Chapter 1270: Chapter 1270

The stone was roughly rectangular, but all six of its surfaces were pitted and uneven, as if eroded by water or wind over a long time. Jenkins couldn't identify the type of rock; after all, Papa Oliver hadn't taught him geology, and it wasn't one of the few stone types commonly used in rituals.

Jenkins designated the only side showing signs of craftsmanship as the front, which did indeed resemble the cover of a book. Near the top center, deeply etched lines overlapped—it was impossible to tell if they were mere scratches or some form of ancient script. Further down, identical, symmetrical vine patterns flanked the center, extending all the way to the bottom where they met. At their junction was the only raised feature on the entire face: a small, black stone.

Running a gloved finger over it, he noted it had the texture of coal.

In the lower-middle portion of the face, encircled by the vine patterns, were five small pits—or indentations—arranged in a ring. All five were identical in shape: perfect, multi-faceted hollows.

"Shouldn't there be something set in here?"

Jenkins wondered aloud.

"I had the same feeling, but there was nothing else inside the post office wall."

The old man said with a note of regret.

After blinking to confirm it had no spiritual aura, Jenkins began a conventional appraisal. Yet, no matter how he cross-referenced the simple patterns with his existing knowledge, he couldn't determine the object's age.

Ultimately, he had to apologize and admit his skills weren't up to the task. The professor, having finished appraising the old books, took a look at the stone slab himself. After a moment of interested examination, he reached the same conclusion as Jenkins: there was no conclusion to be made.

The old librarian, a Mr. Sieve, was visibly disappointed. He likely concluded that if even the professor couldn't identify it, the slab truly must not be worth much.

He casually set it aside and began settling the bill for the old books with the professor. The professor, looking delighted, had decided to purchase the majority of the collection.

Jenkins thought the evening's visit would end just like that. Twenty-odd books weren't enough to justify hiring a delivery service, so he and the professor intended to carry them back together.

Just as he and Mr. Sieve were tying the books into bundles, a strange sound came from the backyard. It was the distinct noise of someone climbing over a wall, a sound Jenkins knew all too well.

Before he could react, a dull thud resounded as a black boot kicked the door in. The three men in the living room, hunched over their work, jerked their heads up in astonishment. Three figures stood in the doorway, their faces obscured by black cloth.

The leader raised a pistol, aiming it squarely at the professor, who stood nearest. Jenkins, who had been bent over in the back of the room searching for more rope, reacted in a flash. His eyes narrowed as he began to mutter rapidly under his breath:

"You can't see me, you can't see me, you can't see me!"

The lie took hold instantly, believed by everyone in the room. The three intruders, who hadn't noticed the third person to begin with, stormed in and backed Professor Burns and Mr. Sieve into a corner. As for the professor and the librarian, they looked on in astonishment—they knew Jenkins had been right there, bent over in the corner, but now he was simply gone.

"Hand over your valuables, and we won't hurt you."

The leader spoke in a stiff Fidektri accent, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the professor's chest. His two accomplices fanned out into the adjoining rooms, presumably in search of anything valuable.

"My wallet is on me, sir. Could you please move the gun? I have a heart condition."

The professor shot a sidelong glance at the spot where Jenkins had vanished before speaking in a weak, feigned voice. The old librarian, Mr. Sieve, looked equally terrified, stammering and trembling as he revealed where his money was hidden.

"You two squat here and don't move. We'll leave as soon as we have the money."

The gunman lowered his pistol, grabbed some of the rope intended for the books, and bound Professor Burns and the librarian. With the two old men secured, he ignored them and joined his accomplices in ransacking the place.

Standing invisibly beside the professor, Jenkins watched the trio. He got the distinct impression they weren't just common robbers. They were looking for something.

First, a masked robbery targeting a reclusive librarian was already an absurd premise. Second, Mr. Sieve and the professor had already told them where to find the money, and the men had taken it. Yet instead of leaving, they were still tearing the place apart.

This was downtown Nolan. The house might not have faced a main road like the library's entrance, but City Hall was just a stone's throw away. Jenkins couldn't fathom where they found the courage.

