Chapter 175: Chapter 175

The ancient Sicari Kingdom was the most recent nation to unify the continent, and the three great kingdoms of today grew from its remains. Although the Sicari Kingdom fell long ago, the successor states that inherited most of its legacy have done an excellent job of preserving its art and culture.

Tapping his fingers on the table, the viscount looked at Jenkins, who sat opposite him. "That makes sense. Hmm, I hear you're working at an antique shop now, Mr. Williams."

"That's hardly a rumor, is it?"

Jenkins gestured to the two crates beside them, and the viscount shook his head apologetically.

"My apologies, my apologies. I was just trying to find the right way to broach the subject. I'm actually quite curious—is it true, as the rumors say, that you are favored by the Church of Knowledge and Books and are a candidate for bishop of the Nolan diocese? I heard the current bishop himself recommended you for the job."

The question was rather sensitive—in fact, exceedingly so for two people meeting for the first time.

Instead of answering, Jenkins simply raised his cup again.

"My apologies. I was merely curious."

The viscount shrugged. "But please, rest assured. I am merely an impoverished old nobleman with no ill intentions. Being bedridden for so long has caused my social skills to atrophy somewhat."

"It's nothing that tarnishes the honor of House Augustus. I've had health problems since childhood."

"I wish you good health, then."

Jenkins replied, though inwardly he had no desire to continue the conversation. But the viscount, it was clear, was eager to chat.

"Have you also been invited to the ball this weekend? The one at the sanatorium not far from here?"

"Yes, Miss Mikhail invited me."

Jenkins nodded, inwardly doubting that the frail, middle-aged man across from him was in any condition to attend an evening social event.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"Miss Mikhail told me that the guests would mostly be young people?"

An intriguing smile spread across the viscount's otherwise gentle face:

"If by Miss Mikhail you mean the daughter of Marquis Mikhail, then we are indeed speaking of the same ball. I've heard it was originally meant to be a simple social gathering, but certain prominent figures in the city seem to have taken a keen interest in the rumored up-and-coming writer from the Church of Knowledge and Books. As a result, the guest list keeps growing. I imagine that young writer is in for some... interesting encounters."

"Your Lordship, do you know something?"

The corner of Jenkins's mouth twitched. He glanced first at the footmen who were carefully moving the antiques, then turned back to the viscount's expectant face and asked his question.

Augustus immediately beamed with satisfaction. Though nearly forty, he had the delighted expression of a child.

"I know nothing at all. Ahem, my apologies. We're just having a simple chat... The authority of a diocesan bishop in an Orthodox Church is by no means inferior to that of a typical nobleman or official, particularly in a populous city like Nolan. It has always been customary to make contact with promising young people years in advance. I hear that writer is quite gifted. I imagine he understands these things, yes?"

Jenkins gave a dry laugh, wondering what Viscount Augustus's motive was for telling him all this.

According to the background check Jenkins had done, the viscount was exactly as he'd introduced himself: an impoverished old nobleman. He was unlikely to be a spokesman or a frontman for any other party. Ruling out the possibility that the man was simply mad, Jenkins concluded he might genuinely just find it all amusing.

One should never speak too freely with those one barely knows; baring one's soul could bring trouble, even disaster. Jenkins understood this well enough, so he didn't press the topic further.

The viscount brought up several other topics—the upcoming parliamentary elections, a scandal involving Marquis Mikhail, the progress in the murder investigation of Duke Francis—but when he found that Jenkins merely listened without offering any opinions, his own enthusiasm waned, and he trailed off.

He looked somewhat disappointed. Perhaps the long-bedridden patient was truly starved for conversation, or perhaps there was a deeper meaning to his probing.

The inventory of the two crates was soon complete. Jenkins and the old butler performed a final check against the list, and Jenkins signed his name at the bottom.

He was about to take his leave, but the viscount stopped him.

"Pops Antique Shop also purchases antiques, I presume? We found some bronze pieces while tidying up the estate. If Mr. Oliver has the time, would you please ask him to come take a look?"

Jenkins agreed cautiously. Despite just having sold a large collection of antiques, he suspected the viscount's financial situation was far from robust—certainly not as sound as his own, with eight thousand pounds cash in hand. Selling off ancestral heirlooms to make ends meet was a common way for fallen nobles to maintain a semblance of dignity. Those who lacked the ability to expand their family fortunes or navigate the social currents were destined to be swept away by the times. The more discerning aristocrats, however, had long since recognized the transformation that the power of steam was bringing to the world.

In an era of transformation, some are always crushed beneath the wheels of progress.

"Why don't I take a look now? That way, I'll be able to give Pops a proper report when I get back."

The viscount considered this for a moment and agreed. He nodded, instructing the old butler to show Jenkins the items. His own health was failing him, and he needed to rest. Thıs text ıs hosted at novel-fire.net

The old butler led the way with Jenkins, followed by the footmen carrying the two resealed wooden crates. They rounded the staircase, proceeded down a corridor, and opened the door to a spacious room.

The large doors, which a maid was wiping down, were coated in dust, but hints of their original gilt still shone through. The sheer size of the estate was a testament to the former prosperity of House Augustus. It was a shame that this generation had dwindled to a single, sickly heir.

The viscount apparently had no children—at least, that was what Pops's investigation had turned up. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, this ancient family line would soon come to an end.

It was unclear what purpose the room had once served, but now it was being used as a storeroom for valuables.

While the butler directed the footmen where to place the crates, Jenkins surveyed the items arranged around the room. There were indeed quite a few decorative pieces in the style of the ancient Sicari Kingdom; Augustus's fondness for such things was clearly genuine. This meant his choice to meet and speak with Jenkins here hadn't been a deliberate setup.