Chapter 5 - One’s Worth

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A parent's praise is a drug to children, and I was never addicted.

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A crescent moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting a gentle glow across the slumbering landscape. Silently, it traced the heavens, dancing its eternal duet. Yet the performance neared its conclusion, for the distant horizon heralded the arrival of morning. The first strokes of a rising sun painted the sky in tender hues, chasing the retreating shadows of night.

Beneath the shifting canvas, a pair of boots tread lightly upon the earth. Punched for laces but devoid of them, the boots embraced their owner's feet with a snugness that rendered strings unneeded. Securely fitted, they accompanied her in her aimless journey under the waning moon.

The boots' owner rubbed her bare hands together, burrowing deeper into her coat, a futile attempt to stave off the cold's insidious embrace. Attire that had once sufficed in a warmer clime now lay threadbare against the shivering dawn of a foreign land.

A weary yawn slipped past the girl's lips, her breath forming ephemeral clouds that waltzed before dissipating into the chilled air. With no particular destination in mind, she had chosen a vague path to march. Now, as the morning light began to filter through the awakening streets, she couldn't help but rue her decision to forsake sleep. Yet her determination held firm, for the thought of waking up to an empty abode was one she did not relish.

If a touch of tiredness was the price to pay, she would willingly bear the burden.

She continued along the cobbled pavement, her gaze drifting from one architectural feat to the next as a means of whiling away the time. Each was an echo of familiar designs, yet these structures loomed far grander than anything she had encountered in her homeland. Towering and imposing, the buildings stood as proud testaments to the prosperity and power of this city. She could sense the bricks pulsing with runes of fortitude. The roofs, steeply sloped, seemed to ascend in a hierarchy of prestige.

The morning streets already teemed with activity, befitting the vibrant spirit of a free city, its people so distant from troubles that plagued mankind. Market stalls stretched along the thoroughfare, their shopkeepers diligently preparing for the day's trade. Cooks tended to sizzling griddles, the enticing aroma of their creations wafting through the air, while others rattled their novelty souvenirs, seeking to lure the attention of eager tourists. Merchants bellowed their sales pitches to passersby, each hoping to outdo the others in volume and charisma.

Amidst the cacophony, the girl's ears pricked, picking out snippets of conversation that floated on the breeze: "Baked bread for two gild!", "A shipment of salted fish!", "Fine-quality furs!", and countless other enticements. Undeterred by the clamour, she maintained a steady pace, her boots tapping against the symphony of commerce around her.

The frigid air nipped at her skin, tempting her to pause and purchase a scarf or gloves to fend off the cold. However, with the cloak of night nearly lifted and no intention to linger in this foreign land, such purchases were fleeting indulgences that would only burden her journey homeward.

Dwindling funds weighed heavily on her mind, and the satchel slung haphazardly over her shoulder felt disconcertingly light. Though it had never bulged with gild, she had laboured to ensure there was enough for the journey. Distracting herself from monetary woes, she followed the bend in the street, and she found herself at the edge of a small square.

Beneath her feet, carefully arranged tiles seemed to converge upon a singular point, flanked by buildings whose very design appeared to guide the onlooker's gaze toward the heart of the space. Dominating the square, an imposing feature soared skyward, its spire commanding attention and drawing her eyes to its apex.

Her gaze became fixed upon the fountain's elaborate spire, crowned with golden statues of human figures gazing upward. Water flowed gracefully from their outstretched palms, cascading into the basin below like liquid silk. At its marble base, intricate lettering traced a mantra she had encountered countless times within the sanctuary of her library.

The words felt foreign as they danced across her lips, a silent verse that echoed a lost era.

The gleam of adventure in the girl's eyes dimmed, usurped by a blend of trepidation and self-reproach. Yet, even amidst these emotions, an irresistible urge propelled her toward the fountain. It lured her closer, as if an ephemeral voice whispered in her ear, coaxing her onward. She sensed the statues' watchful eyes tracking her every step from the periphery of the square to its very centre, scrutinising her intently.

A subtle disquiet gnawed at her soul, and by the time she reached the fountain's base, her gaze had descended to the water below. As she stood before the fountain, her eyes lingered on the water's surface. Despite the cascading streams above, the surface remained flat. Not a single ripple marred its serenity, and even the splashes seemed to fall silent, quelled by an invisible hand.

