Chapter Forty-One: Father and Son

With a mixture of caution and even greater curiosity, Enzo followed Lin Qi into the main keep.

The keep was built in a traditional style; upon entering, one was greeted by a spacious foyer, where two steep and narrow spiral staircases curled up on either side to the second floor. To Enzo’s eye, these stairs were not mere architectural features—they were defensive measures. So steep and narrow, if just a few sword masters guarded the top, even hundreds of fully armed knights would find it difficult to storm the upper floor.

Beneath the stairs, Enzo noticed some oddly shaped metal joints and iron chains that fueled his imagination. Could there be hidden traps within the staircase? A closer look at the floor under the stairs revealed something peculiar as well. If Enzo’s guess was right, there might be a deep pit trap just below, bristling with razor-sharp metal spikes.

Beyond the foyer lay a vast banquet hall. Lined up neatly within were six long oak tables, each large enough to seat a hundred, accommodating six hundred diners in all. In the bright candlelight, the oak tables gleamed with a sheen reminiscent of black iron, clearly bearing the patina of centuries of use.

Unlike the refined tables of noble families, the tables here were bare, without tablecloths. The six hundred heavy chairs surrounding them were not the elegant high-backed seats favored by aristocrats, but massive chairs hewn from solid blocks of oak.

The weighty tables and chairs, together with the black floor and crimson wall hangings, lent the hall a somber and imposing atmosphere, saturated with a martial air. In each corner stood towering suits of heavy armor, and the walls were adorned with massive axes, broadswords, and cleavers, their blades chipped and scarred—a display so grim it could suffocate the faint of heart.

As soon as he entered, Lin Qi’s gaze was drawn to the dozens of enormous candelabra arrayed on the tables. For a fleeting moment, Enzo caught a familiar golden gleam in Lin Qi’s eyes—the same greedy brilliance he displayed when confronted with piles of gold coins. But this was his own estate; was such avarice still necessary?

Yet, the candelabra were indeed a sight to behold, and Enzo could not help but swallow.

Candelabra of solid gold, exquisitely fashioned and inlaid with a profusion of rubies and sapphires. Each must weigh several hundred pounds, and there were thirty of them—a fortune beyond reckoning. Bathed in the glow of hundreds of candles, they shimmered with an intoxicating, ethereal radiance.

Only dukes and nobles of the highest rank in the Empire could possess such treasures. Enzo’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to them. After three years with Lin Qi, he had acquired a connoisseur’s appreciation for such objects. The candelabra’s forms were beautiful, their decorations modeled after the rosemary leaf motif favored by several royal houses on the continent.

These must have been crafted by master artisans for a royal family, and judging by their patina, they were antiques of considerable age. How had they come to be here? Had some ruined scion of royalty sold off his heritage? Or, perhaps more likely, had Lin Qi’s clan simply plundered a fallen house?

Who could say? Musing on these candelabra, Enzo saw in them a microcosm of the Lin family’s immense wealth and power.

At the far end of the hall, upon a dais half the height of a man, stood a massive throne. Forged from some unknown black metal, it took the form of a fierce black tiger, poised to pounce upon its prey, with a broad, sunken seat set in the beast’s knotted belly.

Seated upon this throne, clad in a robe of black silk, was a burly, bearded man, even taller than Lin Qi by a fist’s length, his entire being exuding an air of menace. He clenched between his teeth a special cigar, a full foot long, drawing and exhaling thick clouds of smoke. As Lin Qi and Enzo entered, the black-bearded patriarch rolled his eyes and glared at them. Enzo felt as if two arrows had been loosed at him, and he instinctively tensed, nearly diving for cover.

What a terrifying presence! Cold sweat broke out anew on Enzo’s back.

Overwhelming strength—strength beyond imagination. This man was the most formidable figure Enzo had ever encountered. Not one among the Hammer, the Butcher, nor even Aunt Lily could compare; next to this man, they were wolves before a lion. His aura and the impression he gave were simply in another league.

Even the most powerful professors at the Military Academy could not match the terrifying intensity of the black-bearded patriarch.

Enzo drew a deep breath and forced himself to stand tall under the man’s gaze.

The black-bearded patriarch gave Enzo an appreciative look, then reined in the dreadful aura he had been deliberately projecting.

Lin Qi, however, was utterly unfazed by his father’s fearsome presence. He strode up to the throne and threw his arms around the man. “Hey, you old devil! It’s been three years—did you miss me, or not? Ah, my departed mother ought to strangle you in your sleep. Three years, a full three years, and you haven’t sent me so much as a copper coin!”

A fleeting softness appeared in the black-bearded man’s eyes, quickly masked by his usual sternness. He rose and hugged Lin Qi tightly, pinning his arms in a crushing embrace. Lin Qi, whose fingers had been stealthily reaching for the purse at the tiger’s waist, went rigid with frustration and stamped his heel down on his father’s toes.

The black-bearded man grunted in surprise. Though he had immobilized Lin Qi, the boy managed to retaliate. This was beyond what he had expected of Lin Qi’s current strength. He released his son, clutching his purse defensively and backing away, then burst out laughing. “Lin Qi, you little scoundrel, you’re even stronger than I’d predicted! Well, well, how interesting!”

Lin Qi was relentless, lunging for his father again. He cried, “Enough with your nonsense! Oh, my poor departed mother, strangle this bearded villain before me! Three years—apart from the one hundred gold coins you gave me when I enrolled, you haven’t sent me a single copper in all that time!”

The black-bearded man clutched his purse for dear life, refusing to let Lin Qi approach. He bellowed, “Enough, Lin Qi! A hundred gold coins is more than enough for any honest, rule-abiding student to live in luxury for a year! Three years—you were gone for three whole years! That’s your own fault!”

Lin Qi’s eyes flashed with indignation, and he sneered, “My fault? If you’d let me gouge out that bastard’s eyes and toss him to the fish, I’d never have gone to Briley in the first place!”

An awkward silence fell over the hall; the Hammer and the Butcher both frowned.

The black-bearded man was silent for a long moment before shaking his head and saying, “Arthur was at fault in that matter, but so were you. Enough. It’s been three years—do you want to start an argument with your old man the moment you return? That’s enough. Tonight is your welcome banquet. Starting tomorrow, you’ll accompany me in calling on those blasted nouveau riche. Listen—this time, your old man is running for mayor of Dunkirk, and you’d better not cause me any trouble!”

Lin Qi and Enzo both swallowed in surprise. What? The black-bearded patriarch was running for mayor?

Suddenly, Lin Qi clutched his stomach and burst into laughter, collapsing weakly to the floor as he laughed.