Chapter 1371: Chapter 1371
In the end, Alexia Miller never mentioned how to use C-03-0921, the Silver Spoon. Jenkins couldn't tell if she had simply forgotten or had deliberately kept the information from him.
The mention of the Silver Spoon reminded Jenkins of the cursed key that had afflicted Papa Oliver with agelessness. He had learned the story from Miss Stevel, who had been an apprentice before him, just two weeks ago. However, at her request to keep the matter private, Jenkins hadn't told a soul.
"Then, among the key-type Cursed Items, are there any famous ones? Perhaps one whose specific details are known only to its owner, or one that carries a terrible curse?"
He asked vaguely, not holding out much hope. After all, Miss Stevel had been searching for years and still wasn't certain if the Church had ever even recorded the existence of the key that held Papa Oliver captive.
"Key-type Cursed Items usually have similar effects," Alexia replied. "The more famous ones include A-12-1-0399, the 'Ancient Key of the Dead'; A-10-1-0286, 'The Keeper of the Forbidden Book'; and A-02-1-0214, 'The Lock and Key of the Heart'. Which one are you asking about?"
Alexia asked, her curiosity piqued, assuming Jenkins was simply looking to expand his knowledge. He posed a few more questions before abandoning the line of inquiry. None of her descriptions matched the curse that afflicted Papa Oliver.
And so, Tuesday, the 23rd of April, arrived. The temperature in Ruen was rising noticeably. The turmoil of the Ice and Snow Festival had passed more than half a month ago, and the ice gripping the city was finally beginning to melt. Even in this northern kingdom, the air held the scent of spring. But spring wouldn't last long; by late May, summer would be just around the corner. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ⓝovelFire.net
After breakfast, he was once again summoned to the church in Ruen. It wasn't because of another incident in the diocese; Papa Oliver had contacted him again through the Basin of Illusions.
First, naturally, he relayed the events of the previous night in Nolan. After enjoying Jenkins's astonished reaction, Papa Oliver subtly inquired about the progress he was making in his divination lessons with Miss Audrey.
He answered honestly, as it was one of the few supernatural arts he simply couldn't seem to master.
"You must remember that you are a follower of the Sage," Papa Oliver said. "Don't let some heretic lead you astray."
Papa Oliver's warning was anything but subtle. He was clearly worried that Miss Audrey was using the lessons as a pretext to sway Jenkins's faith.
"I understand. Please, don't worry. Miss Audrey isn't that sort of person, and I'm not so easily fooled..."
Jenkins replied with a sigh, then asked once more when he could return to Nolan. He didn't dislike Ruen, but Nolan was, after all, his home.
"Are you tired of Ruen already?" Papa Oliver asked. "I would have thought you'd quite enjoy living with a princess and not having to work."
Papa Oliver sounded genuinely puzzled, though Jenkins detected a sharp note of sarcasm in his tone.
"I miss Pops Antique Shop."
That was his reply, which prompted Papa Oliver to remark on his pitifully poor flattery.
Nolan was bathed in brilliant sunshine that day, as spring reached its magnificent peak. It had been the original Jenkins's favorite time of year. The very air of the city was infused with the season, and not even the faint, scorched smell of industry could dampen the vibrant life that beckoned everyone to embrace the warmth.
If the city was so full of life, the countryside in late April was even more stunning. Wildflowers carpeted the fields, and young trees stood proudly along the lanes. Life bloomed in every corner, and even the celestial unicorn seemed thrilled by the spectacle of spring.
Only the lazy cat Chocolate was its usual languid self, showing no signs of going into heat as cats often do in spring. Jenkins had worried for a time that it was unhealthy, but after consulting Old Jack by letter, he learned that young animals who consumed the Potion of Animal Sentience would indeed experience delayed growth and development, so he had no reason to worry.
Roman Town, in Sandville County, was not what one would call prosperous. It had preserved its rustic way of life, making it, in Jenkins's eyes, an ideal place to retire.
The town was small but exceptionally pretty. Its location south of Nolan spared it from the peculiar monsoonal climate created by the Sebek Mountain Range, and by the end of April, it was already awash with blooming flowers.
The main part of the town was a simple grid of five streets running east to west and three running north to south. Beyond this small network lay open countryside.
Jenkins landed in a field a short distance from the town. Cradling his cat, he walked for ten minutes to the entrance, where he was immediately stopped. Being a stranger, he was questioned at length by the local sheriff, who was investigating a murder, before finally being allowed to proceed.
When the sheriff, a middle-aged man with thinning hair, learned that Jenkins was there to visit Viscount Franca, he kindly informed him that the family had moved to their ancestral home in the country two weeks prior. Only a few servants remained at the house in town to act as caretakers.
"That little manor is near Lower Vadin Village," he explained. "It's not far from here."
The sheriff tore a page from his pocket notebook and jotted down the address and a note for Jenkins.
"Viscount Franca loves having visitors, even strangers. If you can get there by lunchtime, he'll surely invite you to eat."
Lower Vadin Village lay to the southeast, connected to the town by a narrow country lane. Jenkins hired a carriage and spotted the village within half an hour. Following the sheriff's directions, the coachman didn't proceed into the village but instead turned right onto a smaller track, barely visible beneath sparse weeds. Before long, the desolate manor came into view, perched on the shaded face of a hill.
Though the day was splendid and the countryside sun-drenched, the manor itself was completely engulfed in the hill's shadow. Coupled with the bleak landscape, it irresistibly brought to mind the setting of a chilling horror story.
The coachman confessed that despite frequently traveling through the area, he had never once noticed the small manor.
The path ahead was too rough for the carriage, so the driver let Jenkins off before they reached the gate.
The building was clearly ancient. The outer stone walls were dyed green with climbing ivy, and the path leading from the lane was all but lost beneath wild grass. Only a small stretch directly before the main gate had been cleared.
A crooked wooden sign stood by the entrance, bearing the words: PRIVATE PROPERTY, BEWARE OF DOG. Jenkins seriously doubted anyone would ever venture to such a remote place.
He scanned the entrance for a while but saw no bell or knocker. Standing on his toes, he peered over the gate, hoping someone inside might notice his arrival, but the courtyard was completely deserted.