Chapter 172: Chapter 172

Jenkins whispered a reminder, deliberately stomping his boot on the ground to mask the sound.

The old man snorted softly and showed Jenkins what was in his hand. It was a thin silver plate etched with tiny runes, which Jenkins recognized as a silence talisman.

"You're still too young and inexperienced."

As they left the Oil Ink Mister Club, Papa Oliver was completely silent, lost in thought. He didn't seem to snap out of it until they turned from the alley onto a main road.

"Sorry," he said. "I was just thinking about something. I didn't expect we'd actually learn anything useful this time."

The two walked side by side. Jenkins turned up his collar to cover his mouth and asked quietly.

"Was any of that information valuable?"

Seeing a woman hurrying toward them, the pair immediately fell silent, waiting until she was well past before they resumed their conversation.

"The Church has long suspected that the defection of an Enchanter with the 'Master Craftsman' ability was the key factor behind this change. But those people from the Church of Creation and Machinery refused to say what really happened. I'm only just learning now that the defector took three Bestowals with them. That's a tremendous loss. No wonder they kept it under wraps. I can't believe Bides actually knew all this..."

The Sunday morning was still shrouded in a thin layer of smog as the city began to wake. Pedestrians and carriages gradually filled the streets. Walking some distance ahead of them was a gaunt, haggard-looking young man. He sniffled as he walked, looking unwell. The space between them was enough that they didn't have to worry about being overheard.

"So, do you know anything about C-08-2-2218? The clock."

"Never heard of it. The Twelve Orthodox Churches share information on Mysterious Objects by agreement, and information on Extraordinary items is partially shared. But Bestowals have always been top secret."

Papa Oliver answered distractedly, his eyes not on Jenkins but on a man standing at the corner ahead.

He wore a common black hat and a slightly grimy brown coat, leaning against the wall as if he had nothing better to do. More conspicuous, however, were his leather shoes, spattered with mud.

The man looked to be just over thirty, yet he carried a strangely world-weary air about him. He glanced in their direction, then slipped his right hand, which had been hanging loosely at his side, inside his coat.

Jenkins instinctively stopped walking, and Papa Oliver, who was beside him, halted as well. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novèlfire.net

he began uncertainly, then realized with a start that the man wasn't looking at them. His gaze was fixed on the gaunt, haggard man still walking ahead.

"He's not here for us."

Papa Oliver murmured, then his brow furrowed. "Oh no!"

But the words came too late. As the young man walked past, the man leaning against the wall moved. He unexpectedly clamped his left hand on the young man's back, while his right hand whipped out a dagger and plunged it straight into his stomach.

A noblewoman passing by in a carriage happened to witness the scene, and her shriek pierced the peaceful Sunday morning in Nolan City, staining it with a touch of gloom.

Due to the recent appearance of Femishue, the pirate king known as 'the Destroyer,' the Dock Area had become a high-priority patrol zone. It wasn't long after the attack that the entire street was cordoned off. Jenkins and Papa Oliver didn't have time to leave and were escorted to the police station, as they were among the few who had witnessed the entire event from start to finish.

But their luck held, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Papa Oliver had a great deal of influence. Worried about potential trouble, the two had come well-prepared for their outing and were both carrying genuine contraband, including guns.

But the inspector in charge of the case, a man named Black, greeted Papa Oliver with a cheerful smile:

"Mr. Oliver, I didn't expect to see you here."

He was a portly, middle-aged man with a full beard, dressed in a police uniform. The three stars on his shoulders indicated a rank of Superintendent, yet Papa Oliver had addressed him as Inspector.

Nolan City actually had two police headquarters of equal standing, a structure dictated by the city's unique position. The one on Stilwell Street in the Dock Area was known as Stilwell Yard; it was responsible for cases within the docklands and aboard passing ships, and sometimes coordinated with the navy. The other, located downtown, was called Carlfax Yard by the citizens and served as the traditional city police force, handling all cases within Nolan except for those in the Dock Area.

This street homicide had taken place in the Dock Area, which was why Jenkins and Papa Oliver were now on Stilwell Street. And Inspector Black was clearly an acquaintance of Papa Oliver.

"Black, it's been a while."

Papa Oliver nodded, his tone lukewarm. "What's all this about? Premeditated murder?"

He dove straight into the details of the case, which surprised Jenkins, who was sitting on a nearby bench. But Inspector Black didn't seem to mind in the slightest and began to explain, even with his colleagues working nearby.

"It's a straightforward case. The assailant is a Mr. Andrew, who lives on Rudy Avenue in the Sabine District. A few days ago, he was talked into spending a large sum of money—about a hundred pounds—on some supposedly valuable commemorative coins. But after he got them, he found that the wealthy merchant who'd promised to buy them had vanished. The seller was gone too, so..."

He shrugged, indicating that things had gone exactly as one might expect.

Papa Oliver asked. The inspector didn't answer right away. Instead, he stopped a young constable passing by, had him fetch a file, and handed it to the old man before continuing.

"The victim was the middleman, a Robert Coomb. After Mr. Andrew realized his investment had tanked, he came here to file a report. But based on the evidence, we could only rule it a failed investment on his part. We felt for the guy, but we couldn't make a fraud charge stick. What you're looking at is the file from his initial report. We never imagined Mr. Andrew would be so impulsive as to attack Coomb directly."

Papa Oliver nodded, glanced briefly through the file in his hands, and then passed it to Jenkins. Jenkins saw Inspector Black raise an eyebrow but offer no objection, so he began to read through it as well.