Juliana bristled with quiet envy at the ostentatious display of magic. Enchantments that manipulated sound or conjured illusions were typically reserved for military applications, or so she believed. She could never entirely trust her judgement when it came to magical phenomena.

The statues above exuded pride, elegance, and dignity, but the visage reflected in the water bore none of these qualities. There, a young brunette girl's reflection gazed back, her features plain yet somehow arresting. Unkempt wisps of chestnut hair framed her face, with shadows of exhaustion etched beneath her eyes. A small scowl tugged at the corners of her mouth as she inspected her appearance. 

Her hand quivered ever so slightly as she reached to touch the water's surface, longing to banish the reflection that confronted her. Sweeping her hand from side to side, she found the water unyielding, obstinate in its perfection. It was as if the liquid hadn't even noticed that it had been touched in the first place.

Reluctantly, Juliana withdrew her hand from the basin, wiping away the remnants of water that clung to her skin like stubborn memories.

A hushed silence enveloped the air, and only then did Juliana grasp the appearance of her actions in the eyes of onlookers. A girl seemingly attempting to desecrate a revered monument by waving her hands wildly within its waters.

A crimson blush cascaded over her face as anxiety descended upon her. After a moment's consideration, she awkwardly perched herself on the edge of the fountain's basin, striving to make her action appear as natural as possible. Unfortunately, the realisation struck her belatedly that sitting upon the sacred monument was no better than her previous transgression.

She recoiled from the curious gazes of passersby, their attentions piqued by her peculiar behaviour. Desperate to shield herself from their scrutiny, she pulled her cloak's hood over her head. She failed to recognize, however, that adopting the persona of a hooded enigma only exacerbated her situation.

Indeed, she found herself ensnared in a veritable quandary. She contemplated simply running away, but such an act would only appear more unnatural, as if she were fleeing the scene—undeniably incriminating!

Defeated by an unseen force that seemed to render each decision progressively worse, the girl conceded. Had her reflection truly incited such panic? She opted to feign an air of contemplation (as convincingly as a hooded figure could), praying that none would dare approach her.

She had practice with it anyway—making herself unnoticeable was a necessary craft she had honed throughout her years. As a hooded figure, she channelled the subtleties of her craft, praying that none would dare approach her.

Juliana's eyes, though hidden beneath the shadow of her hood, flickered with feigned interest in the distant horizon, studying the ebb and flow of life around her. With each practised shift of her gaze, she painted a portrait of introspection, a silent plea for solitude.

The delicate rise and fall of her chest synchronised with the rhythm of her breathing, a serene ballet of tranquillity. Her fingers, though chilled by the morning air, danced a silent waltz, tracing the contours of her chin, occasionally brushing against her lips, as if to punctuate her musings.

And as she sat there, a mysterious figure cloaked in the guise of contemplation, the world around her continued to stir. Yet, her ruse seemed to work; the passersby, their curiosity seemingly abated, resumed their daily routines, leaving her to her thoughts.

Juliana couldn't help but feel a pang of satisfaction at her performance, even as she inwardly cursed the invisible force that had driven her to such desperate measures.

However, as Juliana's heart finally began to find reprieve, fate conspired against her yet again, and someone approached her after all.

"Have you come to give thanks as well?" The voice, unexpected and near, nearly sent her tumbling backward into the fountain. She caught herself just in time, her eyes wide as they found the source of the interruption. A man stood before her, his simple garb enveloping his body, its oversized sleeves concealing his hands. The only adornment that caught her eye was a golden pendant encircling his neck, a symbol familiar to any human.

"A-Ah, priest!" Juliana sprang to her feet, her head bowing in deference.

The priest's visage softened, yielding to a gentle smile as he sought to assuage the disconcerted girl. "No need to stand on ceremony," he chuckled, gesturing toward the statues. "I am sure they do not mind sparing a seat for a weary one."

"Of course—of course!" Juliana stammered, racking her mind to recall the priest's query. "And yes! I, umm, I was here to give thanks."

Guilt gnawed at her, the lie leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. She had little choice, however, and she did not savour the thought of deceiving a man of the cloth, even if it was an innocent deception. Juliana was acutely aware of the suspicion her appearance might elicit, but the priest, with his kind eyes and gentle demeanour, seemed not to notice her unease.

"Ah, good! Commencing your day so early, and with such fervour at that! I commend your dedication; my heart swells with pride, knowing that future generations shall persist in honouring the principles bestowed by our esteemed founders."

