The general store Jenkins and his cat stepped into was a welco reprieve from the chilly spring air on the beach.
For a seaside general store, it sold a surprisingly eclectic mix of goods. Alongside the usual souvenirs and seafood, there was a jumble of odds and ends. Jenkins even spotted an exquisitely painted oil painting, frad and hanging on the western wall. He estimated it was worth about two pounds.
Jenkins was likely the first custor of the day, and the shopkeeper's enthusiastic welco made him feel a little awkward, as he'd only planned on browsing. Seeing that most of the items were cheap trinkets costing less than a shilling, he decided he might as well buy sothing small.
"Hmm... do you have any glass marbles? About this big..."
He shaped his hands into a sphere, roughly the size of the [Life Pearl]. The marble was ant to be a new toy for Chocolate, a distraction to keep the cat away from the ring that sealed the Black Stone of Calamity.
In this day and age, glassmaking was a sophisticated industry; a glass marble wasn't about to be priced like spices or gold.
The technique for embedding patterns inside the glass wasn't yet perfected, however. The only toy like that Jenkins had ever seen belonged to Dolores.
The [Life Pearl] was much larger than a typical marble, and though the shopkeeper promised to search, he ca up empty-handed after a few minutes of rummaging. While he was looking, another custor ca in, bought up nearly all the miscellaneous items in the store, packed them into a large crate, and left.
Since there were no marbles of the right size, Jenkins settled on buying a new fire poker. The one at the antique shop was getting old, so a replacent would be nice.
"That man who was just in," the shopkeeper explained, "he buys up old goods, fixes them up, and sells them off. Targets all the little shops in the city."
The shopkeeper explained as he counted out Jenkins's change. Preoccupied with his cat, Jenkins just humd in acknowledgnt.
"I've sold him all sorts of things," the shopkeeper continued, "bones that washed ashore, soone's old fruit platter, odd-shaped rocks from the fields. He's got a real knack for turning junk like that into sothing worth selling..."
"Uh-huh."
Jenkins nodded, his finger playfully sparring with the cat's paw. It was more a ga than a fight, though it was hard to say who was indulging whom.
"Hmm?"
A few seconds passed before a familiar phrase finally clicked.
"A fruit platter?"
"That's right. Last year, a thief stole a load of junk from so old gentleman living alone. That fellow never leaves empty-handed; he'd rather walk off with garbage than with nothing at all."
The shopkeeper didn't seem to mind revealing his sources. In truth, it didn't matter if Jenkins knew; it was common practice, after all.
"Was it this one?"
Even knowing the odds were slim, Jenkins had to try. He cut the shopkeeper off, reached into his pocket, and used [Psychography] to instantly create a photorealistic drawing of his fruit platter.
He passed the drawing over along with a one-pound note, which was enough to ensure the shopkeeper's enthusiastic cooperation.
"Looks about right, but that was last year, so my mory's a bit hazy. You looking for the platter? Sorry, but the thief who stole it died during that Silver Vertigo business last year."
He said apologetically.
"No, I'm not looking for the thief..."
Jenkins's gaze unfocused as he tried to process his incredible luck. Just when he thought the trail had gone cold, a new lead about the fruit platter had practically fallen into his lap. He'd never held out much hope that the platter's original owner knew about its special properties, so he hadn't bothered investigating further after the trail died at the first junk shop. To think the clue would co to him...
"The old man who lives alone... the platter's original owner. Where does he live?"
He slid another banknote across the counter. The shopkeeper shot him a look, raised an eyebrow, and held up two fingers. Jenkins added a second note.
The shopkeeper promptly pulled a black ledger from under the counter, flipped through it for a mont, and pointed to an address for Jenkins.
Jenkins morized the address and left. It was for a rental apartnt near Maidenhaven Road, clear on the other side of the city and far from Pops Antique Shop. He decided he'd check it out when he had so free ti; there was no rush.
He was a little late getting to Pops Antique Shop because of his morning stroll with the cat, but Papa Oliver didn't say a word. As long as Jenkins wasn't off causing trouble, he didn't really care what ti he showed up.
Papa Oliver also shared a curious piece of news: the Church had discovered that Miss Knight was growing dragon scales.
"Hmm?"
Jenkins reacted with surprise. "What, did the Church spy on Miss Knight in the bath?"
"How did you arrive at that conclusion?"
Papa Oliver looked like he wanted to smack Jenkins with his newspaper. He took a breath and continued:
"Miss Knight noticed sothing unusual about her skin and ca to the Church for help. As it happened, Capet was there and recognized it as a rare case of atavism, sothing she'd encountered at the Church of All Things and Nature. The scale-like markings on Celtic Knight's skin were almost certainly dragon scales, so we ran so more thorough tests."
Papa Oliver shrugged, signaling that was all he knew.
Miss Knight and Miss Capet had both been his companions during the adventure in the Mirror World, though only Capet had made it to the very end with him. Capet had suspected that Knight and the huntress, Miss Warfield—both of whom had left the party early—had discovered sothing important there. Jenkins hadn't put much stock in the idea at the ti.
But now, considering that Miss Knight's ancestral bloodline had awakened right after she left the Mirror World...
"How is she doing now? Miss Knight, I an."
"She's under observation in the Evergreen Forest. The Church of Sun and Justice has been notified and they'll be coming to handle it. A dragon bloodline is an incredibly valuable thing, after all."
Papa Oliver went back to his newspaper, sounding unconcerned.
"Strange, isn't it? You go decades without a single case of ancestral awakening, and now suddenly there are two."
Papa Oliver muttered to himself. Jenkins assud the second case he was referring to was that poor woman who'd drunk Pompey's potion. The cat, however, knew he was actually talking about a certain foolish man.
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