Chapter 434: Chapter 434

Bel Diran, during the months of the Traveler and Frostfall, was considerably warmer than coastal Nolan, but one still needed heavy clothing to ward off the chill. The bulk, however, did little to hinder Jenkins's agility; he was more than confident he could handle the boy before him.

"So, you want to test me?"

He raised his left hand and released the safety.

"Fine, then! Go ahead and shoot!"

The boy’s voice was defiant, showing no intention of backing down. It was a law of the streets—the first one to show weakness was the one who got devoured.

Jenkins smiled, the gun steady in his right hand. He beckoned with his left. "Give me back my wallet, answer one question, and we can pretend none of this ever happened."

The boy stared at him for a few seconds before tossing the wallet at Jenkins's feet.

"Good. My question is, what was that trick just now? It was truly incredible..."

"An old man taught me, because I gave him a piece of stale black bread!"

"So, can I find this old man?"

The boy's eyes darted around as he lowered his dagger. "Of course. I think he'll be at the bar on Greenland Avenue tonight—the biggest one there."

Keeping the gun raised, he bent down to retrieve his wallet. Chocolate, who had been perched on his shoulder, took the opportunity to leap gracefully to the ground.

"We've never met, have we?"

Jenkins asked softly.

The boy stood up straight and answered obediently.

Jenkins nodded again, flicked the safety back on, and lowered the gun. As he turned to leave, he ducked his head, narrowly avoiding a blade-like flash of white light that shot past him from behind. He spun around instantly, a sliver of light flicking out from the silver band coiled around his arm.

"You were too hasty."

He sighed, dragged the boy over to the wall, and covered the body with a garbage bag.

If the boy hadn't made such a vicious final move, Jenkins wouldn't have taken his life. He would have simply handed him over to the police, and the Church would have dealt with the unregistered Benefactor. But since the boy had shown such ruthlessness, Jenkins wasn't inclined to be merciful.

"Yes, nothing happened here today."

Muttering to himself, he headed for the mouth of the alley, Chocolate trotting obediently at his heels.

He had already resolved to steer clear of any trouble in Bel Diran, so he planned to report everything that had transpired as soon as he returned to the church that evening. Treasures, gangs, conspiracies—none of it had anything to do with a writer from Nolan. He already had enough on his plate.

In the week Jenkins had been away, Nolan had hardly been peaceful. There was the aftermath of the plague to manage, the motley crew of fiends from the battle in the Evergreen Forest to handle, and even new illegal organizations that, having caught wind of the chaos, had moved in. All of it needed to be addressed.

Jenkins had temporarily escaped that whirlpool of trouble, and he had no intention of getting dragged into some major incident in a new city. The rıghtful source is NoveI★Fire.net

He took his cat to visit a few art galleries and bought some postcards and other portable souvenirs for his friends. Afterward, he ducked into a restaurant Mrs. Caroline had recommended for a meal.

Once both man and cat had eaten their fill, the sky began to grow dark. The distant sun dipped below the horizon, its setting rays casting a brilliant golden glow on the roof tiles of the building across the street.

Perhaps it was the changing light, but the fog seemed to thicken as night fell. Of course, it was nothing like the oppressive mists of Nolan.

Now that he was in Bel Diran, Papa Oliver wouldn't let him leave without handling a little business. The world of antique dealing was full of hidden intricacies; you couldn't seal a deal based on a few letters alone.

He carried a few photographs from Papa Oliver for an appointment with a prominent merchant who resided in the royal capital. If this deal went through, his commission would be enough to buy five large geese for himself—and another five for Chocolate—come the end of the year.

The meeting point the great merchant, Suares Rodriguez, had arranged was not some grand estate or expensive restaurant, but a rented apartment just off the capital's Arts Avenue.

The apartment building was three stories tall. Aside from the ground floor and basement, which housed the landlord's family and three other tenants, the remaining two floors were under a long-term lease to the merchant.

The morning paper, purchased cheaply from a newsboy, even had a story about him: he had recently secured the development rights to a vast mining area in the kingdom's southeast. As for why such a renowned figure was renting an apartment here, Jenkins didn't much care. All that mattered was getting his hands on that commission.

After dinner, he and Chocolate strolled around a nearby square, watching as the gas lamps encircling it flickered to life. The cardinal had told him that his suggestion had been passed on to the right people. It was considered an excellent idea, one that could not only advance the installation of public facilities across the continent but also spur the rapid growth of the advertising industry and diversify the proselytizing methods of the Orthodox Church.

When Jenkins arrived, Mr. Rodriguez was already waiting, seated by a warm stove with a book in his hands. He lacked the imposing air one might expect from a great merchant; on the contrary, the man seemed quite amiable. He initially addressed Jenkins as "Baron Williams," but Jenkins insisted they dispense with such formalities.

Papa Oliver's antiques were genuine. In fact, aside from being priced a little high, Jenkins could find no fault with the goods. Rodriguez apparently felt the same, for after confirming the items were exactly what he was looking for, he immediately began to negotiate the price.

They negotiated until eight o'clock that evening before finally settling on a preliminary price for the major transaction. All that remained was for the merchant to send a trusted subordinate to Nolan with the payment and have the antiques escorted back to Bel Diran. Then, the deal would be done.

The middle-aged man was quite talkative, though he prudently steered clear of sensitive topics like the Church and the nobility. After they signed the contract, he summoned a servant to bring a bottle of wine, proposing a small celebration.

Although the writer himself didn't usually drink, the success of this deal was certainly worth celebrating.

"How are you planning to get back?"

He asked Jenkins, swirling the wine in his glass. "It's gotten rather late. Should I call a carriage for you?"

"Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you."

Jenkins didn't refuse, as he wasn't sure if it was as easy to find a carriage in Bel Diran at night as it was in Nolan.