"T-Thank you," Juliana replied hesitantly, an unsettling suspicion of mockery lingering in her thoughts. She knew that she didn't embody the ideals he extolled in the slightest.

The priest held his peace, his eyes fixed expectantly upon her. It dawned on Juliana that she was to move forward with her prayer.

"Erm," she pivoted toward the fountain, uncertainty lacing her voice. Delving into her satchel, she rummaged through its contents before producing five gleaming coins. Seeking the priest's sanction, her heart sank as she beheld his goading visage.

His expression seemed to implore: 'Surely you could spare more?'

Disguising her grimace with a feeble smile, Juliana turned back to the fountain and resumed her search through the satchel. Her spirits plummeted as she extracted coin after coin.

Cradled in her hands, a total of ten gild shimmered in the morning light.

The priest's approving nod greeted her generous offering. A knot of unease formed in her stomach; was this retribution for her deception? Was she truly sacrificing a week's worth of her budget merely to maintain this façade for the priest? Even if the gods did heed her prayer, divine intervention would be futile if the beneficiary perished from hunger!

Gripping her fists, the polished contours of the coins pressed into her tender flesh. Her eyes clenched shut, and her lips drew taut. She commenced:

"B-By the grace of the founders, the grace of humanity, I entreat you, O' Founders, for a blessing," Juliana paused to swallow. "A plea—that I may… that I could…"

Her words stumbled, her entreaty left unvoiced.

"…"

Her eyes opened, and she gazed upon the fountain in silence. The priest, too, remained mute. The pair lingered in this tableau, until Juliana took a step forward.

"…P-Please accept my offering…"

She dropped the coins into the basin, observing as they crossed the mirror-like surface, tumbling into the depths; their metallic clinks reduced to a distant murmur. Again, the water did not react, remaining perfectly still.

Juliana felt the burden of failure bearing down upon her chest.

Clearing his throat, the priest's voice emerged like a soothing balm. "That was a fine prayer." His tone was gentle. "You know how to address our founders with due reverence, yet I sensed a hint of inexperience… A foreigner? No. The human nations all share our customs," the priest declared. "Whence do you hail, young lady?"

"Um…" Juliana wavered at the priest's inquiry.

She nudged her satchel over her shoulder, drawing it to her front. Unfastening its button, she lifted the flap, revealing delicate embroidery. The priest's eyes gleamed as they recognized the emblem, fashioned with threads of silver.

"Ah, that elucidates the matter! A branch family… My sincere apologies for my hasty judgement; requesting that you seek out your forebears must have been a peculiar experience for one of your lineage. Divinity has no need to pray, for they are blessed with their own miracles!"

"No, I—I'm actually…" Juliana's words faded, unable to locate the appropriate language.

"Do not trouble yourself, my lady," the priest said. "The error was mine. Your unassuming visage is most deceptive, an exemplary disguise!" He chuckled softly. "It appears our heroes desire to test my humility today. A welcome challenge, I say!"

Juliana's countenance contorted in response to the priest's unreserved praise; it felt dishonest to accept even a single word of it.

"My lady, there is no need for embarrassment; we are accustomed to welcoming guests of your stature. While our modest city has grown busier, I surmise you're here for the exhibition, are you not? I shall personally ensure your well-being and alleviate your concerns if that is indeed the case."

'Exhibition?'

Juliana's ears perked up. "Is that—ah, yes! I was going! I was…" she glanced at the fountain, then back at the priest. "I don't have an invitation…"

"You don't? That cannot be accurate." The priest shook his head. "The organisers, however preoccupied, have some explaining to do. Nonetheless, I cannot shake the feeling that our encounter was destined, my lady! We've had many visitors; many pilgrims! You are more than worthy of attending this grand event!"

The priest extended his arm toward the girl.

"As this free city's humble servant, it is my honour to invite you," he said. "To atone for my presumptuous error, I will ensure the Grand Exhibition welcomes my lady with open arms!"

Juliana's eyes wavered as she considered the priest's outstretched hand—a gesture both enticing and intimidating at the same time

She did not deliberate for long.

The prospect before her shimmered like a mirage, tantalising and elusive. An offer to step out from the shadows cast by her lineage and emerge into the light of recognition. Her parents, who had sent her to this distant land, must have harboured a purpose for doing so. Most certainly it was for this, the Grand Exhibition. If she could return home carrying a relic of her dynasty, or perhaps an ancient artefact, she might finally be embraced by the family that had kept her at arm's length for so long.

