Wish Granted Ch. 05

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Danetta is sold.
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Part 5 of the 10 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 07/01/2017
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The Auction Hall was a closed off section of a larger building. The main area consisted of a stage with a podium and several wooden chairs for an audience, with an aisle in the center wide enough for two people to walk through, similar to a temple's seating. Each audience member that wished to bid on anything, or in this case, any person, had to pay a fee in advance. Then employees handed them white, triangle shaped hand fans with bold black numbers painted on them. They were similar to a lady's folding fan.

The other audience members were only there to watch the auction. Sometimes, bidding wars took place, and sometimes tempers rose. It was considered to be quite entertaining to watch the wealthy compete over something, often overpaying for it simply out of pride and spite.

It was a cool morning when the auction began, and Danetta was waiting in a queue behind a thick green curtain. From her vantage point, she could see each person's profile as they stood on stage and had their services sold off. The auctioneer was a man with graying blond hair and a huge wart on his cheek. Danetta was pretty sure his name was Orvald.

When telling the audience of the person's service, and when telling them the starting price and minimum bidding increments, Orvald spoke normally. When it was time for the actual bidding, he spoke so rapidly that Danetta hardly understood him. Overall, the audience seemed quite polite and peaceful. She didn't hear any voices from them other than the occasional buzz of a whisper.

"And sold! To number three for one hundred and twenty six thousand Dakets!" Mr. Orvald banged a gavel onto his podium. "Two years of construction work from Mr. Bosco Yuler! Your contract with him will be drawn up after the auction is finished." He nodded to the Yuler person. "Please exit to your left and wait backstage."

At the front of the line, a young woman walked over to a space near the podium and bowed her head. The auctioneer looked at his stack of papers. Then he lifted them up and tapped them on the podium to straighten them, even though they had already seemed straight to Danetta.

"Here we have Miss Lillia Carton. She is highly skilled in embroidery and is exceptionally fast with stitching. She is selling one year of seamstress work. The starting bid is ten thousand Dakets. Minimum increment is one hundred. "

The audience was still calm. After a time, the woman's services were sold for forty thousand, eight hundred Dakets. The next person was a portly, but friendly looking man. He was selling three years of work as a personal cook. Ninety three thousand, six hundred Dakets was the ending price for him. He seemed quite pleased with the money. He was smiling as he left the stage.

Soon, a mother was selling off four years of her fourteen year old daughter's life to be a maid. The minimum age to have one's services just so happened to be fourteen. The price ended up being eighty one thousand, six hundred Dakets. Because the daughter was under the age of eighteen, the mother could only demand a quarter of the money, and that was only if the daughter consented. As for Danetta's case, being past eighteen, she could legally hand over all the money to her father and no judge would bat an eyelash.

Of course, it was soon Danetta's turn to walk onto the stage. Her best dress, her blue dress, had been crisply washed and starched. She had no shawl to cover her bosom. Her lips were slightly reddened by some low cost, yet effective, swatches of paper dyed red and then dampened to transfer their color. Similar papers with pale pink dyes had been rubbed onto her cheeks and nose for a just barely there blush of innocence. Part of her hair was combed down around her skull, held down with a plain net of white ribbons. The length of the hair was let loose, though, billowing out from the net in a pale cloud of curly light hair.

While she knew she was meant to keep her face up to entice the men in the audience, her eyes wanted a loophole. They pointed down to her pale, smooth hands that had been so lovingly soaked in cream so perfect it was hedonistic.

Beforehand, a catalog of the people's services had been passed out, telling the potential buyers what to expect. She knew that several men knew there as a wife for sale. They wouldn't be surprised, only curious. Some of the men might have brought their parents along to examine her.

A growing fever was humming throughout the audience. Danetta was unable to stomp down the conceit blooming in her heart, but she was able to keep it from showing on her face. Humility was prized in a wife. She knew that she shouldn't hold onto vanity for very long.

Orvald the auctioneer flipped a few pages underneath his stack, and then he began the introduction. "This is Miss Danetta Saivio, daughter of the widower Batren Saivio. She is offering herself as a wife. She has received a quality education, including but not limited to reading, writing, sewing, cross-stitching, dancing, playing the flute, and canvas painting."

