Chapter Forty-Six: Lavish Gifts and Bribes

Early the next morning, Lin Qi, brimming with energy and vigor, burst into Enzo’s room and stuffed a large armful of snow into his bed. Enzo, still suffering from a hangover, let out a wretched howl and scrambled out of his blankets in utter disarray.

Thanks to Lin Qi’s antics, Enzo was immediately wide awake. He hastily washed up and changed into a fresh set of clothes, then enjoyed a hearty, robust breakfast that left him burping with satisfaction. Chewing a mixture of betel and tobacco, he followed behind Lin Qi and his father. Surrounded by more than a dozen guards, the group set out in high spirits, traveling in carriages and on horseback, making a grand procession down the slopes of Black Beech Mountain.

All the prominent families of Dunkirk resided near the Black Beech Hill, with the sole exception being Mayor Milo and his family, who lived in the mansion attached to the town hall. As the supreme authority in Dunkirk Port, Baron Milo was a complete outsider—his family hailed from elsewhere. Even though he had served as mayor for ten years, Baron Milo had never purchased any property in Dunkirk.

Seated in the spacious, luxurious carriage, Blackbeard puffed on a large cigar as he spoke in his deep, booming voice, introducing Baron Milo’s character to Lin Qi.

The reason Baron Milo never acquired property in Dunkirk was not because of any sterling integrity; on the contrary, he was exceptionally greedy. However, he deliberately cultivated an image of incorruptible virtue and had always lived in the official mayoral residence provided by the Empire, free of charge.

Yet, according to Blackbeard’s sources, Baron Milo had acquired vast lands back in his hometown—Blackstone City, less than three hundred miles from Dunkirk. There, he had purchased seven fertile estates and, within the last decade alone, had bought nearly a hundred maids.

“The man is old! Seventy years of age—time he retired and enjoyed his twilight years!” Blackbeard waved his foot-long cigar, blowing smoke as he proclaimed, “Honestly, if he doesn’t retire soon, then he, or his son, or his daughter, or his wife—sooner or later, one of them will have an accident with a runaway carriage horse!”

“He must retire!” Blackbeard squinted and snorted coldly. “He’s profited plenty over the years. It’s time for him to step down. How can we expect a seventy-year-old to do anything for Dunkirk? On the other hand, if I become mayor, Dunkirk will flourish, the economy will soar, and everyone will make money.”

Lin Qi immediately interjected, “Of course, but first, our family must make money!”

Blackbeard nodded with satisfaction, beaming at Lin Qi. “Well said. That’s the only way it can be. If our family can’t make money, then no one in Dunkirk will!”

He took a hearty bite of his cigar and mumbled, “Right now, I’m merely the president of the guild for mill and inn owners, but once I become mayor, I’ll head the United Merchants’ Guild of Dunkirk! Then, just wait and see.”

Father and son discussed at length how to amass wealth once they held the mayor’s office and presided over the merchants’ guild. Meanwhile, the carriage arrived at the town hall in Dunkirk’s city center. Two weary guards in azure uniforms stood listlessly at the entrance, but upon seeing the carriage and its escort, they quickly leveled their spears to block the way.

Blackbeard angrily drew back the curtain, thrust his bearded face out the window, and snorted at the guards.

The guards, previously lethargic, immediately broke into wide smiles, bowing deeply to the carriage and courteously stepping aside. Who in Dunkirk didn’t know Old Blackbeard? He was the leading contender for the next mayoral election, and virtually no one in Dunkirk could challenge his influence.

Dunkirk was a port city—the Empire’s third largest, and the only ice-free harbor in the north during winter. It was the most important distribution center for goods in the northern Empire and indeed the continent’s north. Among sailors and dockworkers, Old Blackbeard was held in the highest esteem; he was the uncrowned king, able to determine the entire port’s labor situation with a single word. Who but a fool would dare oppose such a man in the mayoral race?

“The only problem now is whether that old vampire Milo will submit my name.”

Blackbeard furrowed his brow, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and sighed. “Our family has no allies in the Imperial Capital—that’s a real headache. If we could secure a recommendation from old Milo, we’d be as good as certain.”

The carriage stopped before the mayoral residence. Two attendants, dressed in spotless uniforms and gray-white wigs, with the affected airs of royal servants, approached with measured steps and, with elaborate ceremony, opened the carriage door.

Blackbeard, exhaling thick smoke, swung his massive frame down from the carriage. Lin Qi clapped Enzo on the shoulder, and the two followed suit. Behind them, Slaughter leapt from his horse, and with his team, opened the rear compartment and began unloading their cargo.

There were tightly wrapped packages of spices and teas from the East—each one valuable. The bolts of silk and brocade were even more precious; a fine piece of jacquard brocade could fetch thousands of gold coins in times of scarcity in the capital. Most eye-catching of all was a set personally carried by Slaughter: two hundred and forty pieces—soup bowls, rice bowls, plates, spoons—all of secret-glaze porcelain, blue as the sky with delicate, rain-like transparent speckles.

Such a set was a rare treasure in the capital, enough to barter for a prime vineyard of over a hundred acres from a wealthy noble. Its value could not be measured in gold; to assess this work of Eastern artistry in mere coin would be an insult.

The attendants, connoisseurs themselves, had their eyes widened by the spices, teas, and silks, but it was the exposed set of secret-glaze porcelain that made their breathing quicken. Their demeanor became even more deferential—toward Blackbeard and Lin Qi, they now bowed as if before a king.

A hearty, affected laughter echoed from afar as an elderly man, stooped and robed in plain black without a single adornment, strode out to greet them. His eyes darted swiftly over the gifts, and a sudden flush of color bloomed across his gaunt, sallow face.

“Honored Mr. Tiger, you are too generous! May the gods bless you—your wishes will surely come true!” Baron Milo, thin and withered, laughed with delight.

Blackbeard’s laughter grew even more boisterous. He muttered under his breath, “If my wishes don’t come true, your whole family will feed the sharks!”

With a grunt, Blackbeard spread his arms wide, laughing heartily as he strode forward to greet Baron Milo.