The thought of her journey's end swelled within her chest. She imagined herself standing triumphant as she clutched a symbol of her hard-won accomplishments. Her heart raced, and she felt the stirrings of hope that had long lain dormant, now wide awake.

She seized the opportunity with both hands.

"I accept!" Juliana exclaimed.

The priest beamed. "Splendid! Let us hasten, then!" He turned to face the fountain. "The first step of any journey is to set foot upon the path; and it is now my duty to see you to the Exhibition!"

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The cacophony of bids reverberated through the packed auditorium, a symphony of voices that rose and fell like the tide. 

"Thirty thousand gild, one hundred and ninety-eight!" 

"Thirty thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine!" 

Juliana, nestled among the crowd, watched the fervent bidders with a mounting sense of trepidation. They were not haggling over the exhibits on display, but rather, the very seats they occupied. As the bids escalated, they descended into a frenzy, snatching at cushions, armrests, and footstools, each trying to wear down the resolve of their competitors. The more plush their perches, the more likely they would endure the relentless battle for status and prestige.

The closer one sat to the front, the more keenly one could scrutinise the items up for bid and make their offers accordingly. Those relegated to the back rows found themselves at a disadvantage, forced to rely on the host's descriptions and distant glimpses of the artefacts. For someone like Juliana, who possessed only a cursory knowledge of the items set to grace the stage, this posed a challenge.

The staggering sums of gild brandished even before the main event commenced left her head reeling. Servants, burdened with bags of gold and promissory notes, darted up and down the aisles, exchanging currency for relinquished seats. The scene unfolded before her like a frenzied dance of madness.

In the midst of the chaos, Juliana found herself grateful for the priest's intervention. She could scarcely fathom how much of her life savings would have been squandered to secure her place in this opulent arena. With the benefit of hindsight, the ten gold coins she had offered to win the priest's favour had turned out to be a prudent investment indeed.

As the auction unfolded, Juliana's once-steadfast confidence ebbed away like sand through an hourglass. She had arrived, her satchel laden with one hundred gild, confident that it would be ample to secure a respectable trinket. Now, she was compelled to face the reality that she had vastly misjudged the affluence of her fellow attendees.

The event, after all, was a charity auction—a stage upon which the wealthy could flaunt their benevolence, all while reaping the benefits of tax deductions. She cast her gaze around, attempting to gauge the character of the crowd. Positioned near the rear of the hall, she found herself in the company of those adorned in relatively modest attire, save for the masquerade masks they donned alongside herself. Further down the aisle, the garments grew increasingly ostentatious, and the masks, ever more elaborate. What purpose did anonymity serve when one was cloaked in the plumage of a phoenix?

Her fingers toyed with the unpretentious mask she had been given upon her arrival. It was a simple white mask that covered the upper half of her face, but at least it offered her comfort.

"Forty thousand!"

As the prices crept ever higher, Juliana's shoulders drooped in despair. How could she hope to secure anything worthwhile? Even the most mundane of objects would be snatched up as trophies of prestige. The truth of the exhibition stood in contrast to her initial expectations, when she had envisioned a bustling market akin to those outside—a place where merchants and traders could mingle and conduct business, but with a dash of carnival-like spirit. Instead, she was confronted by the unyielding visage of commerce: a ruthless contest that pitted the extravagantly wealthy against those without.

Her satchel, once brimming with the promise of opportunity, now seemed unbearably light.

Juliana's shoulders sagged ever lower as the evening wore on, the growing throng of attendees signifying the commencement of earnest bidding. She was not alone in her despair—noble men and women nearby bore similarly despondent expressions, resigned to their own defeats.

Her mind conjured images of the treasures she might have triumphantly presented to her family—artefacts that would have elicited admiration and recognition, rather than their customary disdain. Perhaps an ancient ledger chronicling the military feats of a storied hero, or a painting capturing the founding of the very first city…

Instead, she faced the prospect of returning empty-handed, a dark cloud of shame gathering in her thoughts—shame for having let down the benevolent priest, and shame for having foolishly believed she could be acknowledged as one of their own.

As the evening advanced, the air grew thick with tension; the final item of the day's itinerary was unveiled, and bidders vied for the distinction of placing the day's concluding bid. How much more were they prepared to part with?

