there a problem with my soap?”

“Ah. No. Not as such. It is quite remarkable. Who made it?”

“Homebrewed,” Elijah said. “Wood ash lye. Fat from a high-level beast. That sort of thing.”

“You are a Tradesman?”

“Nope. But I dabble.”

“I…ah…I didn’t think that was possible. But no matter,” he said as he pulled a tablet from his pocket. After making a couple of notes, he asked, “Do you understand the terms of the auction?”

“Not really. I might’ve missed that part of the welcome packet,” Elijah admitted.

After that, Norbert revealed that the Gilded Vault would take a ten percent cut from all sales, while the host city would be paid five percent. In addition, he claimed that the Gilded Vault had a presence in seven other cities, including Argos. How they’d spread so quickly, Elijah wasn’t certain, but he didn’t ask. Auctioneers weren’t really on his radar in terms of importance.

So, Elijah agreed to the terms, and Norbert asked, “Now, to the real reason I asked you down here. How much of that soap do you want to auction, and in how large of batches?”

Elijah tapped his lip before asking, “I’m not sure. What were you thinking?”

In answer, Norbert gave him a wide variety of options, and they ended up deciding on selling them in hundred-pound quantities. If they went smaller, then the auction would be taken over by soap.

“This will be extremely popular,” Norbert said after they were finished.

“I hope so,” Elijah responded, clapping the man on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an insufferable ball to attend with the most beautiful woman in the world.”