Dancing? Flute? Painting? She blinked as she was reminded of the skills. Danetta actually forgot that she used to do such things. She was never so learned in such subjects that she would have considered herself to be a genius, but as she searched her brain for the old memories, her fingers jerked and fidgeted as they soaked in the long lost movements they were once accustomed to. Her recently polished fingernails tapped together. If Danetta were allowed, she would have moved her limbs in an attempt to regain the nearly forgotten hobbies.

The auctioneer was uncaring of her thoughts. He went on with his job. "She is to be examined by a physician in the Glass Temple immediately after she is purchased, and once she is shown to be in good physical health, she will be married right after, with the physician serving as a witness, along with her father, and any other person you might have brought with you. She will be a legally recognized wife, and divorce will not be permitted for one year."

She didn't know about the examination, or the temporary anti-divorce rule. Her eyelids closed for a few seconds. What if she ended up married to a cruel abuser?!

"The starting bid is twenty thousand Dakets," said the auctioneer. He then paused, and Danetta wasn't sure why. "Oh, Miss?"

"Hm?" Danetta turned to him and curtsied, but she didn't look up at him. "Yes, Sir?"

"Let me see your eyes, Miss."

Danetta looked up at his face for a few seconds. He walked away from the podium and stood over her with an inquisitive look on his face. Then he nodded and went back to his podium. He used a long pen to scribble something on his papers. "Her hair, as you can see, is long, curled, and light blonde. She is pale, of brief height, and her eyes are a color like blue, but also green. The starting bid is twenty thousand Dakets. Minimum increment is two hundred."

Danetta honestly thought that the starting bid was too high. A pretty wife was nice, but most men would rather have a wife with more to offer, like a bit of land or a royal title. Unfortunately, though, her father was desperate. She wondered if the bidding would last more than a minute.

"Twenty one thousand!" She didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded like an old woman's. Maybe a mother was trying to get her son to settle down?

Mr. Orvald called out, "Twenty one thousand! Can I have two hundred to that? Twenty one, two hundred? Twenty one, two hundred?"

"Aye, I'll take that!" That voice sounded like a rough old sailor. Being a sailor's wife wasn't a bad idea. A life near the docks might be amusing. She'd be able to see the ocean, smell the air she'd always imagine to be rich, and meet people from around the world with adventurous stories to tell. Her father had been to the docks often, but she had never been there.

"Twenty one, two! I have twenty one, two! Can I have twenty one, four?"

"Twenty one, six!" That was the old woman's voice.

"I have twenty one, six! Can I have twenty one, eight?"

"Thirty thousand!"

What?

Wait.

No.

That voice ...

Danetta's eyes slid up to scan the audience.

Despite his seat in a back corner of room, despite his mostly drab colors, he stood out like a great flame among little statues of wax, gradually melting the figurines and maximizing its presence in the process. The only article on his person that suggested his social standing was a round golden pin on his coat with a crest on it. Although she was a certain distance away, and unable to discern the details of the pin, she knew it displayed a mountain cat. It was the only flashy thing about him. Everything else was gray, black, or white.

And his face was still hidden from her, wrapped in gray cloth. She saw that his hands were different. He didn't have brown gloves. He had black gloves, shiny yet austere. One hand held up a fan with the number eight on it. The other loosely gripped a cane with a wooden handle. Some people gave him bemused looks, but other than that he wasn't given much consideration.

The memory of his voice shot through her. "Do you see the path before you?" Her teeth scraped her lower lip. "You don't have any idea what's happening, do you?"

Her heart was sliced into two maddening forms She wanted the sun to shine through a window and vaporize her so she could die and never be seen again. She wanted the sun to put a glow to her features so that she could be seen as angelic.

Then her breath surged back and forth, and she actually hoped that her nipples would pop out of her neckline. She wanted the duke to see them, tight and hardened. She understood enough about nipples to know that they would change either when the body was cold or when the mind was kindled. While the morning was cool, the amount of people had heated the room, and the duke would certainly take her nipple's reactions as a sign of wantonness.

Her mind was screaming out, "Yes, My Dearest Duke! I would be blissful as your bride!" Danetta didn't care that she didn't have any idea what his face looked like. She didn't even care that she didn't know him very well. He seemed a to be a better candidate than everyone else in the room.

The auctioneer cried out, "Thirty thousand! I have thirty thousand! Can I have thirty thousand, two?"