An unsettling curiosity stirred within her, an eagerness to witness the limits of extravagance. A dazzling gemstone was paraded onto the stage, nestled atop a gleaming platter and encased in glass. As large as a fist, its sparkling exterior was visible even from the auditorium's farthest reaches. The host delivered his customary spiel, regaling the crowd with tales of the gemstone's origin and past owners. From what she could discern, it seemed the gem would serve little purpose beyond that of a decorative showpiece. Nevertheless, it would likely fetch a staggering twenty—or perhaps even thirty—thousand gild.

"Bidding begins at two hundred thousand gild!"

Juliana nearly choked, her eye twitching involuntarily as the astronomical starting price reverberated through the hall, and the audience hummed with excitement.

Her shock did not fade as the gemstone's value reached a value of one million. The crowd erupted in exhilaration as the magic figure was breached, their cheers cascading like a wave crashing upon the shore. Energised by this threshold's crossing, the bidding swelled anew, transforming into a spectacle in its own right, with the gemstone's true worth all but forgotten amidst the intoxicating escalation of figures.

Despite her best efforts, Juliana found herself grappling with envy. The vast wealth and power wielded by those around her seemed to render their participation in the auction unnecessary—they had no need to prove themselves further. Yet their vanity drove them onward, and Juliana's jealousy mounted with each successive bid.

Her gaze drifted toward the rival bidders near the front, their silhouettes brimming with excitement and avarice. She pondered whether it was as exciting as it appeared—to squander such a fortune on what amounted to little more than a lustrous stone.

Straining to discern some inherent beauty in the gemstone that might justify its price, she focused intently on the radiant rock. Yet all she could perceive was a gilded paperweight, undeserving of the adulation it attracted. A mere bauble had become the epicentre of desire, as generational wealth was laid down in a high-stakes bid for prestige and recognition.

As Juliana pondered the ease with which the host's honeyed words had clouded the bidders' judgements, the gavel's sharp crack jolted her from her introspection.

"Sold for five million! To the gentleman in the front row, number sixteen!"

The host gestured toward a man seated in the front row, his servant raising a numbered paddle on his behalf. She scarcely considered that the noble had thought to reserve a seat not only for himself but also for his servant. Instead, her focus remained riveted on the staggering sum just declared.

Five million? Was it really just a mere stone?

In that singular moment, the ostentatious, weighty ornament had transformed into the most exquisite gem the world had ever seen, coveted by every onlooker in the room. Juliana was loath to accept that the notion of value could be so fickle, so fluid. Her grip tightened around her satchel. Could her humble one hundred gild ever purchase more than its face value? The answer eluded her. It appeared that value was still an elusive, ever-changing spectre. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? The first day of our grand auction has drawn to a close, and I am honoured to have served as your host this evening. I extend my heartfelt congratulations to all of today's victors. Your generous contributions today will support numerous humanitarian endeavours across the continent. For transactions and collections, a dedicated team awaits to assist you in the lobby. We eagerly anticipate your return for the second day of the Grand Exhibition. But wait—what's this?"

Juliana's gaze followed a lone staff member as he shuffled onto the stage, attempting to draw as little attention as possible. Unfortunately, the stage's bright illumination rendered such a goal unattainable. He hastily handed the host a sturdy clipboard, murmuring something in his ear before vanishing as un-stealthily as he'd arrived. The host's eyes widened as he scanned the note before summoning others to join him.

The stage erupted into a flurry of activity as staff members carefully removed the gemstone from its pedestal, leaving a void in the spotlight. Juliana wasn't alone in sensing the palpable shift in the atmosphere; the entire hall fell silent, a blend of confusion and anticipation rippling through the crowd.

The host cleared his throat with a dramatic flourish.

"Ahem, I have just been apprised of an unexpected addition to our list—a last-minute item!"

A last-minute item? Juliana's brow furrowed in response to the news. She'd been eagerly looking forward to her escape from the stifling hall after remaining immobile for hours. All she wanted was to stretch her legs and perhaps find a modestly priced snack to sate her hunger.

"Now, I regret to inform that we possess little information on this mysterious piece. However, why, look here! The anonymous donor has provided a reserve price! To the discerning amongst you, this should shed some light on its value!"

Another ruse, that was it.

Despite her parents' belief that they could shroud her in perpetual ignorance, she had managed to catch glimpses of the meetings held within the manor. If there was one truth she had learned about the aristocracy, it was their penchant for pageantry, and the host seemed keenly aware of this tendency. Those who had failed to secure the coveted gemstone yearned to emerge victorious from this unforeseen opportunity—a battle of egos, fueled by this 'surprise.'