After a full half hour of turning the house upside down, they still hadn't found what they were looking for. Finally, the gunman stalked back over to the corner, this time roughly shoving his pistol in Mr. Sieve's face:

"Talk! That stone slab they found at the Nolan post office last week—where have you hidden it?"

"So that's what they're after."

A look of realization dawned on Professor Burns's face. He turned to the gunman and said:

"The stone slab is behind the very door you kicked down."

People often have blind spots. The trio had searched for half an hour, yet none of them had thought to look behind the door. As soon as the professor spoke, the gunman spun around to check, only to be struck squarely by the flying bodies of his two companions.

The three men crashed to the floor in a tangled heap, the pistol skittering away from their grasp. Just as they scrambled to retrieve it, they heard an exaggerated roar. They looked up to see the old professor flex, snapping the ropes that bound him with nothing but his own strength.

He scooped up the pistol that had landed at his feet and gave a nod to Jenkins, who had just tossed the other two robbers across the room. After checking the weapon and flipping off the safety, he aimed it at the three men on the floor.

"Alright, now it's your turn to answer some questions. Who are you? And why are you after this stone slab?"

None of the three robbers were hardened criminals, the sort who could maintain their silence at gunpoint. But they couldn't give Jenkins and the professor the answers they were looking for anyway. They were just desperate outsiders, hired for the job. Their employer, who had found them through a loan shark, had paid off their debts and given them each a three-pound deposit to find and acquire the stone slab.

"He said if we succeeded, he would meet us tomorrow at noon."

"But how would he know if you succeeded..."

Halfway through his question, Jenkins realized something was wrong and bolted out the door. His eyes scanned the surroundings, spotting the tell-tale glow of a Level 3 Enchanter receding quickly in the distance. He was about to summon a unicorn to give chase, but the professor rushed out right behind him.

That brief delay was enough. In the end, they couldn't find the mysterious observer.

Mr. Sieve, the old librarian, was thoroughly spooked by the ordeal. Even as Jenkins and the professor accompanied him to deliver the robbers to the KalFax Field station just a street away, the old man couldn't stop shaking.

Since the incident involved an Enchanter, it had to be handed over to the Church. It wasn't wise for Jenkins to be officially involved, so he left as soon as they reached the KalFax Field.

The stone slab, now a key piece of evidence, remained with the professor. He would turn it over to the Church, who could hopefully identify it. That, in turn, might provide a lead to track down the mysterious Enchanter.

From the street corner, Jenkins watched them enter the police station. He breathed a sigh of relief, though he couldn't help but reflect on the night's unexpected chaos. Glancing up at the twin moons, now veiled by clouds, he decided he would visit the professor tomorrow for an update.

Wednesday morning arrived, and as usual, Jenkins was woken by his cat, Chocolate. Still groggy with sleep, he somehow mistook the animal for his alarm clock and reached out to press the snooze button, only to grab a handful of Chocolate's tail. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the Nov3lFɪre.ɴet

The move filled the quiet morning manor with a brief burst of commotion and left Jenkins with a fresh set of scratches on his wrist.

He had another day with nothing scheduled. After greeting everyone at the breakfast table, he promised Dolores he would take her to see the ice castle outside the city that evening.

Dolores had been tackling her official duties with gusto for the last few days. Her father, the king, had delegated his authority quite thoroughly this time; any of his children who expressed an interest in politics were granted positions within the government.

But to participate was to enter the dangerous game of succession. Thus, aside from Dolores and the few other Stuarts who were already established players, most of her siblings were more focused on choosing which candidate to support rather than being blindly tempted by the power of the crown.

Ruen had become a great whirlpool, churning with dangerous undercurrents and hidden schemes. Jenkins, who by all rights should have been near its center, had stayed out of the fray, his thoughts still lingering on Nolan. In truth, however, his name had been known to most of Ruen's key players since the very first day he'd made a public appearance in the city.

"Speaking of which, we received a letter from the Fidektri royal family yesterday. Your queen first inquired after Father's health, then expressed her nation's sorrow over the recent uprising in Ruen. All very formulaic. Oh, but it did mention you. Not by name, but as ‘the writer from Nolan’."

Dolores said this while seated at the dining table. Next to her was her younger sister, Princess Angelina Stuart, who had decided to move in with Dolores.

Jenkins lowered his newspaper and looked at Dolores in confusion.