Veylin gently held the Brew between two fingers, making it look all the more enticing in the candlelight.
"I believe its effects need no further explanation."
"A ban bearing the Inquisition's seal is the best description it could have."
There was undisguised mockery in Veylin's voice.
"After all, something useless wouldn't be worth all this fuss from the holy Church."
A ripple of stifled laughter came from the audience.
"Now, let us begin. The starting price is thirty Gold Suns."
Barely had he finished speaking when a hoarse voice rang out impatiently from a corner, its owner raising his bidding paddle.
"Eighty Gold Suns!"
The price more than doubled in an instant.
A faint stir immediately swept through the crowd.
"One hundred and twenty!"
"One hundred and thirty!"
"Two hundred!"
The speed at which the price climbed exceeded everyone's expectations.
Spurred on by the ban and emboldened by anonymity, the nobles abandoned their usual restraint entirely.
Every bid was driven not only by desire, but also by a small act of defiance against authority.
In the end, the first Brew sold for two hundred Gold Suns—six times its public sale price!
Veylin remained utterly unmoved. Everything was going according to his calculations.
The auction proceeded in orderly fashion.
As the remaining lots dwindled, Veylin deliberately slowed the pace, creating the urgency of a countdown.
The atmosphere below the stage grew increasingly frenzied, and the bids climbed ever higher.
The twenty Brews ultimately brought him more than three thousand Gold Suns.
Even after deducting Count Lyman's share, his net earnings came to nearly two thousand.
The exceptional effects and the thrill of the forbidden turned this "Last Masquerade Auction" into a legend tacitly shared among the Royal Capital's most elite circles.
Over the following week, Veylin repeated the process and held