"Let's see… bidding shall begin at…"

Juliana shook her head; she had no intention of staying around if prices continued to climb. Her budget consisted of a hundred gild… a mere hundred gild. Only a day prior, she would have proudly regarded it as her 'life savings,' a stash painstakingly collected under the watchful eyes of her kin.

The young girl braced herself to rise velvet-bound seat, poised to take her leave when—

"O-One… One gild."

—She froze.

'What?'

Juliana's eyes darted to the stage, her brow furrowed in bewilderment. Had she heard correctly? One gild? From such a distance, hearing the words clearly was a challenge.

"One gild, he says?!" A voice from the crowd rang out, incredulous.

A sudden hush blanketed the room.

Juliana quickly reseated herself.

"W-Well, isn't this a delightful surprise! Tonight has been full of surprises, don't you agree?"

The host strove to placate the audience as a flicker of hope ignited within Juliana's chest. She surveyed the crowd around and ahead, noting their indignant expressions. The item's starting price was an insult, apparently.

"Bidding begins at a mere one gild!"

Juliana scarcely paused to consider the implications. What did it matter if the opening bid was low? At last, she had an opportunity to bid for something!

Her eyes sparkled as the host's attempts at appeasing the crowd appeared to falter. With each grumble of discontent, her odds improved—one less contender to face.

"N-Now then, what might this mysterious item be? Even I am at a loss to guess."

To Juliana, the nature of the object was irrelevant. It could have been an ordinary stone, and it would serve the same purpose as that gemstone: a decorative piece to grace the hallway dresser. As long as she could secure something—anything from the Grand Exhibition—it would demonstrate her worth.

Yet she brushed aside such thoughts. It was preposterous to assume they would present a mundane item like a rock. If it had made its way here, it had to hold some inherent value!

"Don't keep us waiting; bring it out!" The host snapped his fingers with impatience.

Slowly, the crimson curtains were drawn aside, and quiet descended upon the audience. At first, only a small fragment revealed itself through the gap. Juliana discerned the shimmering gleam of a metal cage, similar to those that had made frequent appearances throughout the day.

'The mystery item was a slave?'

As more of the cage came into view, the whispers swelled into a cacophony of agitated voices. A harsh spotlight bathed the enclosure in a merciless glow, unveiling…

'...A demihuman?'

The creature was a pitiful sight; even from her distant vantage point, Juliana could perceive its miserable state. Matted, oily black hair; frail, emaciated limbs. Its expression displayed a disconcerting amalgam of delirium and terror. The being was completely different to the well-groomed, orderly slaves she had observed on the auction block earlier.

"…Kugh. W-What is the meaning of this—?" The host couldn't help but echo the thoughts of the audience.

Juliana's hand remained still, her auction paddle rested flat on her lap. She did not raise it.

For she did not want it.

The demihuman was sickly, seemingly on the brink of death. Were slaves not destined to lighten their masters' load, to be a point of prestige? What she saw was an undeniable burden. How could that thing help her closer to what she wanted? It was probably feral, one that had wandered into a cage by accident.

"Ahhh—! Who dares to bring such a wretched creature to this sanctified gathering?! Intolerable! Shameful!"

Juliana studied the imprisoned creature as the host chastised it. Every soul in the room had their gaze affixed upon it. And every soul in the room concurred with her sentiment.

One gild was too high a price for the demihuman.

But then, unlike the others, her thoughts stalled. Did those words not bear a striking resemblance to another?

Five million gild was too high a price for a mere rock.

"…"

'Strange', the girl paused. 'Was this not a similar circumstance?'

Value. Influenced solely by the emotions of those who desired to possess it. Just as someone deemed the rock worth five million, surely one here would value the demihuman at a single gild…

"Please, please! If you will all please settle down! Rest assured, this incident will be thoroughly investigated!"

…None did.

Juliana's lips pressed together as she deliberated. Her mind was ill-equipped for such calculations.

She longed to return home.

To her sanctuary, her library.

And yet…

Her family's disdained faces resurfaced, along with those painful memories. If she returned empty-handed, nothing would change. To them, was she any different from this demihuman? Not a point of prestige, a burden. Someone worth less than a gild.

"Handlers, remove it! Remove it at once!"

If she shared a likeness with the one on stage...

The girl's hand ascended.

"O-One gild for the black cat."

Juliana hoped she merited at least that much.