Chapter 1646: Chapter 1646

Inside a carriage near the docks, their conversation continued. As much as Jenkins admired the princess's confidence, he felt compelled to offer a word of caution.

"Don't make it sound so easy," he urged. "We have to be careful. But if we succeed, two-thirds of the human world will be..."

He knew all too well that plans rarely survive contact with reality, but everything was finally drawing to a close. All the arrangements were on the schedule. Both his preparations and his opponent's schemes were nearing their final stages. The Eighteenth Epoch had little time left.

In truth, the diplomatic fleet from Cheslan had reached the waters near Nolan the previous night. But the King of Cheslan couldn't very well disembark under the cover of darkness—he was here for a state visit, not some clandestine mission. Consequently, the delegation had been forced to spend another night aboard their ships.

Even though the two nations were still technically at war, the Fidektri Kingdom went to great lengths to show respect. The welcoming ceremony was even more lavish than the one held in Bel Diran for the delegation from the northern kingdom.

As a member of the royal family, Jenkins stood at the forefront with Her Majesty the Queen, watching the fleet draw near the docks. His two brothers, Newman and John Williams, had been conspicuously absent from public events lately—a clear signal to all that they had no interest in the throne.

"I heard that last night you brought both the Hersha girl and the Mikhail girl home with you?"

Watching the massive steam liner glide toward the shore, Queen Isabella turned to Jenkins with a knowing smile. Her network of informants was clearly impeccable. A short distance away, beyond the crowd, lay the main pier. Nolan Harbor was renowned as one of the continent's finest deep-water ports, easily capable of berthing such colossal vessels.

"Yes. I believe I should take responsibility for them."

"I've also heard you're quite close with the Stuart girl."

Queen Isabella pressed, her tone as warm and gentle as an elder doting on a younger relative.

"Yes, that's true... Dolores and I know each other well. We're good friends."

"That simply won't do, you know. While it's true that young people are prone to such things, no one has ever been so... public with their relationships. Setting aside all else, I imagine Earl Hersha and Marquis Mikhail won't be pleased. The unmarried daughters of noble houses, staying in another man's home."

She delivered the words with a tone of gentle rebuke.

"I will explain it to them myself."

"So then, Jenkins, are you on good terms with the Marquis?"

This was a critical question. Jenkins offered a small smile.

"He's a rather formidable man, and I've only met him once or twice. But I believe if my words are sincere, the Marquis won't make things difficult for me."

The queen's voice was tinged with doubt, but Jenkins offered no further explanation. She was, after all, a monarch who had reigned for over fifty years. Seeing his reticence, she didn't press the matter. The small test had passed.

More citizens were gathering to watch the ceremony, and the invited nobles continued to arrive. Not everyone, of course, was permitted to stand before the security cordon. From what Jenkins recalled of the guest list, only the highest-ranking nobles of the Fidektri Kingdom were granted the honor of standing with Queen Isabella.

Miss Windsor, another heir to the throne, stood just behind him, while Marquis Mikhail was positioned a short distance away. Their eyes met, and the Marquis gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement, his expression unreadable.

It wasn't long before the enormous liner was moored at the pier. A gangway was lowered from the deck, connecting to the red carpet that had been rolled out on the dock. The band struck up a tune, and a roar went up from the crowd. From his vantage point, Jenkins could already make out the silhouettes of people on the deck.

He straightened his bow tie and gently stroked the cat perched on his shoulder, which was craning its neck to take in the scene. He made a mental note to visit the church after the ceremony to check on the other young women from the previous night.

A cannon salute boomed, showering the crowd with colorful confetti. White doves, symbols of peace, were released from their cages and soared into the sky. A festive atmosphere enveloped the entire docklands. Everyone—the spectating citizens, the police maintaining order, the people on the ship and on the shore—felt the promise of a flawless ceremony.

Jenkins, however, was looking up with a different concern. Worried that an indiscriminate pigeon might relieve itself in mid-flight, he used his [Spiritual Communion] ability to telepathically ask them not to do anything so impolite over his head. The pigeons were remarkably courteous. They respectfully acknowledged his request, chirping their greetings as they flew off into the distance.

One particularly clever dove even sent him a warning: someone not far away was readying a pistol. It urged him to be extremely careful.

He held his breath, focusing his mind. His ordinary senses picked up nothing, but his sixth sense—honed to a preternatural sharpness—instantly pinpointed the assassin's location.

Without needing a prompt from the cat on his shoulder, he snapped his head to the side. A bullet whizzed past, almost grazing his cheek. The crack of the gunshot was completely swallowed by the booming cannons and the roar of the crowd. Since Jenkins was the only one in the bullet's trajectory, no one else even realized what had just happened when he dodged it.

Shouts and cheers filled his ears, punctuated by the deafening groan of the steam liner as it settled against the pier—a sound that made one's heart pound. Jenkins's expression hardened, but he resisted the urge to turn and look in the direction of the shot.

He mentally replayed the positions of everyone standing behind him, locating Mr. Vicquem—the man who had asked Alexia for a dance the previous night. He was here as well, another one of the potential heirs.

He thought to himself, giving his right shoulder a subtle twitch. The cat instantly understood his intent and leaped obligingly from his shoulder toward the people behind him.

The people behind him, startled by the sudden leap, scrambled to get out of the cat's way. This briefly exposed Jenkins to the assassin's line of sight once more. But before a second shot could be fired, the royal heirs behind him had already broken their neat formation in the chaos of avoiding the cat.

His heightened senses picked up the telltale prickle of imminent danger, like a needle against his skin. Without looking back, Jenkins instantly conjured a small patch of ice at Mr. Vicquem's feet. The young man, already off-balance from dodging the cat, slipped and pitched forward. His panicked cry made everyone in the front row turn their heads. Check latest chapters at noveⅼfire.net

Just as Jenkins turned, the second shot rang out. At the same instant, he reached out—as if to steady the falling man—and pulled Mr. Vicquem toward him. The young nobleman's body perfectly shielded Jenkins, intercepting the bullet that had been meant for him.

"Assassin! There's a gunman!"

A blossom of blood erupted from young Mr. Vicquem's shoulder. Jenkins didn't need to shout; the people nearby instantly erupted in screams. The guards responsible for the queen's safety immediately swarmed forward, forming a human wall to block any possible angle for another shot.