I was a kind man, a pure man, an upright man, a just man, a compassionate man, a broad-minded man, a benevolent and merciful man, a noble, honest, and utterly genuine good man, a man universally recognized as flawless.
It could be said that every virtue of humanity was concentrated in me!
—Lin Qi's own words
Winter, night, 1465 of the Revival Age.
The bitter winds from the far northern reaches of the Odin Icefield swept across the Five Great Linked Islands and invaded the Western Continent. Beneath the night sky, the capital of the Gallic Seventh Empire, Berely, shivered in the wind. Its streets and alleys were almost deserted. Now and then, Imperial Royal Dragon Cavalrymen clad in short black cloaks and carrying long silver lances rode past. The crisp clatter of their horses' hooves made certain creatures that prowled the night uneasy.
The wind was like a whip in the hands of a giant, lashing the entire city mercilessly. Most of the city lay submerged in profound darkness, and all the respectable citizens had already gone to sleep, accompanied by the howling gale.
But west of Victory Palace, at the heart of Berely, past Champs-Élysées Street, known as the "Pearl of the Continent," and along Green Avenue and White River Avenue to the end of Fleet Avenue, a vast expanse of buildings blazed with light. Berely First University, Second University, all the way to Fifth University; the Imperial Army Academy, Naval Academy, and Architecture Academy; the Imperial Administrative College and Berely Seminary—dozens of highly specialized schools gathered here. This was "Berely University City," the place that drew the attention of the entire continent.
Thirty years ago, after draining the Western Continent of its last reserves of strength, the century-long Continental-Island War had quietly come to an end. Sun King Louis XIII, who had risen to prominence in the latter half of the war, was a ruler of rare and exceptional ability. As the main battlefield of the Continental-Island War, the Gallic Seventh Empire received enormous financial aid from the European nations after the war. Using that aid, Louis XIII vigorously developed education, and in a mere thirty years built a university city without precedent in European history.
In just thirty years, this place had produced countless outstanding talents, replenishing the Empire's depleted ranks after the war with an endless stream of fresh blood. Driven forward by these elites, the vast Empire rose like a waking lion, dominating the far west of the continent. Its mighty power made the entire continent tremble.
These were the best of times for the Empire, and the worst of times; the most ambitious and enterprising of times, and the most extravagant and corrupt.
Lights flickered in buildings throughout University City. Some students studied diligently in lecture halls and libraries. From the training grounds of several military academies came the neighing of warhorses and the clashing of lances. In the workshops of the Industrial Academy, the ceaseless, shrill clang of metal relentlessly assaulted the ears.
In this age, when nighttime entertainment was scarce, ordinary citizens went to bed as soon as night fell. But here in University City, the lively scene continued until midnight, only gradually quieting down. The immense university district was like a vibrant heart, where youth and passion brewed and blossomed. Its elite students were gathering strength and zeal for the Empire's future.
But just as shadows always lurked beneath the sun, there were always a handful of unusual characters in this passionate, ambitious university city.
While his classmates were working themselves to the bone for the Empire's rise, Lin Qi swaggered out of Fifth University's gates. His expression was gloomy. Several senior students in their fourth year, on duty at the entrance, saw his stiff face and all turned away, pretending not to notice the third-year accounting student violating the nighttime curfew by leaving the school.
Lin Qi had celebrated his eighteenth birthday just last month. He had spent three full years studying in Fifth University's Accounting College. Black hair, black eyes, yellow skin—he had the typical features of an Eastern person. But unlike most Easterners, Lin Qi had a build that rivaled the strongest young men of the Western Continent. Both his height and his broad shoulders were far above average.
Yet, as outsiders liked to say, every accounting student at Berely Fifth University was a parasite on the Empire. Lin Qi was no exception: this parasite had fed well, and his burly frame was even a little pudgy. From a distance, he looked like a bear just waking from hibernation, lumbering along with a conspicuous sway.
