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Ezra walked through the market, his footsteps unbearably loud in the quiet of night. He straightened his perfectly tailored black suit as he walked. On his face was a silver mask that reflected the light of the moon, a part of the required dress code for the night\'s auction.

He made his way to one of the semi-permanent tents set up in a corner of the market. He paused at the entrance, taking in the room. The tent was occupied with what looked like abandoned logs of wood.

"Mr. M." Elliot stepped into view. "Welcome to the market. Everything is ready as you instructed."

Ezra observed the man. He also wore a dark suit accompanied with a dark mask but to Ezra, it was as if he wasn\'t wearing a mask. Ezra knew he\'d be able to pick out the man in a sea of masked men.

"Good work, Elliot." Ezra nodded approvingly. "Lead the way."

Elliot turned, leading Ezra deep into the arrangement of wood. They exited through a back entrance and walked through the market, weaving between empty stalls. They finally got to the edge of the market where there was a concealed iron gate.

Elliot pulled it open to a concrete maze. He led Ezra through the labyrinth and before long, they were descending down a flight of stone steps.

At the bottom of the stairs was a large iron door. Elliot knocked three times in a specific pattern and the door creaked open. Ezra frowned at the \'security measures\' he was looking at. He\'d expected something more... secure.

Without a word, he entered the chamber. The room was large, its ceiling high and arched like a cathedral. Rows of chairs were arranged in a semicircle around a central platform. The walls were covered in velvet drapes, giving the room an atmosphere of grandeur.

Illuminated by the elaborate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the attendees mingled, all dressed in fine suits and evening gowns, their faces covered by their masks.

Elliot escorted Ezra to his VIP seat, positioned in an alcove set high in the wall at the back of the room. The seat was plush, upholstered in deep red fabric. Ezra settled in, taking in the room from his elevated position. He could see all that was taking place.

He observed the attendees, some with a casual air and others filled with tension. Their conversation filled the air, blending with the clinking of glasses.

Finally, the auctioneer stepped onto the podium, the tall thin man raising a gloved hand. The murmurs in the room died down and everyone took their seats.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man began, his tone both solemn and commanding. "Welcome to tonight\'s auction."

The guests clapped at his words. When the applause died down, he continued. "For you, we have a fine selection of items, each one unique and valuable in its own right. We guarantee that there is a selection that will pique your interest. But the question is, can you outbid your rivals? Let us begin."

Ezra watched as items were wheeled in, bids were made and either won or lost.

His eyebrows rose as an item was unveiled. A shipment of ghost guns. Samples were wheeled in, the weapons beautiful and deadly.

Ghost guns were custom made and untraceable to avoid any ties that could lead back to their owners. The bidding started high, voices ringing out from all corners of the chamber as masked figures vied for the item. The numbers escalated quickly, reaching an exorbitant price.

Ezra watched with interest as the shipment of ghost guns were sold to a man seated at the back. The man clinked glasses with his neighbor, knowing the resale value of the guns. Each individual gun could be sold high, netting him a tidy profit.

Several more items passed. A set of blueprints here, information on security systems there, each met with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Ezra knew he\'d have to bid on something to announce his presence. A bid to make the Necromancer take notice.

Even with the slush fund in the hands of the Necromancer, he still had money left out. He remained patient, watching the platform and waiting for something worth his while.

He blinked as the next item was announced. The painting was wheeled in, its surface dark with age but still colorful and vibrant. Anyone could see that it had been taken care of.

Ezra recognized the painting. The news had covered the story for two weeks straight when it had been stolen from the owner\'s personal collection. The painting was one of the paintings from the twenty first century that had survived, mostly intact.

The room seemed to come alive at the prospect of owning the painting. Ezra pondered whether to join the ongoing bidding war but decided not to. He wasn\'t in any state to blow his funds on old artwork, no matter how impressive it would be to own one.

He watched with detached curiosity as the price soared higher and higher. The painting was eventually claimed by a woman near the front row, her dyed hair standing out in the crowd.

Without missing a beat, the auctioneer introduced the next item. "And now, we present something truly special. A collection of sensitive corporate data from the biggest corporation in Faewall."

Ezra\'s attention sharpened instantly. Faewall? That was the Matten coven\'s next destination.

"The data being offered tonight includes trade secrets sought after by many, financial records and even unpatented intellectual property. Everything one might need to cripple the company or gain a significant advantage."

Ezra knew he had to get his hands on the data. It might come in handy later, when they get to the city. The bidding began and he could feel the tension in the room ratchet up several notches.

He leaned forward slightly, calculating his approach. The bids came quickly, each one driving the price higher, but he remained calm, biding his time. He couldn\'t jump in now.

After the bids slowed to a trickle, he made his move, his voice cutting through the din with a bid that silenced the room for a brief moment. Every head turned to see the masked man sitting in one of the VIP alcoves.

However, the silence was broken as another VIP responded to the bid, unwilling to let such a prize slip through their fingers.

Ezra kept bidding, each bid taking him closer and closer to the money he had on hand. Even with that, he stayed calm, projecting an unhurried air.

The auctioneer\'s voice grew more excited as numbers climbed, sensing the intensity of the competition. Tired off all the drama, Ezra deployed his Aura, the energy descending upon the room. He made his final bid, his tone and Aura projecting a sense of finality.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. For a few tense seconds, no one dared to counter. Then, the auctioneer\'s gavel came down with a bang.

"Sold," the auctioneer cried out with a satisfied tone, "to our distinguished guest in the VIP section!"