Chapter 1670: Chapter 1670

The night was tranquil on St. George Avenue, and in his second-floor bedroom, Jenkins found a similar peace.

The maid who entered the quiet room wore no ordinary uniform. Julia’s usual attire was a thick, durable garment, the kind that made one sweat just by looking at it in the summer—truly an outfit made for work, meant to resist dirt and wear.

Tonight, however, she wore something light and sheer, a uniform that used remarkably little fabric. Despite its scant material, the outfit was clearly expensive, adorned with decorative lace and gossamer designs. It made Jenkins marvel that even if this world's manufacturing couldn't compare to his own, its designers possessed a truly superb vision and creativity.

“Um... is something wrong?”

The only light in his room came from the gas lamp on his nightstand. He had been propped up against his pillows, reading 'The Collection of Elegant Echoes'. The title suggested poetry, but the book was, in fact, a collection of ancient diviners’ manuscripts belonging to Audrey. Jenkins had to read it and submit his notes within the week.

Julia’s face was beet red. Though normally a decisive and graceful maid, she was not a brazen young woman. She turned and shut the door behind her. In the combined glow of the moonlight and the gas lamp, Jenkins could easily appreciate the beauty of her uniform—an outfit so scant on fabric it seemed to belong to another era.

It wasn't that he failed to understand Julia's intentions. By now, he’d been intimate with three different women; he was no longer the clueless young man of the past. Still...

“Did Dolores send you?”

“I know you would never betray Dolores, so my question was unfair. It puts you in an impossible spot, so don't answer it. You don't have to do this. Regardless of who sent you, this kind of thing... well...”

He struggled to find the right words.

“This must make you uncomfortable, and you don't have to go through with it. Julia, I respect you. You don't have to wear something so... revealing for me.”

As Jenkins saw it, the young princess was likely jealous of the other women in his house. Feeling helpless, she had sent her maid to take her "place" for the night. It was an easy conclusion to draw; all the palace romance novels he’d read in this world were filled with similar plots.

Julia hadn't finished before Jenkins grabbed his own clothes, which were draped over a chair, and placed them around her shoulders. The maid uniform was simply too provocative, and Jenkins had no desire to damage his reputation—or hers—over an article of clothing.

“Hurry back to bed. If Dolores asks about it later, I'll explain.”

Without waiting for an argument, he took the young maid by the hand, led her out of his bedroom, and wished her a polite goodnight before closing the door.

Her face still flushed, the maid stood in the hallway. She didn't leave. Instead, she leaned against the wall, Jenkins's coat draped over her shoulders, as if trying to let the cool surface absorb the heat burning within her.

Suddenly, she pressed a hand over her heart. Each beat sent a thrumming palpitation through her very soul. This wasn't some cardiac ailment; the young maid was finally beginning to understand what she truly felt.

Tonight’s venture had been half Dolores's insinuation and half her own volition. Dolores treated her like family and would never have forced her into something . The truth was, Julia had developed a certain fondness for Jenkins and had come here willingly.

She had considered many possibilities before entering his room, but she had never imagined Jenkins would react this way. Then again, if she had spoken to Briny beforehand, she would have known exactly what to expect.

In some respects, while Jenkins was hardly a prude, he still clung to his own set of values. For instance, Dolores was only sixteen, so she was off-limits. And he would never sleep with Julia, not when he believed she had been coerced into coming to his room.

Such scruples were strange, almost incomprehensible, to the people of this world.

“The princess chose well.”

The maid thought, her face burning, as she stared at the closed door, fighting the urge to knock again. But Julia was, at heart, too reserved. She pushed herself away from the wall, deciding a cool shower was in order before bed—a shower to wash away the memory of Jenkins, flustered and blushing just moments before.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs. Hathaway appeared in the hallway, clad in her pajamas and slippers, a teacup in hand. Her eyes landed on Julia, standing right outside Jenkins’s bedroom, dressed in a "simple" black-and-white lace maid’s uniform with Jenkins’s coat draped over her.

The red-haired girl hummed thoughtfully. She recalled what she’d recently learned about Jenkins and Briny on the train and, knowing Jenkins as she did, pieced together the scene that had just unfolded.