Enzo stood at a street corner opposite Fifth University, using a golden acacia tree to hide most of his body. He wore the most fashionable wide-brimmed, gold-trimmed tricorne of the day, along with an equally fashionable brown short cloak modeled after those worn by the Dragon Cavalry. A pair of tight black satin trousers, made from silk imported from the East, clung to his long legs, showing off every sharply defined muscle. There was no question that these black satin trousers were also Berely's latest fashion, all the rage for the past three months.
His strong masseter muscles worked his jaw, grinding tobacco and betel nut together. The pungent mixture kept Enzo full of energy. Like the hat, cloak, and tight trousers he wore, chewing tobacco and betel nut had only recently become a fashionable trend among Berely's lower and middle classes.
When Lin Qi lumbered out like a huge bear, Enzo hurriedly spat a mouthful of blood-red saliva onto the ground and gave a muffled whistle. He leaned out from behind the tree and waved to Lin Qi. "Boss, over here!"
As he called out to Lin Qi, Enzo tightened his grip on the black cloth bundle tucked under his left arm. The bundle was about four feet long and wrapped tightly. Enzo kept touching it from time to time, and even while greeting Lin Qi, he warily glanced around.
Lin Qi glanced around too, then quickly crossed the street. His burly figure disappeared into the acacia tree's shadow.
In the distant lamplight, he caught a glimpse of Enzo's sharply defined face and squeezed the black bundle tucked under his arm. Beneath the thick black cloth was something hard and metallic. Its distinctive feel and shape confirmed that it was exactly what he needed. Lin Qi grinned silently and made a hand signal.
Enzo nodded, took out a wad of tobacco and betel nut, and stuffed it into his mouth. After cautiously looking around, he hurried north along the street, keeping close to the wall. Though tall and powerfully built, Enzo made not the slightest sound as he walked. Hunched over, he appeared and disappeared in the shadows like a ghost.
Lin Qi glanced back at the fourth-year students standing outside the school gates and smiled silently. He followed Enzo without making a sound. The two kept nearly fifty meters apart, deliberately picking their way through winding, complicated alleyways. Before long, they had left the brightly lit university district and reached the old northern quarter of Berely City, where law and order were at their worst.
As Lin Qi passed the gate of a certain courtyard in an unnamed alley, he made several odd-sounding meows.
The courtyard gate opened silently, and four burly figures joined the small party. They followed a dozen or so meters behind Lin Qi, unhurriedly trailing Enzo as he continued onward.
In northern Berely, the mighty Seine River flowed silently by. Thin sheets of ice knocked against one another across the river's surface, which stretched more than ten miles wide, making a barely audible crackling sound. Dozens of man-made piers reached out along the riverbank like arms. This was Berely's northern dock district, the most chaotic area in the region, where respectable, law-abiding people feared to tread—the gathering place of every sort of thug and villain.
At the northernmost end of the dock district, near the meeting point of the Seine and Mana Rivers, stood an old tavern.
A narrow, muddy road led up a few battered steps to the tavern's entrance: two heavy stone slabs covered in peeling paint and greasy grime. Beside the door stood two enormous flowerpots, one on each side, each containing a few shriveled, dead saplings. A dead rat hung from a branch on the left, and a snake's skeleton dangled from a branch on the right.
A crooked, pitch-black wooden sign hung above the stone doors. Only by squinting with all one's might could anyone make out the few scrawled words on it: The Cripple's Shop!
Beyond the stone doors lay a vast courtyard. On the left stood two rows of stone houses, now filled with burly men sleeping every which way. They might have been vagrant sailors from the docks, dockworkers, warehouse guards, or toughs who made their living in any number of ways around the docks. Their muffled snores echoed through the spacious stone buildings. Now and then, someone muttered in his sleep and let out a deep, rumbling laugh.
On the right stood a row of animal pens, where nearly a hundred cattle and horses quietly munched on what little dry grass remained. A jumble of crude flatbed carts and four-wheeled carriages stood nearby, along with several carriages that looked unremarkable but were, in truth, built from fine materials with meticulous craftsmanship.
Facing the entrance at the far end of the courtyard was a three-story stone building. Dim lamplight flickered inside, making its rooms seem even darker and more foreboding. To the building's right, a flight of stone steps descended underground. Follow them down several yards and one reached an underground tavern.
