During their gathering, while Alexia was quizzing Julia on her recent progress in ancient literature, Dolores shared an amusing bit of news with Jenkins.
As the kingdom's capital, Ruen was a magnet for nobles of all stripes, both the industrious and the idle. Most had children, which ant the city was also ho to a great number of young noblewon with far too much ti on their hands.
Jenkins was a rising star in the literary world, his fa having spread across the entire continent, and Ruen was certainly no exception. Because of this—and, of course, more importantly, because of his handso features—a group of young ladies who admired the author had reportedly launched a fundraising campaign. They hoped to gather enough money to invite him to Ruen to give a lecture.
"Hmm? Crowdfunding?"
"Sorry, what did you say?"
Alexia didn't understand the word Jenkins had just coined. She tilted her head, silently prompting him for an explanation.
"Never mind, I didn't say anything," Jenkins mused. "But why would they think that just having money would be enough to make travel halfway across the continent to Ruen?"
Jenkins considered even a business trip to the nearby city of Shire a hassle, let alone a journey to the far-off Ruen.
"The truly interesting part," Dolores explained, "is that it's not just the young ladies who want to invite you to Ruen. The rchants of the Hamparvo Kingdom are also eager to hear you speak. However, given the current complex international situation, an official diplomatic invitation is out of the question. That's why people are hoping to find another way."
But no matter the invitation, Jenkins had no plans to visit Ruen as an ordinary citizen anyti soon. His life had certainly beco much more tranquil since the incident with the Skull Sword, but all signs pointed to one conclusion: leaving Nolan right now would be an extrely foolish decision.
The gathering lasted until eleven, and it was deep into the night when Jenkins finally departed from Ruen. A week hadn't been long enough for Dolores to uncover anything about Papa Oliver's forr apprentice, so Jenkins told her not to expend too much energy on the matter. He was only asking out of simple curiosity.
He was back in Ruen only a few minutes later, finding Alexia in her carriage on the journey ho.
Jenkins hesitated for only a mont before leaning in and kissing her. Spurred on by recent events, he was certainly becoming more forward.
Having finally co to terms with his feelings for the won in his life, he felt he shouldn't wait for them to make the first move. He needed to be the one to reach out. And though Alexia was in Ruen, she was, in a sense, the one he was "closest" to. That was why he had sought her out again after the gathering.
Alexia could clearly see that Jenkins's romantic life had undergone a dramatic shift, but she didn't press him for details. In the end, Jenkins couldn't contain himself and confessed the details of his "eventful life." Alexia offered no judgnt on such romantic entanglents, but simply asked in astonishnt:
"You hid in the closet on two separate occasions, and you did absolutely nothing either ti?"
"ow~"
Chocolate chid in, having apparently been pondering the very sa question.
"Oh, my dear Jenkins," she teased, "are you a Saint or a saint?"
"Well..."
Jenkins wasn't sure how to respond, but fortunately, Alexia didn't seem to require an answer. She pulled him into a passionate kiss, and he didn't leave the city until her carriage had co to a stop.
"I knew you wouldn't stay."
The petite woman muttered, clutching her small handbag.
Wednesday morning, Jenkins was once again jolted awake by a rooster's crow. But the bird never finished its call; the sound cut off abruptly, as if soone had clamped a hand over its beak.
Jenkins raised a hand, draping the back of it over his eyes without getting out of bed. He was exhausted. As soon as the aborted crow faded, he drifted back into a heavy sleep. But it felt as if only monts had passed before he was awakened again, this ti by his cat.
Jenkins could ignore the cat, of course, but he knew the consequences. Chocolate would assu he had died in his sleep and proceed to nudge, push, and eventually claw at him until he moved. It had happened before. And any attempt to scold the cat would inevitably fail in the face of its wide, innocent eyes.
He sighed softly, stared at the ceiling for a mont, then climbed out of bed.
"You're certainly punctual."
Glancing at the clock, Jenkins saw it was just six in the morning and muttered to himself.
"ow~"
The cat, apparently oblivious to his sarcasm, owed again and rubbed affectionately against his hand.
"I wasn't complinting you."
He said while slipping on his slippers, ready to start the day with a trip to the washroom.
"ow~"
Chocolate couldn't be bothered with any of that. It let out a soft ow, a sound that clearly ant it expected to be carried downstairs to the dining table.
The tedious morning began with this tedious task, and Jenkins expected it would be just another tedious day. He was wrong. A little after nine, Captain Bincy burst into the antique shop and urged Jenkins to follow him to the church to help with a dical ergency.
Jenkins had been recruited as a Scribe precisely because of his talent for healing, but since becoming a Saint, the Church had rarely called upon him to serve as a dic.
The incident was severe. A squad of Scribes, on a mission to retrieve a dangerous object, had lost their hands in a fight with an enemy. There were four victims in all. Their opponent was a humanoid aberration that seed to possess the bizarre ability to sever a person's hands from a distance, provided certain conditions were t.
Jenkins couldn't be sure if it was the result of an ability or an artifact's effect, but he knew one thing for certain: within the entire diocese, he was the only one capable of regenerating severed limbs.
The wounded had received first aid to stanch the bleeding before their retreat, so their lives weren't in imdiate danger. When Jenkins arrived at the church, a brief examination revealed no strange energies or foreign substances on the wounds that might hinder regeneration.
"No problem. I can heal them."
Upon hearing his conclusion, the n in the beds and the onlookers standing beside them all broke into expressions of delighted surprise.
Though his Life Pearl had been destroyed in the battle with the Skull Sword, Jenkins's healing powers hadn't diminished. Forcing a human limb to regrow was far more difficult than achieving a similar effect on a plant, but it wasn't impossible.
Healing all four of the wounded took the entire day. By the ti the last Scribe flexed his newly ford wrists, declaring he couldn't feel any difference from before, the sun was already a fiery glow on the distant horizon.
Jenkins let out a long sigh. He wasn't drained of energy, but he had been sitting for far too long, and his body felt stiff. He stood, gave a long stretch, and then gently woke the cat that had been napping beside him all day.
"Wake up~"
He gently poked Chocolate's head.
"ow~"
Chocolate raised its paw and batted Jenkins's hand aside.
He accepted their gratitude, rembering that it was Wednesday, which ant he had his evening class. He wouldn't have to leave the church; he could just have dinner and then start his arithtic lesson. Surrounded by a grateful crowd, he was escorted from the building. As he stepped outside, he saw two diviners standing in the garden, their faces turned toward the setting sun.
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