Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite]

Gilbert's expression immediately hardened before he slowly closed his eyes and wore a warm smile.

He nodded softly twice then said, "I can tell lies from the truth but it's such a shame that these old eyes of mine have stopped working properly... For a moment there, I thought I saw about a dozen or so ruby-gold coins on your palm, hahaha."

"... That's exactly what you saw," Lone said as he used his fingers to rather skillfully jingle the coins against each other without letting any of them fall out of his hand.

Gilbert shook his head. "I'm an injured old man, Son. It's in poor taste to make such bad jokes. Who knows? Maybe my real brain and heart will follow in the footsteps of my magical ones. Hahaha."

"But-"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Gilbert's monotonous laughter was eerie, to say the least.

Grimsley sighed. "Ignore 'at ol' goat. If the bugger claims plausible deniability, then ah say let the cunt."

Shana glanced at the still-broken Gilbert and muttered, "Well, actually, he's young for a dragonkin. Not only is he an unawakened beastkin and thus still immune to ageing, but he's less than 400-years-old I hear. For dragonkin, that's really young."

'Unawakened beastkin. Huh. Never heard that term before,' Lone thought. 'How does it relate to ageingimmunity?'

"'Ow'ed you get 'at much moolah in the first place, Laddie?" Grimsley asked. "Ya could buy an island kingdom fae 'at much gold, ah reckon."

"I got it fair and square through my own skill and talent," Lone said a bit vaguely.

"Fair? Heh," Sophie sniggered.

Gilbert raised a hand to his forehead and took a deep breath, a very deep breath. "Why are you not lying? No! Don't answer that! Any more absurdity and my eyes'll roll into the back of my head and I'll start frothing at the mouth!"

Sophie frowned under her helmet. "You are very dramatic and weak-minded for someone leading the largest Milindonian branch of one of the continent's mega-giant companies."

Gilbert shot her a pointed look. "It helps me cope. When you've lived for more than a century on a continent like Teresta, you need a bit of flair to work past the shocking news. Why just 50-years ago one of the world trees successfully fought off a full-on assault from one of the Eight Ancients. Now that's impressive. Impressive and utterly mind-boggling."

"Eight Ancients?" Lone's curiosity was immediately piqued.

Of course, he was also interested at the mention of a world tree since he had interacted with a former elder of one such tree back on Goblin Island - what Lone personally referred to the place as.

Gilbert shook his head. "Another time. For now, put that money away. People can see into this booth of ours just as we can see into theirs. We can talk about the Ancients whenever we want. I'll just say that it's the realm above Divinity."

He stroked his goatee and nodded happily when Lone returned his hand to his pocket, getting the ruby-gold coins out of sight and out of mind.

"I suppose I should tell you about the most important people we'll be facing against. After all, we run the risk of offending them if we win the baby foxkin," Gilbert said with a sigh of resignation.

"Risk?" Grimsley scoffed. "Mere like fact, nae a fookin' risk. Ah bet ma bloody beard every one ah the cunts 'as a stick up their arse. Question is, is the bleedin' thing far up enough to tickle the ol' 'ah'm superior, ah need the whatevermajig, ah'm ah gettin' it one way or another' bone."

Gilbert frowned. "What is with dwarves and 'arses'? Every one I've met treats it like the end all and be all of references."

Grimsley shrugged. "Every cunt's got an arse."

Lone nodded. "He's not wrong."

"Not you too..." Gilbert felt trapped.

"Anyway, arses aside, our competition?" Lone asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Right." Gilbert cleared his throat then said, "From what and who I can see, we have three main factions to be worried about tonight."

He inclined his head towards the fourth-best booth - what seemed to be the skull of some sort of six-eyed beast - where several well-dressed and well-groomed humans could be seen conversing with one another in joy.

Most of them were wearing dazzling jewellery while the man sat in the booth's central seat had a striking crown sat atop his head.

Lone recognised a handful of the suite's occupants, namely, Duke Malik, his daughter, Emma Malik, and the hero, Tamiko Daisuke.

Said hero noticed Lone's glare and returned it in kind. His expression only grew even uglier when he saw his three former slaves standing idly in the best booth of the auction, all well-fed, properly clothed and free of slave collars.

"... As you can see, that particular room is host to Milindo's royalty, three of its four duke families as well as the first minister, the royal advisor, and, of course, our mutual friend, Daisuke," Gilbert said.

His words made the incredibly quiet Breena Redtail and the elven girl shiver in fear while Shana ducked for cover behind her stocky uncle.

"Do not fear, children. He can do you no harm anymore. Stand tall and proud, as you are all free and under the protection of The Adventurer's Guild," Gilbert said very softly and in a reassuring tone.

Breena Redtail simply glued herself to a wall and tried to blend in with her surroundings while still expressing her fear.

Shana didn't move from behind Grimsley and the elf just started slowly crying as she nodded weakly.

"... Is her father coming soon?" Lone asked in reference to the elven girl.

Gilbert nodded. "After the auction. He wasn't able to get a pass as he had assured me he would. Problems happen, I suppose. Anyway, the next group to be wary of, yes?"

"Yes, please," Lone quickly agreed. The sooner they stopped focusing on the scum of Milindo, the better.

Pointing at the third-best booth - a golden chapel of grand magnificence, Gilbert sighed and said, "The Church of the Primals."

"Why the sigh?" Lone asked.

Apart from being incredibly faithful to a scary degree when it came to the fabled Primals, the church didn't seem all that bad from what Lone had read, so Gilbert's reaction confused him somewhat.

