Chapter Three: The Deal

Following a hidden corridor behind the liquor cabinet, the Lame Man crept forward with utmost care, not making the slightest sound. He slipped past heaps of rum and spirits casks, climbed over two large crates stuffed with smuggled tobacco and sugar, and finally reached a stone wall at the end of the passage. In the pitch darkness, the only light came from a slim crack in the wall. Pressing himself against the stone, the Lame Man brought his eye to the line of light and peered through—it revealed a small, comfortably furnished room on the other side.

The gentle glow of more than a dozen white candles illuminated the cozy chamber. A circle of large armchairs draped with animal pelts ringed the room, and Lin Qi sat in one of them, wearing a grin so irksome it made one want to punch him square in the face, swigging liquor with great gusto.

The Lame Man’s pupils shrank to pinpoints. He recognized the bronze flask in Lin Qi’s hand; it was one of the few bottles of century-old rum left in the entire shop. Such vintage, priceless spirits were legendary at the Lame Man’s tavern—more myth than commodity. “That damned brat, how did he get his hands on such a treasure?” he muttered, trembling with anger. But then his gaze swept past Lin Qi and landed on Enzo, who stood not far away, upright and sharp as a drawn sword. The Lame Man’s mouth twisted in resignation, and he shook his head helplessly.

He pressed a hidden spot on the stone wall, which slid aside in silence. With a dazzling smile, the Lame Man stepped out into the room. “Hey there! My most beloved young friend, what good things have you brought me today?” he asked, rubbing his hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm. He deliberately avoided looking at Lin Qi, focusing his greedy eyes instead on the bundle tucked under Enzo’s arm. He knew Lin Qi’s nature well; the boy would never set foot in the Lame Man’s shop unless there was serious profit to be made, and at such a young age, he was already shrewder than most old hands in the underworld.

‘A promising whelp indeed—his father truly has an extraordinary son,’ the Lame Man thought to himself.

As the Lame Man entered, Lin Qi gave the bottle a vigorous shake, draining the last dregs into his mouth. He exhaled a satisfied breath of alcohol, then tossed the bottle carelessly to the ground with a crash that made the Lame Man’s heart ache. Burping contentedly, Lin Qi clapped his hands and called out, “Dear Uncle Lame, every time I see you, it feels as though I’m gazing at a flock of golden roosters and a flight of silver larks. You’ll give me a fair price, won’t you?”

The Lame Man glared at the rolling bronze bottle, then slowly fished out a gold coin and a silver coin from his belt. The Seventh Empire’s currency now bore the face of Saint Louis XIII on one side, and a proud rooster on the reverse. Everyone in the trade called gold coins “Cock-a-doodles.” The latest silver coins depicted a lark in flight on the back and were nicknamed “Chirpers.”

With a show of nonchalance, the Lame Man tossed the coins onto the room’s only small square table. He lifted his head and grinned. “Uncle Lame has plenty of charming little roosters and larks here. As long as my dear young friend can offer something to catch my fancy, price is no object.”

Lin Qi burped, while Enzo stepped silently forward and dropped the bundle heavily on the table. The Lame Man deftly unwrapped it, revealing six rapiers slick with rustproof oil. Their hilts fit neatly in the palm, the blades stretched four feet long—slender, etched with even, cloud-like patterns, clearly the mark of excellent steel. The tips gleamed with a mesmerizing blue hue, exuding a deadly chill that made one avert their gaze.

“My, my, what exquisite treasures!” The Lame Man’s eyes shone. He leapt to the table, caressing the six blades with the tender touch of a seasoned rogue admiring a peerless beauty. His fingertips trembled as he traced the intricate patterns: the steel was dense, resilient—a blade of the highest order.

He snatched one up, flicking his wrist. Instantly, the candlelight dimmed. A hissing, serpentine sound slithered through the air as several flashes of icy light—too quick for the naked eye—sliced through the atmosphere and struck a suit of armor standing in the corner.

The armor was made mostly of thick oxhide, with palm-sized steel plates at key points. Under the force of the Lame Man’s thrust, the leather shredded like paper, and the finger-thick steel plates at the chest and underarm gave a shrill groan as the rapier’s point pierced them.

The candlelight flickered again as the Lame Man retrieved the sword and examined it closely. Only a few hair-thin scratches marred the blade; it was otherwise unscathed. He clicked his tongue in admiration—he’d paid dearly for that suit of armor, which he’d acquired from the Imperial Army’s supply depot. Only mid-ranking officers could wear such finely crafted wargear.

Yet before these rapiers, even armor fit for an officer was useless. Their penetrating power was truly astonishing.

Seeing the Lame Man’s test, Lin Qi burst into hearty laughter, hands rubbing together in excitement as visions of gold and silver coins danced before his eyes. He said to Enzo, “Didn’t I say so? This batch was bound to please Uncle Lame. Didn’t I, Uncle? We went through quite a bit to get these out of the Military Academy’s storehouse!”

The Lame Man snorted, cautiously placing the sword back on the table and narrowing his eyes at the six blades in silence.

Lin Qi raised an eyebrow, hands vanishing into his sleeves. Enzo, without a word, let his hand rest at his waist, where a hidden pocket concealed a sword identical to those on the table. Measuring the distance between himself and the Lame Man, Enzo was confident he could pierce the man’s throat in a single strike.

The candle flames in the room quivered faintly—something was moving, stirring the air. The hairs on the back of the Lame Man’s neck stood on end, as though he were a frog under the gaze of a viper; goosebumps erupted across his skin.

After a moment’s contemplation, the Lame Man sneered and shook his head. “The Military Academy’s storehouse, you say? Since when do such fine weapons end up there? Hell, these rapiers can pierce a palm’s thickness of homogeneous steel—anyone with serious money would kill for them. But I want the truth: where did you really get them?”

Enzo’s grip tightened on his sword, his cold, sharp gaze locked on the Lame Man’s throat.

Lin Qi crossed his legs with careless ease and replied with a grin, “Does their origin matter? They won’t be staying with you for long, anyway.”

The Lame Man frowned, pondering for a moment. Suddenly, he chuckled and shook his head. With a show of generosity, he drew a greasy purse from his breast, grabbed a fistful of gold coins, and scattered them onto the table.

Lin Qi’s eyes sparkled golden. With a jubilant cry, he dove for the money.