Chapter 211: Chapter 211

“So, what's the plan?”

Jenkins and Audrey slipped into a sweet shop on the corner, settling into a table with a good vantage point. It was his treat. Chocolate, his cat, adored sweets—even preferred his milk sweetened. Jenkins stared at the small slice of cream cake before him, a hefty seven shillings, and an image of Chocolate sneaking into the kitchen flashed through his mind.

“Divination can only offer guidance,” she said softly. “It can't grant wishes like that Unfortunate Wishing Tree.”

She didn't seem concerned in the slightest, her attention instead captured by the cake. Even though Jenkins was paying, she had only ordered a small, reasonably priced slice and a cup of black tea. Orıginal content can be found at NoveI~Fire.net

“Should we head back, or wait here?” Jenkins asked. “I mean, the man has to come out of there eventually.”

Having committed to tailing the man, Jenkins wasn't about to give up so easily.

“Seeing as the divination yielded a favorable outcome...”

Noticing Jenkins's raised eyebrow, she amended, “Or an unfavorable one. Either way, things won't conclude so simply. I have a feeling a turning point is just around the corner.”

Even in the middle of a stakeout, she maintained a serene smile, looking more as if she were out for a leisurely stroll.

“Do you know Papa Oliver?” he asked, changing the subject. “He's my mentor.”

He casually brought up the topic.

“I do,” she replied. “I met him when I was a child.”

So Papa Oliver really is well-connected, Jenkins thought. It seems everyone with any kind of standing knows him.

“In that case, do you know if he had any other apprentices before me? I've heard bits and pieces, but Papa Oliver refuses to elaborate.”

He idly stirred a sugar cube into his cup. He didn't usually drink coffee; that was a habit of the body's original owner, not something his former, poorer self could afford. He had only ordered it this time because it was the most reasonably priced option on the menu.

“Apprentices?” she mused. “Yes, I suppose that's a fitting term.”

Audrey gently lifted her cup, gazing at the dregs of tea leaves settled at the bottom. “If Papa Oliver is unwilling to speak of it, then it would hardly be appropriate for an outsider like me to do so.”

“So, what happened to them? Are they working for the Church? Or on some secret mission?”

“Well, I'm not a believer in the Legacy Sage, so I'm not privy to your Church's internal assignments.”

Audrey pursed her lips, tucking a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear.

“But I do know one thing. Mr. Oliver's second student—or apprentice, if you will—died during the Scourge of the Undead thirty years ago. He was a hero, as were all the sacrifices made by the Orthodox Churches during that time. A true hero.”

“Scourge of the Undead?”

Jenkins blinked, repeating the phrase in his mind. Then another detail struck him. “Thirty years ago?”

He looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Pardon me.”

He lowered his voice, concerned they might be overheard. “We can discuss the Scourge and Papa Oliver in a moment, but... thirty years ago? Is that the same thirty years ago as the Great Plague?”

The Great Plague he was referring to was the very one that had forced his father, Robert Williams, to flee his distant hometown and settle here.

“Yes. Has Papa Oliver never mentioned it? The Scourge of the Undead began with a terrifying Cursed Item: A-12-1-0044, the Skull Sword of the Departed Soul. The sword's history can be traced all the way back to the Third Epoch. It had gained its own consciousness, seized control of an Enchanter who stumbled upon it, and used its power to raise a horrifying army of the undead.”

Seeing the look of horror on Jenkins's face, she offered a reassuring smile. “Don't worry. This ‘army’ was only a few thousand strong. They were barely organized before the Orthodox Churches cornered them in a small city called Dais and annihilated them. The terrible plague that swept the continent that year was actually a corpse plague, unintentionally spread by the sword as it created its undead soldiers. The sword and its army inflicted immense damage on that generation of Enchanters, and while mortals were spared the blade thanks to our intervention, they couldn't escape the pestilence.”

Jenkins had really been startled by the phrases “Scourge of the Undead” and “sentient sword.” He only relaxed once he realized the event wasn't quite what he'd been imagining.

Just as he was about to ask about the sword's current whereabouts and whether there were more secrets to the story, he spotted a carriage bearing the Mikhail family crest pull up to the club's main entrance.

He instinctively started to raise a hand to hide his face before remembering he was still in disguise.

The person who emerged was not one of the two noblewomen Jenkins knew, but a middle-aged man with a stern expression and a commanding presence.

He was bundled in a large overcoat. He handed his ruby-encrusted cane to the doorman who came to greet him, then hurried inside the club, followed by several grim-faced attendants.

Audrey, sitting across from Jenkins, propped her chin on her hand and gazed in that direction. “What do you suppose Marquis Mikhail is here for? A social call? A rendezvous with a mistress? Or something else entirely?”

As the powerful nobleman in charge of the navy, Marquis Mikhail was a frequent subject of the newspapers, so it was no surprise Audrey recognized him. Combined with the recent scandal that had been the talk of the town, the marquis was arguably one of the most famous men in the city at the moment.

Jenkins had not only seen the man from afar at a recent party but had also discussed the scandal with Hathaway. He'd expected her to be tactful for Briny Mikhail's sake and drop the subject, but the red-haired young woman had instead conspiratorially shared everything Briny had told her, concluding with a warning for Jenkins not to become such a man.

That alone told Jenkins that Briny Mikhail's relationship with her father was strained. Otherwise, Hathaway would never have spoken so freely about such a private matter at a social gathering, even if Jenkins was the only one within earshot.

“The carriage bears his family crest, so he can't be here on private business,”

Jenkins answered, still looking toward the club. “And I've heard from a friend that the marquis usually meets his mistress at an estate outside the city... Of course, that's assuming he hasn't found a new one.”

“Oh? You know about such things?” Audrey teased. “I was under the impression that Mr. Williams was the type who preferred quiet study to social gossip.”

Jenkins offered no reply. It was a conversational minefield he had no intention of crossing.