"The church likes to hide it but it can be rather... radical. They have a very strong distaste for us beastkin due to our connection to the Primals," Gilbert explained with a sad and slightly bitter tone.

"Wait, hold up. Beastkin are connected to the Primals? How?" Lone said.

Lone had no idea if this was common knowledge or not but this was the first he was ever hearing of this and his thirst for knowledge demanded an answer from the dragonkin sitting next to him.

"How do you not know som- Ah. Right. Your special circumstances..." Gilbert sighed. "It's... complicated. I have a few books on the subject back in my office. I'll let you borrow them once we get back. How's that sound, Son?"

Lone nodded. "Sounds good. So, do you think the church might buy the baby and do what with her? Kill her or something?"

"Primals 'at's dark, Laddie," Grimsley said. "Ah ain't no believer or nutin', but isnae 'at a bit of a gruesome assumption?"

"Unfortunately, they will likely raise her and attempt to forcefully awaken her to gain further insight into the Primals. I know not of your experiences with the church, Mister Ironsbane, but a swift death is certainly a more merciful fate than living as nothing more than what is essentially a walking experiment," Gilbert explained.

The Stone Dwarf frowned under his beard. "So even though the church mostly preaches fae equality amongst demis an' 'umans, they're cunts tae beastkin?"

"Yes, more or less," Gilbert said.

Sophie scoffed. "Religion is the same no matter where one hails from. Kind and just to the public; cold, cruel, self-centred and selfish behind closed doors. Nothing is worthy of worship."

"Soph would argue that fluff is more than worthy," Lone whispered teasingly.

"Ahem. Regardless, be a bit wary of them, Son. Our biggest contender, however, is the ruler of the Taslo Empire, Empress Okuldia. You can see her there in the booth next to ours. Don't look for too long though," Gilbert warned.

Lone craned his neck and peered out of the balcony carved into the massive gem that was his own booth.

Next to their suite could be seen a miniature floating palace made of water and stone. Such a thing had caught Lone's eye upon entering the auction, but now that he was looking at it he could see its immaculate beauty in even more detail.

In the palace could be seen a resplendent throne of coral and purple streams of water. Sat upon it was a dark-skinned woman wearing little more than a loose set of dancer leggings, a gold-embroidered metal bra and a mysterious veil which covered everything on her face bar her eyes.

Looking closely, Lone also noticed a very thin but striking tiara sat upon her head. She was alone save for the presence of an incredibly hunched over old man.

This man was wearing what looked like a rag and his face was hard to see under the rag's hood. Held in his hand was an incredible staff with what seemed to be a miniature sun as its head.

"Who's that?" Lone asked, gesturing with his head to the man.

Gilbert furrowed his brow. "Who? The empress?"

"No, the old man next to her," Lone corrected before he turned his gaze to look back at the water and stone palace, only, strangely enough, the man was gone.

"... Weird..." Lone muttered under his breath.

At that moment the empress of the Taslo Empire noticed Lone's prolonged gaze. Her eyes widened for a moment upon seeing him but she soon returned to her prior stoic aloofness before inclining her head and giving him an alluring nod.

'Does she know me?' Lone thought in confusion before he nodded back and removed his gaze.

"So, how is she dangerous?" he asked.

Gilbert scratched his head. "She actually nodded at you... Well, her empire has been at war with several of the beastman tribes and clans. Practically every single one not a part of the Beastman Alliance has been locked in a war with her empire for, oh, was it 1,000-years? Suffice to say, she is not most fond of free beastmen."

"I see..." Lone rubbed his glabella in thought. 'It is certainly weird for her to nod politely at me if she's the leader of an empire in favour of slavery, especially against my kind.'

Sophie furrowed her brow as she said, "How can a war last for so long?"

"Hmm? Well, the Taslo Empire is situated in one of the continent's largest deserts. It's a very arid land. The empire isn't willing to send its powerful warriors in fear of them dying, so they usually just send army after army of C or lower-ranked soldiers across the desert and they rarely deal significant damage to the clans and tribes they're at war with. It's mostly a ceremonial war at this point. Perhaps if the empress got serious things would change, but until then, well, it's the biggest stalemate of the era," Gilbert explained.

"Mmm... This is fookin' tasty as all hell." All eyes turned to Grimsley.

The dwarf was elbow deep in a chicken the same size as his torso. "What? Ya all 'eard 'at bloke fae 'afore. Free room service, aye? Fookin' best food ah've ever 'ad in ma 'ole life."

"Oh, to be simple and free of large worries," Gilbert lamented.

Grimsley chuckled before snapping off a chicken leg and tossing it at the dragonkin. Not expecting it, the greasy limb smacked his face, leaving a long trail of sticky oil.

"Sorry, ya nae a fan ah chicken? Do dragons consider 'em distant cousins? Didnae mean tae ask ya tae partake in cannibalism, hahaha!" Grimsley's lighthearted jab infuriated Gilbert.

"I am a dragonkin, not a stupid lumbering mass of raw power! How dare you call me a dragon!" He moved to stand up but accidentally stepped on the discarded chicken leg, almost resulting in him falling flat on his face.

Thankfully, he was an SS-ranker, and, while he was specialised in magic, he did have enough points in Agility to not fall over as he was sure the dwarf would have loved to have happened.

"Could you two children stop messing around?" Lone asked. "The host is on-stage. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that means the auction's about to begin, right?"

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