Everyone's focus was riveted on Zain, who lay sprawled on the grandiose, velvet-upholstered couch in the opulent parlor. Despite the tense atmosphere, he seemed oblivious, his eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion. He desperately wanted to sleep, having spent the past few nights wrestling with insomnia. The fatigue etched into his features told a tale of restless nights and ceaseless thoughts.

  "What the hell are you saying? This wine contains poison? Explain!" Izark bellowed, his voice echoing off the marble walls and causing the crystal chandelier to tremble slightly.

  Zain barely stirred. "Okay, don't hurt my eardrums." he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. "Why do you think the wine has such a unique flavor and tastes as if it had been aged for a hundred years? It's because of the Paroma Scorpion Venom."

  The Paroma Scorpion was a deadly creature, a myth in many circles, dwelling deep underground and found only in the heart of the desert. Legends told of their elusive nature and lethal sting. Their venom was famed among assassins for being undetectable, rendering its victim lifeless within seconds without leaving a trace. It was said that the scorpions glowed faintly in the moonlight, their venom sacs a precious, dangerous treasure.

  Detecting and treating the venom was a Herculean task, fraught with peril. Procuring it required the skill of a seasoned hunter, for the Paroma Scorpion was notoriously difficult to locate. Extracting the venom sacs demanded utmost precision; a single mistake could render the poison useless, as its potency diminished rapidly. This rarity and danger meant it commanded a high price in the underworld markets.

  "Why the hell are you using it to make wine? Are you out of your mind?" Izark's voice was a mixture of disbelief and fury, his eyes blazing with anger.

  "Relax." Zain began, his tone weary but confident.

  "Relax? How can I relax when you are poisoning me and everyone else who drinks this wine?" Izark's face was flushed with rage, his fists clenched at his sides.

  Zain sighed, clearly exasperated by Izark's tendency to jump to conclusions. After ten minutes of relentless yelling, Izark finally paused, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  "Finally, done. Now listen to me. Do you think I don't know this is dangerous? I've conducted numerous experiments with various animals. The venom completely vanishes after fifteen days of being dissolved in any solution."

  "But it helps in the fermentation and aging of the wine. It gives the wine a unique flavor, making it taste as if it has been aged for years. The venom is mixed with the wine before fermentation and left for fifteen days. During this time, the venom aids in fermentation and aging, then completely dissolves, nullifying any poison. So, it's not poisonous."

  "But drinking it before the process is complete could be deadly. Of course, for an expert like you, it poses no threat. So, you can have it, but it won't taste good."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Izark, momentarily at a loss for words, stared at his son. His mind churned with conflicting emotions: pride at Zain's ingenuity and fear for the risks involved. When Zain saw that his father was really angry, he finally straightened up and looked more attentive.

  "WHY WOULD YOU USE POI..." Izark cut himself off, glancing around warily. Even walls have ears, and he didn't want this explosive news to escape the confines of their private meeting.

  "Give me one reason why you would use poison to make wine? Heck, where did you even get this poison?" Izark demanded, his voice a low growl.

  A sly smile crept across Zain's face. "Don't you remember when you tasked Morris with killing all those old men in the family who were planning resistance against you? The servant in charge of procuring poison for the assassination gave me a living Paroma Scorpion when I asked him 'nicely'."

  "It was a female, about to lay eggs. So, I created an environment where the Paroma Scorpion could live and breed. Right now, I have more than a hundred scorpions in my manor's basement. I can only maintain that many."

  "And why use poison? It's simple. Who in their right mind would think of making wine using poison? I discovered this technique accidentally because of that book by Goya Stonehill. So, we don't have to worry about our secret being copied. Only people in this room and Chris know about it."

  Izark's eyes widened in shock. The mission had been shrouded in secrecy. Other than him, Morris, and his loyal servants who had carried out the orders, no one was supposed to know about it. The fact that Zain had managed to raise Paroma Scorpions was an astounding feat. Their venom was always in high demand, a prized commodity among those who dealt in death. His reasoning was sound, but it did little to alleviate Izark's concern.

  "Why do you look so shocked? It was easy to see the truth behind the so-called 'tragedies'. Only those who died were against you. If I were in your place, I would have had some of our supporters act sick for a while to make it more believable. And you would never want to experience how difficult it is to raise the Paroma Scorpion."

  Izark let out a frustrated groan. "Agh... what? Just forget about it. Let's talk about our future plans. When are we going to begin our sales? Now that we have six hundred bottles of wine, should we start selling?" His voice was weary, tinged with resignation.

  Zain pondered for a moment, his gaze distant. "No, I want to make it a big event. Can Father throw a party where even the Emperor would attend? We can launch our wine there."

  "If I call in some favors, I can ensure the Emperor attends. It would also cost a lot to hold a suitable event, but it can be done. What would be the reason for this event?" Izark's mind was already racing, calculating the logistics and potential outcomes.

  When Izark asked this, both Morris and Raina, who had been silent during the conversation, suddenly spoke in unison.

  "I have a proposal, my lord." they said, their voices harmonizing in unexpected agreement.

  "Morris, you go first." Izark directed, curious about the alignment of their thoughts.

  "Master, I think Raina and I have the same thought. My young master will turn fourteen in four months. I think that would be the best occasion for a celebration."

  Raina nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with excitement. However, Zain's expression soured at the suggestion.

  "Though I don't like the idea of being paraded around like some rare animal, I can't think of a better occasion. It would be four months away, giving us plenty of time to prepare. Also, Father, you will be receiving quite a gift from me after the harvest next month." Zain said, his tone begrudging but accepting.

  Izark was intrigued but chose not to press for details. Instead, he shifted the conversation to another pressing matter. "Now, what about your training?"

  "MY WHAT?!!" Zain's exclamation was a mixture of surprise and dread, his fatigue momentarily forgotten.