She didn't mock Julia. Hathaway was perfectly composed. In fact, she fixed her gaze on the "pretty" maid uniform, giving it a blatant, head-to-toe appraisal. She finished with a wolf whistle aimed at Julia before turning away as if she hadn't seen a thing and sauntering back to her room, cup in hand.

Right now, the maid wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

At breakfast on Wednesday, the household gathered around the dining table showed no sign of anything amiss, as if completely unaware of the previous night's events. In truth, Hathaway had already told Briny everything, but neither of the young women was bothered.

In their eyes, Dolores was destined to join this household, so it was only natural that something might happen between Jenkins and her personal maid. Having grown up in powerful noble families, their perspective was vastly different from that of the writer from another world. It was, in part, why his audacious claim of wanting them all hadn't caused the entire arrangement to implode.

Today was the day of the Tri-King Summit. Everyone knew it was coming, but its arrival still felt surreal. Jenkins was to attend as a member of the royal family, so he had risen early, enlisting the help of the three young women in his household to choose a suitable outfit.

Jenkins assumed Julia would rush back to help Dolores choose her own attire, but Julia simply remarked that the princess had plenty of other maids.

“If they cannot perform their duties in my absence as head maid,” Julia posed, “then what purpose would Her Highness have in keeping them?”

Despite its name, the Tri-King Summit wasn't just three kings negotiating in some dark back room. The entire event was scheduled to last a week, covering a vast range of topics: war, financial reform, territorial disputes, environmental policy, the sharing of steam technology, and more. A week was only an estimate; the conference could extend much longer if needed.

The joint conference of the Twelve Orthodox Churches was set to begin after the summit, and that would last at least another week. After that came the final negotiations with the Believers of Lies.

The participants of the Tri-King Summit were the political elite of their nations. Jenkins was no such thing; in fact, he wouldn't dare claim to understand politics at all. But the summit required his status, so he had to attend and serve as part of the scenery.

Though he was now considered Fidektri's most likely successor, he had no experience in statecraft. It would have been strange, even improper, for him to speak.

Today was the first day: the opening ceremony. To kick off an event the likes of which hadn't been seen in a millennium, Nolan City Hall and the Kingdom of Fidektri had pulled out all the stops, planning a host of celebratory activities.

The summit was held at Nolan City Hall, and the square outside had been choked with carriages since dawn. Jenkins had no choice but to get out at the corner and walk. Fortunately, he ran into Miss Windsor, who had arrived just ahead of him. With her guidance, he managed to make his way through the throng.

The entire morning was a blur of interviews, speeches, photographs, and handshakes. Jenkins couldn't remember time ever passing so slowly. He’d never endured such a pointless morning. To make matters worse, the day was exceptionally hot. Even the eerie mist that still coiled through the streets did nothing to stop the rising heat.

The cat on Jenkins’s shoulder had drifted in and out of sleep more times than he could count. At one point, groggy from a nap, it had even crawled onto the top of his head. Jenkins didn't mind, but Queen Isabella had sternly ordered him to get it down.

“This is a formal occasion,” she’d chided. “What on earth do you think you look like?”

The Queen wasn't wrong, of course, but the vindictive little cat held a grudge against her all the same.

The formal talks began after lunch. Once the less important attendees were cleared out, the first closed-door session commenced. All three monarchs were present, their goal being to set the tone for the rest of the summit.

As an unimportant figurehead, Jenkins was seated near the back of the hall. The center of the room was dominated by a long table reserved for the participants who would be speaking.

He listened with half an ear, his gaze wandering around the room. The Stuarts were all in attendance, each listening with rapt attention. The "Proud One" of Cheslan had brought members of his royal family as well. Though he hadn't brought nearly all of his competent children, as Salsi II had, he was at least accompanied by the second and third princes in line for his throne.

Considering the two kingdoms were still at war, his caution was understandable.

It seemed that everyone but Jenkins and his cat was listening intently, occasionally jotting down notes. The translators, in particular, were sweating bullets, their task of simultaneous interpretation being far from easy.

