Chapter 1810: Chapter 1810

In the end, the musicians insisted on a written agreement. Paper was promptly produced, and two copies were drawn up, detailing the terms Jenkins had accepted and the musicians' pledge to fully support the Believers of Lies. After both parties reviewed the documents, the musicians signed by drawing the holy emblem of the God of Music, the "Wondrous Musical Score"—a highly formal practice for any church or religious order.

When it was Jenkins's turn, however, he realized he didn't have a holy emblem. After a moment's thought and a brief hesitation, he wrote out his name, "Jenkins," in the blocky, angular script of his former world.

"Is this the holy emblem of the God of Lies?" Hathaway asked, her voice laced with suspicion. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on NovєlFіre.net

"Of course not," Jenkins replied. "This is far more reliable than any emblem."

Hathaway looked like she wanted to press the matter, but one of the other musicians stopped her. The woman carefully folded the document and put it away, leaving Jenkins, who had prepared a whole host of explanations, rather perplexed. He couldn't quite figure out how he'd won their trust so easily.

It was only much later that he learned from Hathaway that the so-called "Score Scribes" were vessels cultivated by the Music Cult in each generation, prepared for the descent of the God of Music. Only then did he begin to suspect that the woman had seen something more in his signature than just a name.

Fidektri etiquette didn't include the tradition of sharing a meal after signing an important agreement, but Jenkins felt compelled by courtesy to invite them all for a late supper anyway.

He could afford to be so generous because he was certain the musicians would refuse. So when they did, he feigned disappointment but was inwardly pleased, promising that once the negotiations with the Church concluded, the Believers of Lies, as hosts in Nolan, would be sure to invite them to the Royal Opera House to enjoy a performance from the finest box.

"That won't be necessary," Hathaway retorted. "You should worry about your own business first. A friend of mine owns shares in the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe. If you actually manage to pull off what you've promised, I'll be the one inviting you to the Royal Opera House."

"Then you'll just have to wait and see, ladies," he declared with a smile. "It won't be long before you witness an even greater demonstration of my sincerity."

He said this, feeling a pang of unease at his deception, but another thought quickly came to mind.

"Speaking of which," he asked, "how long do you all intend to stay in Nolan?"

"Most of us have no intention of leaving," Miss Bernreuter, the high priestess, replied. "Whatever the outcome of the negotiations, we wish to remain here and witness the end of days."

said Miss Bernreuter, the "High Priestess."

"Don't you realize the danger in Nolan?"

"Of course we do," Miss Bernreuter said calmly. "But this is the end of an epoch. We have already decided. When the final day comes, those of us who choose to stay will gather to perform a dirge for the passing of the Eighteenth Epoch. It will be a grand ritual, a requiem for the dead and the dying. You are welcome to attend. The followers of Music rarely congregate in such numbers; we have not performed a ritual of this scale for many years."

Her words were met with murmurs of agreement from the other musicians. Even Hathaway seemed intent on participating in the ceremony.

Jenkins couldn't quite grasp the artists' way of thinking, but he had another matter to address.

"Since you're staying in Nolan," he proposed, "then if the end truly comes, let's face whatever unknown horror awaits us together."

His first encounter with the Difference Engine had taught him the value of the musicians' support, even if they weren't front-line combatants.

"That's certainly not a problem."

"You did just say you would propose a joint front against the apocalypse during your talks with the Church. It would naturally be better for all of us to stand together. And we have great confidence in the fighting prowess of the Believers of Lies."

Jenkins wasn't surprised that Miss Stevel was pleased to see them cooperating.

With all matters settled, the two groups left the opera house together. They had timed their meeting perfectly; the previous performance had just concluded, allowing them to melt into the crowd of departing patrons and quickly lose sight of one another.

The crowd was thick, as Nolan had recently seen a considerable influx of nobles and merchants. Jenkins moved with the flow, his cat tucked away, wondering if he should ask Julia to prepare a late meal when he got home to celebrate the successful negotiations.

Just then, the roar of a great beast echoed from the east again. The people around him heard it, of course, and began to murmur amongst themselves. But the sound was distant, and with the recent spate of strange occurrences, no one panicked.

Miss Bevanna had already assured him that the Church was fully prepared to handle the dragon hunter, and his involvement wasn't needed. Thus, Jenkins felt no particular urge to go investigate the commotion.

Once clear of the crowd, he found a grove on the city's outskirts and summoned his unicorn. After an affectionate pat on its neck, he soared into the sky.

His white cat, thoroughly bored with the evening's affairs, was curled up in his pocket, yawning.

Despite the summer heat on the ground, the air at this altitude was chilly. A strange, acrid smell mingled with the wind, forcing a cough from Jenkins. He hunched lower over the unicorn's back, thinking that Nolan's air quality was steadily deteriorating.

The distance from the Royal Opera House back into the city wasn't great—certainly shorter than the trip from the Evergreen Forest.

But even on this short flight, he inevitably ran into trouble. Jenkins wasn't surprised. This was, after all, his normal life.

First came a distant roar, a sound brimming with fury. Then, a crimson glow flared in the misty sky ahead—a short burst of dragon fire that flashed and vanished.

The temperature plummeted abruptly, and snowflakes began to drift down from the sky. The flurries weren't heavy, however, materializing high in the air and likely going unnoticed by anyone on the ground.

"I have a very bad feeling about this."

He murmured to himself, urging the unicorn to halt its forward momentum and simply hover in place. Thin mist swirled around them, but they were high enough to see the twin moons and the stars above.

He put on his monocle and scanned his surroundings. The aura of a red dragon was rapidly approaching. It was like a locomotive, pulling a long train of black auras behind it. Following them were the auras of dozens of demigod Enchanters, and trailing them all was a haze of yellow spell-light.

The great dragon was hurtling almost directly toward him and his unicorn. As it closed in, the temperature plunged even more dramatically. A phantom cacophony, like the thunder of countless hooves on frozen earth, filled the air, and the thick stench of rust and blood assaulted his senses.

"I don't recall ever offending that dragon..."

Jenkins thought, patting the unicorn's back and guiding it into a dive to avoid the red dragon and the long "train" of pursuers. The creature obeyed instantly, plunging toward the ground below.