Chapter Fifteen: The Generous Grang

The perceptive Mr. Grond noticed the subtle look Lin Qi cast his way. Feigning nonchalance, he straightened his back and deliberately pushed out his belly. With this covert gesture, Mr. Grond was warning Lin Qi—whatever you may suspect, it is unfounded; the esteemed Lord Grond remains as vigorous and manly as ever.

Yet, despite himself, Mr. Grond’s gaze was drawn to the small crystal vial cradled in Lin Qi’s palm. He knew exactly which visiting professor Lin Qi served. Master Alchemist Kocha was a figure the Empire had gone to great lengths to recruit. Kocha’s most famous feat was performed ten years ago in the royal hunting grounds of a western kingdom, where he used a restorative elixir to save a king whose innards had been ravaged by a magical beast.

A decade had passed, and that king—whose liver had once been torn to shreds—yet lived, hale and brimming with energy, presiding over the affairs of his realm.

With such miraculous abilities, it was possible that the small vial in Lin Qi’s hand truly came from the legendary Master Kocha—a wondrous elixir distilled from the arcane herbs of the East. The very thought was tantalizing.

Polishing his nose with the silver-capped head of his vine-wood cane, Mr. Grond let out a few scornful chuckles. “Master Kocha is a man of great repute, Lin Qi. Surely you wouldn’t sully his name by passing off counterfeit medicine?”

Lin Qi looked at Mr. Grond in mild surprise, shrugged, and grinned mischievously. “Did I ever claim this potion was Kocha’s handiwork?”

Mr. Grond responded with another derisive laugh and shook his head. He was certain he had seen through Lin Qi’s little ruse; the potion must come from Kocha. Given Lin Qi’s shady connections in Brayley City, where else could he possibly acquire such a remedy? The only plausible source was Kocha’s laboratory.

Lin Qi said nothing further. He walked over to Mr. Grond, withdrew a small piece of black bread from his sleeve, uncorked the vial, and let a single drop of the pale pink, viscous liquid fall onto the bread. Waiting until the bread had fully absorbed the elixir, Lin Qi gave a whistle and tossed the bread into the room, landing it squarely in front of the golden dachshund snoring by the fireplace.

The dachshund, over a foot long, slowly raised its eyelids, sniffed the black bread, hesitated for a moment, then opened its mouth and swallowed it. Mr. Grond dismissed the act with a wave of his cane. Black bread? His wife doted on the little dachshund, feeding it only oatmeal porridge and white bread—never such coarse fare.

“Rogue students will be rogues!” Mr. Grond curled his lip, regarding Lin Qi with a hint of distaste. “But University City needs such students, I suppose.”

He knew perfectly well that several delicate matters—such as having his wife’s carriage tailed or unmasking the true identity of the nobleman she had recently become entangled with—had all been handled by Lin Qi. Of course, these arrangements were always made through Father Barrin; there had never been any direct dealings between the two men.

This was Lin Qi’s first face-to-face conversation with Mr. Grond. Grond was full of disdain, but also tinged with wariness.

As Mr. Grond frowned and pondered these matters—a mere handful of heartbeats passing—the sleek little dachshund suddenly began to tremble violently. Its formerly greenish-violet eyes became bloodshot and turned a deep crimson. With a low growl, its golden fur bristled, making its slender body appear thick and robust.

But it wasn’t just the dog’s body that grew more muscular—another part of its anatomy was swelling at an astonishing rate.

In the dead of winter, it was hardly the season for cats and dogs to be in heat; rather, it was a time for them to conserve their strength for the coming year. Yet, after swallowing the bread, the little dog became brimming with energy, panting heavily, its bloodshot eyes fixed upon a cushion that had just been on Mr. Grond’s chair. With a howl, it leapt forward.

With a tiger-like bound, the dachshund landed on the chair, a strange smile curling its mouth as it clamped its limbs around the cushion made of Eastern silk and long-staple Middle Eastern cotton, thrusting its body against it with wild vigor.

Mr. Grond’s jaw dropped. He too had resorted to certain remedies in moments of weakness, but never had any produced such miraculous effects. In just a handful of breaths, the dachshund had become so fierce and vigorous?

Mr. Grond’s heart pounded; his belly grew hot. Suddenly, the image of Miss Gina, the lead dancer of the Giseh traveling troupe, flashed before his eyes—her charming face, her lithe and youthful body, supple as a leopardess.

“Oh, what a marvelous potion!” Grond folded his hands behind his back and lowered his voice. “Very well, Cadet Lin Qi, how much do you believe this bottle is worth?”

A sharp ripping sound echoed—the dachshund had already torn a hole in the cushion, sending a flurry of white cotton flying through the air.

The corners of Grond’s mouth twitched; his interest in the potion was only deepening. Such power, such potency—it brought fond memories of his own youth.

“One bottle?” Lin Qi looked astonished. “Are you joking? A whole bottle? No, no, no—this miraculous elixir is incredibly difficult to make, its ingredients exceedingly rare. In the mysterious East, only kings and nobles are privileged to enjoy it. How could it possibly be sold by the bottle?”

With a sly grin, Lin Qi addressed the dumbfounded Mr. Grond. “One gold coin per drop, dear Mr. Grond. This elixir is sold by the drop. You see, there’s a living example right here—look at your little darling, so full of vigor now.”

The poor dachshund had already shredded the cushion to bits, and now leapt eagerly onto the sofa in the corner, humping a fresh one with manic enthusiasm. Mr. Grond gazed thoughtfully at the ruined cushion, absently rubbing his chin with his cane. “A gold coin per drop—that’s a fair and reasonable price, I must admit. This miraculous potion is worth every penny!”

Squaring his shoulders, Mr. Grond said solemnly, “There must be about a hundred drops in that bottle? Cadet Lin Qi, if you’re willing to let me have it for thirty gold coins, then you—and your friends—shall receive top marks in every subject this year!”

Top marks in every subject?

Thinking of the core members of the Iron Fist Brotherhood, whose grades always hovered just above failing, Lin Qi immediately pressed the vial into Mr. Grond’s hand.

“Generous Mr. Grond, it’s yours!”

****************************

During the launch of this new book, I ask for your recommendations!

If you pass by, don’t forget to leave a vote!