Chapter 490: Chapter 490

It was Monday, a workday, but with the morning drawing to a close, a considerable number of the faithful had come to the church for prayer and confession.

After submitting his two reports, Jenkins headed down a corridor toward the back of the building. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a familiar little girl who was rushing toward him.

It was the Young Flower Seller Jenkins had once helped. He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and her face had clearly filled out. She no longer had the gloomy, downcast air she'd worn when selling flowers on the street.

Since he still didn't know her name, Jenkins could only offer a simple greeting in return. The girl's appearance, however, altered his plans.

“You're in luck! I was just over there...”

She pointed toward the cluster of buildings behind them.

“Mr. Rodeney, the director of the Theological Research Hall, is looking for you. A Mr. Benz is already preparing to leave.”

“No, I just overheard the two gentlemen talking by the door!”

the girl replied brightly.

“Alright, I understand. Thank you.”

He was about to head off at once, but felt that would be impolite. Instead, he asked:

“So, are you settling in well here at the church?”

“Life here is wonderful. Thank you, sir.”

She clearly knew who was responsible for her good fortune.

“That's good to hear. If you ever need anything, please let me know. I come to the church to pray often.”

With that, he smiled and bid the young girl farewell. He made a mental note to ask for her name next time; it would be far too awkward to meet again and still not know it.

Hearing the voice from within, Jenkins turned the cold metal handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

“Oh, Mr. Williams! That was quick!”

Mr. Rodeney, who had been bent over his paperwork, looked up in surprise to see it was Jenkins. He set down his pen and rose with a smile to greet him.

“I heard you'd sent Mr. Benz to find me. A girl from the choir happened to overhear you at the door and ran into me by the new oil painting at the corner...”

“How fortunate. Please, have a seat. I've called you here today about a matter that has recently been concluded.”

Jenkins took off his greatcoat and sat on the sofa, letting Chocolate hop onto the backrest to play. Meanwhile, Mr. Rodeney returned to his desk, used a small key to open a safe built into the wall, and retrieved a red velvet box, no larger than the palm of his hand.

“The matter concerning the level-eight Enchanter, Constantine, in the Cheslan Kingdom was brought to a close last week. Mr. Williams, your performance was exemplary, and you've received high praise from both the Holy See and the local diocese...”

This sounded like a direct quote from an official dispatch sent from Bel Diran, and Mr. Rodeney delivered the words with a corresponding lack of emotion.

“...This incident has also brought great honor to the Nolan diocese, serving as a model case of inter-regional cooperation this year...”

Jenkins wasn't fond of such formulaic official language, but since the praise was directed at him, he listened attentively nonetheless.

Given Jenkins's current standing, a further promotion in status was out of the question, which made the material rewards all the more generous.

First was the church's Medal of Meritorious Contribution. It was a prestigious award for exceptional service, granted only to the faithful.

It was said that receiving a medal of this caliber from one of the Twelve Orthodox Churches meant you would never have to worry about going hungry again.

Jenkins planned to have it framed and hung in his living room alongside his other recent awards. It had been Papa Oliver's and Hathaway's suggestion, but he was beginning to worry he might run out of wall space.

On the secular side of things, the church gave him permission to publicly link this medal to his recent Ritter Prize, providing a plausible reason for the honor.

Beyond that, the Holy See had purchased an entire two-story city residence for him in Bel Diran. That was right—a basement, two full floors, and an attic, all his.

The residence was located near Spencer Square and had a considerable footprint. While it lacked a small garden like his current home, it was a gift, and Jenkins wasn't about to complain.

Mr. Rodeney handed the keys and property deeds to Jenkins. The church would hire professionals to look after and clean the house during his absence from Bel Diran. Whether he chose to live in it himself or rent it out for profit would be entirely his decision.

“It's an excellent location,” Mr. Rodeney advised. “You could even convert it into a commercial property.”

Jenkins nodded. He had no plans for any long journeys in the near future, so he could put the matter of the residence aside for now. He would decide what to do with it after consulting Papa Oliver and the others.

“A pity Bel Diran is so far away,” he thought. “If I had known, I would have left a spiritual lodestone there before I left.” The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the NoveIꜰire.net

Valuable as the property was, it was still a worldly possession. The true reward was inside the velvet box. Mr. Rodeney placed it on the coffee table and slid it toward him. As Jenkins carefully opened the lid, Chocolate peered over with curiosity.

Nestled in the lining was a delicate silver chain, coiled like a serpent. It was composed of small, interlocking oval links and didn't appear to be very long.

“We reviewed Constantine's collection but found nothing suitable for you,” Mr. Rodeney explained. “So we procured this item from the local diocese instead. It only just arrived this morning, which is why I've waited until now to tell you.”

He lifted the chain out, examining it with curiosity. It was too short to be a bracelet, yet too long for a keychain. But the brilliant spiritual aura it emitted under his gaze confirmed it was no ordinary object.

“B-07-5-7322. It's called the Short Chain of Dire Omens.”

As he spoke, he handed Jenkins a file, a clear sign that the church had already compiled extensive information on the object.

“It was originally an ordinary pocket watch chain, belonging to a minor nobleman in the 17th Epoch. There was nothing unusual about the nobleman himself, but his wife was a follower of a heretical god. After a sudden accident, a terrible disaster wiped out the nobleman's entire estate. When the church arrived, the only survivor was the nobleman's one-year-old son. Investigators from the Church of the Unlit Moon found this chain tucked into the outer layer of the infant's swaddling clothes.”