Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1005

The combat lesson was unremarkable, but Jenkins learned from Miss Bevanna that the decision had been made to permanently close the entrance to the Mysterious Realm on the city's outskirts.

After weighing the intelligence provided by Jenkins and Miss Capet, the Orthodox Church ultimately concluded that the Mysterious Realm was a domain mortals should not explore. For the peace and tranquility of the material world, all secrets concerning it would be sealed away forever, and the story of the circus would be lost to time. Follow current novels on novelꞁire.net

It was the right decision. Greed had not consumed them, and this would clear a path for humanity to continue moving forward.

The next day was Thursday, and early in the morning, Jenkins found a letter in his mailbox from Mr. Bell, the lawyer who lived at Number One, St. George Avenue.

[Esteemed Baron Williamette:

Good day, I am writing to formally invite you to a neighborhood gathering this Sunday at 7:00 PM, to be held at Number One, St. George Avenue. We will be discussing matters of street governance for the coming year.

I wish you a pleasant life on St. George Avenue.

P.S. You need not bring a gift.

Your neighbor, Francis Bell]

He stood by his fence in his pajamas, checking the mail, when he heard a neighbor's door open. It wasn't Mr. Goodman leaving for work, but his neighbor from the other side, a Mrs. Mistala Folant.

The middle-aged woman kept irregular hours; it was the first time Jenkins had ever seen her this early. She noticed him by his mailbox and offered a greeting as she headed toward her own.

She wasn't heading out, but merely collecting her mail and newspaper, just as he was. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Bell had sent her an invitation as well. Jenkins and Mrs. Folant chatted for a moment and agreed that despite the letter's instruction, it would be terribly impolite to arrive empty-handed.

The neighborhood gathering was set for Sunday evening, presumably to accommodate everyone's schedules. Jenkins took the invitation seriously; he expected to live on St. George Avenue for many years and resolved to clear his schedule that night so he could attend.

But he had more pressing matters to attend to today. Half a month after the great battle in the Evergreen Forest, the Sage Church had finished processing the bodies of the fallen and was finally holding a mass funeral. It would take place at the church cemetery on the city's outskirts. Papa Oliver had told him in advance, so Jenkins changed into a formal black suit befitting the somber occasion before heading out.

He first took a carriage to Pops Antique Shop to pick up Papa Oliver, and then the two of them continued toward the city's edge. Jenkins had hailed the cab at the corner of St. George Avenue, and the driver was delighted to have landed such a long fare so early in the morning.

This was not Jenkins's first funeral, so Papa Oliver didn't need to remind him of the expected decorum. The service was scheduled for ten o'clock, and the two of them arrived in the vicinity of the cemetery at half-past eight.

They reached a fork in the road. The path they had come from led back to Nolan; the left fork wound toward the town of Chik and a few smaller villages under Nolan's jurisdiction; and the right fork led to the Sage Church cemetery and a stretch of low, rolling hills dotted with orchards.

After paying the fare, they started down the path toward the cemetery. It wasn't long before they saw it, shrouded in the morning mist. Jenkins and Papa Oliver were not the first to arrive; many others were already there.

Even though the service had not yet started, the atmosphere was heavier than Jenkins had anticipated. He and Papa Oliver stopped speaking as they entered the cemetery grounds. Soon, the old man spotted an acquaintance and went over to chat, leaving Jenkins to stand by himself.

Jenkins recognized most of the people present, and they, in turn, greeted him with great respect. He wished they wouldn't—at least, not here. It made him feel awkward, though he couldn't quite place the source of the emotion.

Bringing a cat to a funeral was highly impolite, but Jenkins couldn't find anyone to watch him on short notice. For now, Chocolate was pretending to be on his best behavior, padding quietly on the grass right at Jenkins's heels. They'd made a one-sided agreement that morning: if Chocolate behaved, he would get something special for dinner.

The cat loved treats, but he hated earning Jenkins's disapproval even more. He was therefore determined to be on his best behavior throughout the funeral, to show his master what a well-behaved cat he could be.

By a little after nine o'clock, almost everyone had arrived. Most of the church's Enchanters who were not on duty that day had come. Many ordinary clergy and high-ranking officials were also in attendance. From a distance, Jenkins saw the Bishop alighting from his carriage, surrounded by an entourage. The Bishop had a eulogy to prepare, however, so Jenkins did not approach him.

With Papa Oliver occupied, Jenkins went to stand with Professor Burns. The two had much in common to discuss. Aside from the Corpse Gentleman's gathering that evening, they spoke about the Skull Sword.

The professor had been fascinated by the blade, and after the incident, he had used the church's resources to look into its history. While his research wasn't a resounding success, he had managed to uncover a few unusual details from the past.

"The Skull Sword is not entirely unknown," the professor began. "In fact, even in our era, legends about that blade persist in many regions. I've looked through the works of several folklorists and found that tales of a 'sword that commands the dead' are woven throughout our history. And in some versions of the story, the sword is even connected to a god."

His interest piqued, Jenkins crossed his arms. He and the professor were standing beneath the colonnade of the chapel at the cemetery's center. Few people passed through this area, making it a good place for a quiet conversation.

"I suspect you've noticed it yourself, however subtly," the professor continued, "but no religious scripture ever claims its god was the very first. As for the world and the divine, the prevailing belief is that the Great Ones—the Spirit of Nature, the Earth Mother, and the Eternal Blazing Sun—were the primordial deities. But have you ever found it strange? Why is the Great One, Death and End, who holds the most orthodox domain of Death, excluded from the primordial gods?"

The professor asked quietly, a hint of fear in his voice at speaking so freely of the gods. Jenkins considered this for a moment before shaking his head, admitting he didn't have an answer. He understood the professor's point; Death ought to have the same standing as All Things, the Earth, and the Sun. It was a peculiar omission.