The old woman gave her next bid. "Thirty thousand, eight hundred!" Danetta looked at her. She had a short man beside her with a cord of leather holding his long hair back. He was reading a book.

"Forty thousand, six hundred!" That was Duke Adurant. Danetta's lashes fluttered. She went back to looking at him.

"Forty thousand, six!" Mr. Orvald pointed and nodded at him. "Can I get forty thousand, eight?"

"What's everyone bidding on with such passion?" Someone just entered the Auction Hall. The voice was a man's. Danetta looked to him.

It was an impressive man in a bright coat, loaded with munificent embroidery; one of the things embroidered was a large family crest of a hawk. His hat had a few sparkling pins. His shiny brown hair bounced around his broad shoulders and framed high cheekbones. A woman followed the man inside, wearing an impressive pink walking gown adorned with loops of black ribbons. Her hair was similar to the man's, but it was mostly put up under a large hat. Only a single, artificially curled lock was allowed to escape and slide over her neck and to her bosom. She had a crest matching the man's in the form of a silver belt buckle around her waist.

Both obviously wealthy people seemed highly amused at the audience at first, but then the man turned his dark eyes to the stage, and his strong jaw fell for a moment. Then he rushed down the aisle and asked the auctioneer, "What service is she selling?"

Mr. Orvald tapped his stack of papers with his pen, his brow wrinkling. "May I ask your name, Sir?"

"Duke Kristof Bransted, Lord of the Wyden province."

That sounded familiar. Danetta's eyebrows lowered and she stared at the man's face. She wasn't required to curtsy, because she was on a stage, technically not socializing with the man.

The audience's murmuring grew louder, accompanied by the occasional glance of approval at the beauty of the Duke's companion.

The auctioneer smacked his lips and cleared his throat. "Your Grace, this woman is selling her services as a wife. However, I must alert you to your inability to bid at this auction. You did not pay the base fee, and you were late to arrive. I'd dare to say you entered on a whim."

The nostrils of Duke Bransted's straight nose widened a little. His well shaped lips almost tangled as he snapped out very irritably, "There's always a way around these things!" He turned to Danetta with a much softer expression. "Do you remember me, Sweetling?"

She honestly didn't, but she knew that she was required to curtsy the moment he spoke to her. So, Danetta gave a quick one, and then she said, "No, Your Grace. I can not recall anything about you."

The aristocratic stranger's lips tightened. He blinked up at her a few times. Then his lips loosened enough for something like a smile. "I'll have to remind you, then." He turned back to the auctioneer. "What's the current bid?"

"Forty thousand, six hundred, Your Grace," Mr. Orvald replied.

A quick nod, then a true smile, and Duke Bransted said to Danetta, "I'll give you eighty thousand if you forfeit your place in the auction and come to my townhouse as soon as possible."

Just about everyone in the audience gasped.

That wasn't a marriage proposal. That was something else. Then lightning struck her senses, knocking her into the truth. Danetta's eyes widened and she tilted her head. This man, this duke, he had once asked her to be his lover long ago, when she still had pretty dresses and desserts in her home. At the time, she refused because it didn't seem to be a wise decision to her.

And here he was, basically giving her the same proposition.

His female companion held up her skirt and rushed up to him. "Kristof! Have you lost your wits? What's this woman to you? Nothing, that's what!" Her lovely, heart shaped face was reddening, and her dark eyes were shooting out anger.

Danetta curtsied again. "Your Grace, your offer is generous, but I can not see the justice in it. I've made a promise to marry one of these men. One couldn't possibly see the virtue in a woman who would break her word so easily."

The man's eyes narrowed. He flung his arm into the air, his sleeve fluttering a bit. "Ninety thousand, Woman! Will ninety thousand please you?"

Perhaps it would have, if the prospect of being married to a kind man wasn't knocking on her door. Her eyes flitted to her favorite bidder, Duke Adurant. He was already walking down the aisle. "Auctioneer! I'm increasing my bid to One hundred thousand!"

Both of the brunettes turned to look at him. Then the female burst into the cruelest laughter Danetta had ever heard from a woman. She didn't know how to describe it, except that it reminded her of a very beautiful yet poisonous spider for some reason.