The three-story building aboveground housed the tavern's inn. As long as they could pay, even criminals wanted by the Empire could find the most comfortable lodgings there. But the underground tavern was the owner's main business. Even at this late hour, it remained brightly lit and packed with people.
Down the stone steps and through a heavy, ancient oak door came a wave of heat and booze that nearly knocked a person off his feet.
Beyond the oak door was a vast barroom large enough to hold several hundred people. A row of liquor cabinets stood along the west wall, with several flashy women laughing brazenly behind them. A group of drunken patrons leaned over the counter, just as shamelessly cracking jokes at the women.
In the center of the tavern stood a circular wooden stage, where three scantily clad young women twisted their bodies with abandon. Dozens of red-faced, burly men danced around the stage, shouting chants and stomping their sturdy boots against the rough stone floor in a synchronized thunder of claps. Now and then, an excited fellow pulled shiny copper coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the stage. The three dancers writhed even more fervently, their long hair flying around them, their scarlet lips and sparkling eyes radiating heat. Their youthful, voluptuous bodies quivered, driving the men almost to the point of bursting.
The Cripple stood in a corner behind the bar. He held an enormous copper mug in one hand and a white cloth in the other, baring his teeth as he scrubbed the mug with all his might until both its inside and outside gleamed like a mirror. A huge cigar smuggled in from overseas dangled from his lips, and wisps of pale smoke drifted from his mouth.
The Cripple was the owner of The Cripple's Shop. Very few people knew his real name; everyone called him Cripple. Just like his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and all his more distant ancestors, he was called Cripple and was the owner of The Cripple's Shop.
A portrait hung on the wall behind the bar, a two-foot-square painting on a wall so filthy with smoke it was almost unrecognizable. It depicted a burly man wearing a red bandanna. His left hand had been severed at the wrist and replaced with a sharp iron hook; his right gripped a massive cleaver. His left leg had been chopped off at the knee and replaced with an iron prosthetic. The man had a vicious face, and a multicolored parrot perched on his head.
The man in the portrait had been the first owner of The Cripple's Shop, one of Cripple's ancestors from several generations back. Some said the first proprietor had been a pirate chief who once ruled the three seas, but Cripple always told people that his ancestors had come from a respectable family of scholars.
Suddenly, the tavern erupted in hearty laughter. At a long oak table in a corner, a Blackbeard wearing a black tricorne with a thumb-sized white skull badge pinned to its brim abruptly rose to his feet, raising a mug as big as a human head.
"May old Jack, now deceased, rest in peace in Hell!"
More than twenty bare-chested, burly men sat around the oak table, their faces rough and savage. Every one of them radiated bloodlust and menace to the bone. They grinned broadly, raised their mugs together, and shouted in celebration. They were out-and-out thugs, with the word "thug" branded on every hair of their bodies.
The mugs clashed, spilling foul-smelling liquor all over the table. The men drank their fill, laughing and bragging as they boasted about their haul from their latest "big score." They crowed and bragged without a care, so everyone in the tavern knew they had just plundered a ship, killed everyone aboard, and claimed all its cargo as their spoils.
It had been a rich haul, and the only loss was their old comrade, Old Jack, who had been stabbed through the belly.
Cripple set his copper mug heavily on the rack behind him, picked up another, and began scrubbing it. A strange smile crossed his equally rough and vicious face as he called out, "Welcome back, you brave fellows! Welcome back, and thanks for remembering my lovely Cripple's Shop. Drink your fill, eat your fill! I've prepared a batch of fiery girls for you, and they'll satisfy your every desire!"
The pirates in the corner whistled excitedly. The other customers joined in with raucous shouts, and the stench of liquor and humanity made the air even fouler.
Cripple grinned with delight. Most of the hard-won spoils these bastards earned at sea ended up in his hands. He loved these thick-headed louts with their strong limbs. He loved them to death. It was thanks to them that the wealth of The Cripple's Shop kept growing.
Just then, a small copper bell beneath the bar by Cripple's feet rang.
Cripple paused, then muttered, "Is that little brat here? What good stuff has he brought me this time?"
He put down the mug and cloth and retreated into the shadows behind the bar.
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