Chapter 116: Chapter 116

Miss Hersha wasted no time. She sent a manservant to deliver the metal sheets Jenkins needed, neatly packed in a briefcase.

With some time on his hands, Jenkins decided to take a stroll through the black market.

He sought out his contact, the Clown, and was surprised to learn that the Huntress had already completed her task.

It was the same familiar room. The Huntress was leaning quietly against a fabric sofa, the candlelight illuminating only the small wooden table set between four couches.

"You have results, then?"

Jenkins stated the previously agreed-upon code phrase to identify himself, then posed the question.

She replied, tossing over a tan paper bag containing the investigation report.

"Your information was off. No member of the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe has died this year. The deceased was an apprentice makeup artist who had only been employed for six months."

The report stated that Prier Jones, an apprentice makeup artist with the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe, had contracted a severe illness from a cold while in New Truman City. After treatment failed, she died on the road as the troupe traveled to Nolan. Follow current novels on NoveI[F]ire.net

She was properly buried in the public cemetery in Shire City. The Huntress's report was incredibly detailed, even noting the location of the grave and the type of funeral service.

"The report makes no mention of this poor girl having any connection to Enchanters,"

"It's not that I didn't mention it; it's that the investigation turned up no connection between the target and any Enchanters. Your intelligence was flawed, so you had me looking into the wrong person, didn't you? Let's be clear—that's your problem. I've fulfilled your request, so don't use it as an excuse to welch on payment."

Jenkins handed over the prepared note inscribed with the learning ritual for the "War Blessing" ability. Inwardly, he was overjoyed, as this meant the Saint had gone completely undetected.

"Still, Shire City... that's too much of a coincidence. It seems I'll have to make a trip after all..."

Their business concluded, Jenkins bid farewell to the Huntress. He then purchased some precious metals from the black market, gathering the final materials needed for the sealing ritual before departing. He didn't know if the active divinity would cause any strange phenomena, but since the drop in the statue and the one he had sealed were both calm, he knew he had to prepare the ritual regardless.

He paid another visit to the Church of Knowledge and Books, but this time, he couldn't even find Captain Bincy.

Puzzled, he returned home. Gazing at the black rain clouds drifting across the sky, Jenkins frowned.

But the matter of the divinity could not be delayed. Besides, if something were to happen, he would be useless without it as his trump card.

With no one to look after Chocolate, Jenkins packed a small suitcase and brought the cat with him to the Nolan City train station.

Nolan was one of the kingdom's major cities, and its station was magnificent. A ceaseless river of people from all walks of life flowed to and fro. Jenkins wanted to leave immediately so he could return as quickly as possible, which meant the only ticket he could get was for standing room in a common carriage.

He had arrived too late.

But he bought three tickets in total. In this era, all you needed was money to buy a ticket; there was absolutely no way, nor the means, to record each passenger's city identification number.

Jenkins had changed his clothes deliberately. He would take this train to Shire, head straight to the cemetery to investigate, and then, depending on the time, he would keep one of the remaining two tickets and go collect the debt for Papa Oliver. This way, he could almost perfectly account for his trip.

The entire carriage was thick with the heavy stench of sweat. The cat, hidden in the inner pocket of Jenkins's overcoat, began to squirm restlessly.

A young girl standing nearby stared curiously at Jenkins's constantly wriggling chest. Embarrassed, Jenkins pressed his hat down and turned away.

It was nearly dusk when the train departed. According to the station's timetable, it would arrive in Shire at three in the morning, stop for five minutes, and then continue on its way.

For this trip, Jenkins had brought all his worldly possessions with him, including his gold pounds, materials, and even that strange bone. His figure was a size larger than normal, a result of the sheer number of things sewn into his underclothes.

"I hope nothing has happened to Papa Oliver,"

he thought, leaning against the cold metal wall of the carriage, not a hint of sleepiness in him.

The steam whistle shrieked as the train click-clacked across the open fields. In all his time since transmigrating, this seemed to be his first journey beyond the borders of Nolan City.

Jenkins had once seen a steam-powered airship, the greatest marvel of the Steam Age. But such contraptions were far from being mass-produced; their creation involved certain esoteric knowledge.

The Church of Creation and Machinery could spend years building one, with no guarantee it would even fly. Consequently, even a wealthy organization like the Church of Knowledge and Books could only afford two as strategic assets.

Steam trains, however, had become widespread years ago, around the same time as the great plague thirty years prior. Robert Williams had fled to Nolan City on a smuggling ship because the municipal government at the time had forbidden any outsiders from entering the region to protect the local citizens.

He mused idly on the connection between the rise of steam power and the strengthening of the middle-class barrier as the red and blue twin moons rose overhead.

A sudden wave of dread washed over him. He scanned his surroundings, gripping his cane, then stuck his head out the very narrow window.

There, just ahead of the train, a crack about a meter high had appeared right over the tracks, spilling an endless white light.

"Goddess, are you playing some kind of joke on me?"

he yelled without a care for his image, managing only to toss the cat from his coat out the window before throwing himself onto the filthy floor.

Amid the roaring steam whistle, the black train plunged straight into the entrance of the Mysterious Realm. Due to the entrance's height, only the lower half of the carriages made it through. The rest, along with hundreds of wide-eyed, severed heads, were scattered under the serene moonlight that had shone for a thousand years.

He spun through the endless white light, where time and space had lost all meaning.

When he felt solid ground again, he was immensely grateful to the Creator for placing humanity on the earth.

He was still on the train, but the carriage had changed dramatically. This was no longer a common carriage for the poor, with only black iron exhaust pipes to hold onto. Instead, rows of vermilion wooden benches were neatly arranged on either side.

The holy symbol of the Traceless Traveler, painted on the carriage ceiling for safe passage, was gone. In its place was another strange, circular pattern.