Chapter 369: Chapter 369

According to Miss Bevanna, aside from the murder of the opera troupe director, the other four incidents on the 31st all pointed, in an uncanny twist, to the followers of the New God. Jenkins couldn't help but marvel at the strange workings of fate.

The Church's current theory was that the followers were few in number and operated primarily out of Nolan City. Their organizational structure was remarkably streamlined, with each member having a specific role, and all of them were high-level Enchanters. Combined with the New God's own displays of power, it was reasonable to assume that all his followers were adept at distorting fate and resisting divination.

Jenkins had nothing to add. As long as the investigation never led back to him, he wouldn't breathe a word of protest, even if the public came to believe the followers of the New God had two heads, eight arms, and a habit of spitting on the street.

"On that note, there's something else I needed to see you about."

Miss Bevanna had already returned the casket to the book and re-fastened the chains. With a snap of her fingers, the traces of golden divine energy on the wall vanished. Jenkins, taking his cue, opened the door and scooped up his cat.

It looked rather cross and kept trying to bat at his face with its paws.

"The Church has put me in charge of your combat training. My original plan was to find a captain-level Enchanter skilled in combat to be your instructor, but recent events have made it clear that our city will face even greater dangers. Being proficient in combat has become a matter of great importance."

She glanced up at Jenkins.

Jenkins hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more. His fingers began to unconsciously scratch under Chocolate's chin.

The temperature inside the room was pleasant. Steam pipes running through the walls supplied a steady warmth, so both of them had removed their coats.

Jenkins was dressed in a white shirt, a dark sweater Mary had knitted for him, and a quilted vest over it all. He rarely wore that particular sweater, as Chocolate expressed extreme displeasure whenever he tried to hold her while wearing it.

"Do you doubt my abilities?"

he denied hastily, then added with a concerned look, "I was just thinking... combat training inevitably involves a fair bit of physical contact. I was worried it might... harm your reputation."

Miss Bevanna looked at Jenkins as if he were some rare, exotic creature. A small smile played on her lips as she shook her head.

"Your concern is... amusing. It's quite alright, young gentleman. I'm not bothered by such things."

Jenkins gave a slow nod, raising no further objections.

When the conversation somehow veered toward his romantic life, Jenkins promptly announced he had other matters to attend to and took his leave. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel※fire.net

He all but fled from Miss Bevanna's office, nearly colliding with a young nun in the hallway. Blushing, she informed him that Bishop Parrold wished to see him.

Jenkins normally met with the bishop once a week, but due to the time loop on the 31st, it had actually been closer to half a month since he'd last seen him.

If memory served, the bishop had been away last week, traveling with a group of priests to preach in a rural town. Yet he looked to be in excellent spirits now—no small feat for a man of his age.

The bishop, dressed in simple white liturgical robes with a ring of office on his right hand, was waiting for him in a deserted side chapel.

The chapel was quiet, with holy symbols and statues bathed in the sunlight streaming through the windows. The space was only opened on weekends for sermons, lectures, and blessings for the throng of congregants. On weekdays, almost no one besides the bishop was permitted inside.

The old man sat on a pew in the front row, his eyes closed as he prayed in a low voice. Jenkins quietly took a seat beside him, and once he recognized the bishop's prayer, he joined in.

With its long and storied history, the Orthodox Church possessed a vast collection of sacred texts, making it difficult to identify a single core scripture. In the current age, the Legacy Sage Church considered five books to be required reading for all its followers.

One of them was the *Gospel of the Sage*, with which Jenkins was most familiar. The one the bishop was using for his prayer this time, however, was the *Hagiography of Trishus*. It was less a book of doctrine and more a collection of stories—tales of legendary figures from the Church's history across the epochs—and was particularly popular with the younger faithful.

"Excellent. A young man ought to have such patience,"

the bishop remarked to Jenkins once their prayers were complete.

He nodded solemnly and joined the old man in making the final holy sign.

"I didn't summon you for anything too serious. The main reason is that the Kingdom has decided to award this year's Ritter Prize to you. The official announcement from the royal family will likely be made next week, but they've already given us advance notice."

"Oh? Does that mean I'll need to travel to Bel Diran?"

Professor Burns had mentioned the possibility before, so Jenkins didn't feign surprise.

"But of course. Or were you expecting the king to personally travel to Nolan to present you with your award?"

the bishop asked with an amused chuckle.

Jenkins just smiled and shook his head.

"And don't feel pressured. Your *Stranger's Story Collection* is selling across the entire continent. According to the information the Church has gathered, you're likely the most famous young author of the last decade. This award is well-deserved and has nothing to do with your standing in the Church. I'm proud of you, young man!"

the bishop explained. He stroked his beard, then added,

"However, there will likely be... other matters to attend to in Bel Diran. But don't you worry. The Holy See is right there in the capital; what great trouble could possibly arise? In any case, you should start preparing. Judging from previous years, the ceremony will take place in mid-November, so you can begin packing soon."

"Must I really go to Bel Diran?"

Jenkins was deeply reluctant to leave the city. It wasn't just his aversion to long journeys; sometimes, he had the distinct feeling that Nolan was the very center of the world.

"You must. This is an honor—a great one. You're still young, so you may not realize how many doors this award will open for you in the future,"

the bishop said, reaching out to gently tap him on the forehead.

"Is there something—or someone—here that you're so attached to? You'll only be gone for a week or so, it's not as if you're moving there permanently. Heh. Speaking of which, I'll have to arrange your etiquette lessons... Oliver tells me you've been growing rather close to a pair of noble ladies? The names were... Hersha and Mikhail, I believe?"