The auction hall was full of 'em; wealthy fellows, most of them raised to that status thanks to their pioneering some technological feature, or starting up one of the big trade consortiums. There were a few more traditional nobles too, of course, living off their amassed fortunes or the sheer power of their estates. They were mostly silver tongued, well read fellows. Most had a mind for science, or trade, or both, and all of them knew how to act on the social and political circuit. Of course they also all had a comandeering want for slaves.<br/><br/>One of these bidders was a young, slick fellow that comfortably fulfilled the tropes above. His father had invented a rather special kind of coil which was still in use, and since his death had been earning the young man a fortune from those wanting to use his patents. He continued to invent and develop when he had the time, but truthfully he was more suited to wheeling and dealing himself into a position where he didn't -have- to work... His tactics saw him getting into the confidences of other successful fellows, and leeching or stealing their successes to further advance himself. The ambitious man, like most here, had no limit on what they wanted to achieve... He wanted -everything-, and would do -anything- to get it.<br/><br/>His name was Quentin Aritas, a common name for someone who a few generations prior -had- been little more than a common watchmaker. He was sharply dressed in a pinstripe suit and a neat bowler hat adorned his head, hiding thick black hair that he kept neatly groomed. His face was handsome, chiselled and powerful looking, and beneath that he had a toned body. All in all he had the looks and confidence to make the perfect man-about-town type that was quickly rearing their sharply-neatened heads around the city.<br/><br/>His eyes fell to Zoey, and briefly there was a twinge in the corner of his eye. He recognised that girl... She was... she was... Oh drat, he'd forgotten. But there was something in her eye... Maybe he knew her mother? She was certainly a little more special than most of the girls here. Pretty, too, which would certainly help... But it was the noble spirit in her that he yearned the most. He wanted to see it crushed, to see how far a proverbial queen could fall.<br/><br/>His hand waved, and the auctioneer pointed him out. Again and again he bid, outdoing the competition by simply wafting money at the auctionhouse until his competitors went away and there was the loud crack of a falling hammer, and a booming voice announcing "Sold! To the man in the bowler hat, number 472. Our next lot is..."<br/><br/>He stopped paying attention, having earned his prize already. One hand pushed forward as he carved through the crowd toward the collection area. At the same time Zoey was finding herself shuffled along and off the stage, toward where the duo were apparently destined to meet.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>