Quite a few people were tempted, but one lady voiced their doubts. "How do you prove Jack actually used it?"
"Exactly. At least you could prove little Annan wore those socks. How do you prove anything about a blanket?" another veiled lady called out.
The auctioneer remained unhurried. "I understand your concerns, but the seller has provided proof."
Annan clicked his tongue. He almost wanted to applaud.
They'd prepared so thoroughly. Selling his secondhand things seemed beneath their talents...
What did these women want with his blanket? Hard to guess...
Someone else stepped onto the stage. Annan shifted from side to side, but he couldn't see past the crowd and gave up.
"I have a photograph proving Lord Annan personally slept under this blanket."
The photograph was passed around. The Auction House, full of skeptical voices moments ago, suddenly buzzed with excitement, and the unwanted secondhand blanket's price shot up.
"Eight Gold Narls!"
"Ten Gold Narls!"
"Thirteen Gold Narls! I'm getting it no matter what!"
"Fifteen! Nobody's taking my Annan!"
"Twenty Gold Narls! I don't care if it ruins me!"
Even for a blanket that could make you feel wrapped in his arms, twenty Gold Narls was outrageous. Many bidders backed down.
"Twenty-five Gold Narls, if you include the photograph." A slightly husky, oddly familiar woman's voice rang out.
Annan searched his memory for a familiar face but couldn't place her.
"Sorry, the photograph isn't for sale."
"Thirty Gold Narls," the woman replied, raising her offer.
The photograph reached Ingrid, who handed it to Annan without looking.
This little device, developed from the Recording Magic Stone, could capture a scene and imprint it on the same kind of paper used for newspapers. The result was more lifelike than an oil painting, and anyone could use it with a simple press.