Duke Bransted turned back to Danetta, rolled his eyes, and said, "Such a pathetic display. This must be the only method of securing a wife you have."

The woman only laughed harder while the watching audience gossiped. They really should have brought some snacks.

If Duke Adurant had any reaction to those words, Danetta didn't notice it. All he said was a very placid bid, as if he wasn't concerned at all. "One hundred and fifty thousand."

"Sir, you don't need to increase your bid," the auctioneer said with a weary tone. He was rubbing one his temples with his pen. "His Grace's bids aren't registering, and the woman isn't agreeing to cancel her place here. She's determined to be married."

Danetta's favorite bidder was completely nonchalant as he said to Mr. Orvald, "Two hundred and fifty thousand."

Duke Bransted blurted out, "You have no place above me, you disgusting husk!" He even waved his cane about as if he wanted to hit someone. "Four hundred and fifty thousand, Woman! Consider your options!"

Danetta wasn't satisfied with the price, let alone the man. She only lowered her eyes and waited for an ending to the absurdity.

The auctioneer said, "Two hundred and fifty thousand to number eight! Going once!"

And the masked man had the nerve to raise his own bid. "Six hundred thousand!"

The auctioneer stole a quick glance to Danetta, who nodded her head as tactfully as she could. "Fine! I don't care anymore! Six hundred thousand to number eight! Going once! Going twice!"

"Give me a moment, Man!" Duke Bransted ordered as if he had every right to.

Mr. Orvald ignored him. "Sold! Sold to number eight!" There was applause, but the auctioneer focused on Duke Adurant. "What's your name, Sir?"

With a humble bow, the masked man gave his answer. "Duke Erdgar Adurant, Lord of the Duvanu province."

The auctioneer paused and stared at the winner. Then he looked at Danetta. "This man just paid you to become his duchess. I don't know what the blazes you did, but keep at it."

"I must object!" That Duke Bransted was very obstinate.

His female companion tugged on his arm. "Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough?"

He put a dirty look to his competitor, then he groaned and stormed out of the building, ranting about how some people never learn their places. The woman looked up at Danetta, smiled, and said, "I won't be seeing you ever again, it seems. So, goodbye, whoever you are." Then she hurried out to follow the man.

Danetta's knees collapsed. She knelt on the stage and put her fingertips to her brow. All of that had just happened ... all of that ... she almost couldn't believe it.

***

The Glass Temple was called such because of its tall, imposing windows, stained in several beautiful colors, every bit as lovely as a rainbow rose. As Danetta was escorted into the temple by her cheerful father and her quiet betrothed, she gazed down at the backs of her hands and watched multiple colors glide across her flesh. She heard Duke Adurant murmur down to her, "This is an enchanting place to marry."

Unable to come up with a better statement, she nodded. Then she looked towards the altar. A priest wearing a white robe was there, and so was a woman in a gray dress with an apron similar to a maid's. She was holding a large bag with firm handles. When the trio reached the altar, the woman smiled at them and waved her hand.

"Dr. Agathi at your service!" Her nose was dotted with mild freckles. "This must be the bride! It's nice to meet you!" She didn't curtsy. She only took Danetta's wrist and said, "Best get this over with, Honey. It won't be pleasant." She led Danetta to a small room meant for private prayer. There weren't any windows. The physician had to light a few candles. "Alright then, strip for me. I need to see everything you've got." Danetta couldn't figure out a way to say no. All she could do was obey.

First, Agathi examined her face, then the inside of her mouth. Then she ran her gloved fingertips up and down all of her limbs, her front, and back. "I heard you used to get beaten up a lot, Honey. Well, you're not all squeaky clean yet, but you're as healed up as you can be." The doctor's voice was very genial. "I don't see any evidence of recent assaults. Good for you! Now sit in that chair over there. I need to stick my fingers in you."

Danetta's eyelids nearly stretched into circle shapes. "Why do you need to do that?"

Agathi was washing her hands in a bowl of funny smelling water when she answered, "I'm going to see if you're pregnant or diseased, or both."

"Oh." Danetta tried not sound offended. "I understand."

And ten minutes later, she was getting dressed, wondering if all new brides had to go through such a peculiar experience. It was unpleasant and it made her feel uncomfortably dry between her legs. She was looking forward to her next trip to a chamber pot because she thought urine might moisten her up.

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