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Chapter Seven: Man of the Hour | Part 4

While the other recruits dealt with fliers and decorations and spreading the word, Thirtyx took it upon himself to rally some bigger ticket items. Most of these kids carried more pocket change than Thirtyx had ever touched in his life. Would one of them pay an absurd price for an authentic demon horn chalice if it boosted their clout at parties? He’d seen crazier.

He and Seerla even cornered Professor C after their rhetoric class one morning. Leveraging her extensive network, Seerla had learned Professor C was a high-ranking member of the Athernel Choir and sang in a quartet in her free time. “See, Professor, I have a few good friends from last year’s class, and I went to their graduation parties,” Seerla began. “They all had live music. Heck, I know my mom is starting to make arrangements for mine, and some of the best acts are booked solid. So, while it seems early, plenty of seniors may be looking to book a gig.”

Professor C frowned at them. “Miss Devinsmeade, the last thing a student wants to see after escaping Wydewood is their professor singing cantadas. And the last thing I want to see is one of my students going berserk with their friends.”

“But you never know who might hire you,” Thirtyx said with a shrug. “Some of these seniors will be having their parties at councilors’ houses, or the Peace Garden… or the palace.”

Rhea would probably smack him for making that suggestion, but she wasn’t here right now.

“You grew up near Terre Mackawn, didn’t you, Professor?” Seerla continued. “I’ve heard some of the mudslide victims are having to go as far as Luquansa to find clean basking grounds. Supporting this auction may help give them their own space back.”

Thirtyx noticed the subtle shift in Professor C’s expression. Selkies could get territorial about their basking grounds, and if hers were being invaded…

“I will talk to my quartet,” she huffed at last. “But I’m not making any promises, alright.”

It was a similar story with a Dragonfolk girl named Sarlen whose father owned the most reputable amulet forge on Lamiakk—one of the few capable of making top-tier amulets for things like protection and luck. Thirtyx and Seerla managed to get her alone one evening at dinner.

“Benn told me about the amulet contracts he helped the palace negotiate with your dad over break,” Thirtyx said. “It sounds like the king is really pleased with your family’s work.”

Sarlen blushed deeper than Thirtyx thought a cold-blooded Dragonfolk could blush. “My… my dad is really proud of that partnership,” she said. Thirtyx knew that, of course. Seerla and Dain had cobbled together enough gossip to suggest that sourcing amulets for the royal military was the best thing to happen to their forge in decades, potentially even pulling them off the verge of bankruptcy. Perhaps they’d do anything to keep the king’s favor.

“As he should be,” Seerla chimed in. “Even in Corcoroll, where I grew up, your family has an incredible reputation. You know, an amulet of that caliber could draw a lot of coin for Terre Mackawn. I’m sure word of your generosity would travel fast.”

“I don’t know…” Sarlen picked at her fingernails. “The type of amulet you’re looking for is pretty expensive to make, and it takes a lot of time.”

Thirtyx nodded. “Of course. Sorry, we didn’t want to pressure you. I just know how much the Service Club means to Rhea. Having a solid first event will relieve so much of her stress, y’know, with studying for Comps, and helping Grimmary with diplomacy decisions, and dealing with what’s going on at the palace.”

Thirtyx could practically see Sarlen’s train of thought play out on her face, just the way he’d planned it. He saw the subtle widening of her eyes as the comment about diplomacy decisions hit home. If Rhea was in Grimmary’s ear in matters of diplomacy, earning her favor was just as crucial as earning the king’s. “Hmm,” Sarlen mused, trying but failing to suppress a smirk. “Alright, I’ll talk to my dad. See if he has anything that can get here in time.”

The night before the auction, they met to consolidate their offerings and talk through the program. Thirtyx, probably more than anyone, marveled at the protection amulet and the concert voucher and a breathtaking painting of the lake near Nephrie’s home—all headliner items they expected to draw high prices. He couldn’t believe they’d actually pulled it off.

“This is… incredible, Mercuria,” Seerla muttered. She folded up the bit of paper she’d been reading, and Thirtyx could’ve sworn she blinked a tear from her eye. “Tell Adonna we really appreciate her help, and we’re doing our very best to get her community the support it needs.”

T.K.—who had been begrudgingly recruited as the auction caller—scratched at a spot behind his left horn. “Okay, but you don’t expect me to read that thing, do you? I agreed to help because I’ve studied enough ancient Infernal that I can talk really fast, but no one is going to take me seriously reading a sappy letter.”

“Don’t be silly.” Seerla dismissed his complaint with a wave of her hand. “We had someone else in mind to be our emcee.”