“I seem to recall Miss Windsor—or was it Alexia?—mentioning that simultaneous interpreters are paid by the hour,” Jenkins mused. “Half a pound an hour. A respectable profession indeed.”

His mind soon drifted. Though he was subconsciously still registering the speeches, his thoughts had turned to matters entirely unrelated to the summit.

“I suppose I'm a wealthy man now,” he thought. “Briny was just saying the other day that I'm too frugal, that I barely have any clothes in my wardrobe. Perhaps I should be more generous... starting with an increase to Chocolate's food allowance?”

He had come to see the cat as an extension of himself, so increasing its food allowance counted as spending money on himself. The cat, having "overheard" Jenkins's stray thought, practically lit up, its head nearly bobbing in an enthusiastic nod.

It tilted its head back and let out a hopeful cry. Jenkins quickly stroked its small head to quiet it. This was no place for outbursts.

His eyes drifted around the room again. Queen Isabella had brought ten nobles with claims to the throne to serve as part of the backdrop. Including those heirs who were present due to their official duties, there were at least fifteen potential successors to the Fidektri throne in the room.

Jenkins’s gaze found Miss Windsor. She too had been invited by the Queen and was seated a short distance in front of him. Even from behind, he could see she was listening and taking notes with intense focus.

A pang of guilt struck him—a feeling that he was wasting his time. But the sensation vanished in the next instant as the ground began to shake.

Startled, he shot to his feet, quickly tucking the cat from his lap into his pocket.

“Don't panic! Leave in an orderly fashion!”

Salsi II, who had been speaking just moments before, shouted the order. The tremor wasn't severe, but its epicenter was clearly within Nolan itself. The shaking was distinct even to those who were seated, causing a stir of panic among the visitors.

The earthquake brought the day's proceedings to an abrupt halt. Fortunately, City Hall was a sturdy building. Aside from the jostling of the hurried evacuation, there were no casualties.

It was nearly four o’clock. As the delegates gathered in the square before City Hall, no one could be sure if there would be aftershocks. After a brief consultation, the day’s meeting was officially adjourned. If conditions permitted, the negotiations would continue the next day.

“Earthquakes have been frequent in Nolan for the past six months. This has become quite normal.”

Saks Luto, the mayor of Nolan, squeezed his way to the front of Queen Isabella’s retinue, wiping sweat from his brow as he offered his explanation. No one paid him any attention. The more superstitious among the crowd, however, took the earthquake on the first day of the Tri-King Summit as an omen that the talks were doomed to fail.

A grand reception had been planned for the evening to celebrate the summit's opening, but given the possibility of aftershocks, it too was postponed.

Queen Isabella invited Jenkins to join her for dinner at her residence. Jenkins would have much preferred to go home and eat with the young women there, but Miss Windsor, who stood beside him—and whose hand he had taken while leading her out of City Hall—accepted the invitation for him. Read complete versıon only at novel{f}ire.net

As she spoke with the Queen, Miss Windsor gave Jenkins a subtle shake of her head. He understood at once: this was an invitation he could not refuse. He had no choice but to nod his assent.

He returned home for a quick change of clothes before heading to the dinner. The mansion’s dining hall was immense, but only he and Queen Isabella sat at the table. The earthquake had apparently damaged the local gas lines, so the vast room was lit only by three candelabras on the table.

Seated at opposite ends of the long table, Jenkins and the silver-haired monarch could only make out a blurred, shadowy figure where the other sat. The servants moved like phantoms in the darkness, carefully stooped over as they wheeled serving carts to the table.

The scene felt like something from a horror story, set in a grim, old mansion. In the darkness, Jenkins slapped away his cat's paw as it crept toward the table, then picked up his knife and fork to slice into his steak.

He was the one to finally break the silence that had stretched since the dinner began. “So, why not light a few more candles?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“The moon will be out from behind the clouds soon. It will be bright enough then,” the old woman replied from the other end of the table, picking up her own cutlery. She was of an age where her teeth could no longer handle steak, so her meal was different from his.

“Then I'll be direct,” Jenkins said. “You invited me here for more than just dinner, I presume, Your Majesty?”