Chapter 1666: Chapter 1666

"Are you... alright? Do you need a doctor?"

Once seated in the carriage, Jenkins couldn't help but worry. If the king were to suddenly drop dead in front of him, he'd have an impossible time clearing his name.

"It's nothing, just a minor problem."

Tackwen replied, his Fidektri fluent. He ordered the coachman to set off. Then, before Jenkins could ask another question, he rather forwardly grasped Jenkins's hand and spoke:

"Mr. Williams, I apologize for the intrusion at this early hour. Please, do not speak of our meeting to anyone."

His tone was warm and approachable, and despite the strange circumstances, the king made a good first impression on Jenkins.

"Of course," Jenkins replied. "But may I ask what this is about?"

"Mr. Williams, I know this is sudden, but..."

He addressed Jenkins with such a gentle demeanor that it completely contradicted his moniker, "The Proud One." He seemed less like a powerful monarch ruling one of the three great human kingdoms and more like a kindly neighbor from next door.

"What?" Jenkins was taken aback. "I'm sorry, do you need medical attention? I'm not a doctor."

Though surprised, Jenkins kept his composure. He was a complete stranger to the southern king; it made no sense for their very first private meeting to take such a turn. Besides, he wasn't a doctor, and according to the High Tower Accord, he was forbidden from using his supernatural abilities to treat a monarch.

"No, it isn't an illness. It's something else."

As he spoke, he began to unbutton his shirt. Jenkins instinctively covered his cat's eyes and shrank back slightly, just before he saw a strange, bluish-purple pattern on Tackwen's chest.

"Is that... a tattoo?"

he asked, his voice hesitant.

Tackwen looked utterly dejected.

"The day after my fleet set sail from Eldron, this mark began to appear, little by little. By the night before we reached Nolan, it had taken its full shape. I can feel it draining my life force. I grow weaker every day. Yes... weaker."

He was telling the truth. A single glance at Tackwen's pallid complexion was enough to confirm that his health was in a perilous state.

"Oh, that is truly dreadful,"

"I've always kept my distance from the occult, but I do believe in the power of the divine. If you're certain it's a curse... then we'll call it a curse. But why haven't you sought help from the Church? With your status, I imagine that would be simple. Furthermore, representatives from all Twelve Orthodox Churches are currently in Nolan. I've heard the Church of All Things and Nature has some exceptionally capable physicians."

It was a perfectly sensible suggestion, fitting for the persona he maintained.

"No. I cannot go near any member of the clergy, nor can I even approach a church. The curse prevents it. It bars me from any contact with divine power."

The tall, lean man clutched his chest, looking to be in extreme discomfort.

"I understand your skepticism, Viscount Williams. But the occult is real, and there are those who can truly wield its power. I have tried to seek the Church's aid. Every letter I sent via my servants has vanished without a trace. And in any case, this is not a matter that can be resolved by a simple letter."

His symptoms resembled a heart attack, yet his speech was clear and he showed no signs of fainting. The spell lasted less than ten seconds before he released his hand from his chest. His face beaded with sweat, he turned back to Jenkins.

"I must find a layperson with significant influence within the Church, someone utterly reliable, to deliver a letter for me. You are the best candidate I know of. Your willingness to manage the estate of a deceased friend is proof enough of your loyalty and integrity."

As he spoke, he retrieved a letter from beneath the seat cushion. It looked as though it had been crumpled up and then smoothed out again, a sorry-looking thing.

"Please, deliver this letter to the Church for me."

He looked at Jenkins with an intensely pleading gaze. Unsettled by such a desperate expression, Jenkins shifted uncomfortably before accepting the letter.

"No problem," Jenkins assured him. "It's a small thing."

So far, everything the southern king had said was the truth—including the fact that he had no one he could trust. The revelation gave Jenkins a deeper insight into the political turmoil of the southern kingdom and the immense problems its royal family faced. He'd thought the situation in the northern Hamparvo Kingdom and his own country was chaotic enough. He never imagined something so unbelievable could be happening in the south: a king, cursed by an Enchanter, forced to ask a royal from another nation to help him contact the Church.

If not for the certainty provided by his Lie Godhood, Jenkins would never have believed the dejected king's story. Even with its confirmation, he still suspected something was amiss.

"I must admit, I'm still curious about something."

The carriage was still moving, so Jenkins continued the conversation.

"Why come to me? From my perspective, even if you are surrounded by betrayal and conspiracy, surely you must have one or two people you can trust? And in your kingdom, there must be at least a few loyal nobles?"

In this age, respect for the royal bloodline was paramount. Though Tackwen "The Proud One" might be a figurehead, he had inherited the throne through legitimate means. He was no tyrant, nor had he committed any acts that would earn the hatred of his people. It seemed impossible that he would have no one to trust.

"Were I in my own country, of course I could find loyal men," Tackwen explained. "But this visit to Fidektri was opposed by a certain faction back home. As a condition of my coming, most of my entourage are their spies. The few loyal men I do have are all under constant surveillance. You cannot imagine, Mr. Williams, what it cost me just to slip away and meet you this morning."

It sounded plausible, but Jenkins, who was never quick to trust a stranger, remained skeptical. The king seemed to read his thoughts and continued: The source of this content ɪs Novᴇl_Fire(.)net

"I don't just need a messenger; I need to ensure that person can deliver the letter to the Church safely. They must have enough influence, but not so much that they are constantly watched. They also need the means to protect themselves here, so they won't be assassinated on the church steps. To be frank, I am not familiar with this city on the continent's west coast. In my haste, you were the best choice I could conceive."

When he finished, he covered his mouth with a pristine white silk handkerchief and coughed once. Fortunately, the cloth came away clean, with no trace of blood.

"And I am not asking for this favor for nothing, Viscount Williams. You will have my friendship, and you will receive a 'gift'—one that I believe you need most right now."