"My na is Jenkins Williams. I've written my address on this paper. If anyone from the Dead Man's Whip cos for you again, you can contact at this address. I'll help you."
Jenkins stood by the window, his expression solemn. The old elf's eyes fixed upon his handso face and slightly pointed ears. To elves, the features of a noble bloodline were unmistakable. While humans might not notice, to an elf, the difference between Jenkins's face and that of an ordinary elf was as vast as that between the sun and the moon.
The mont the old elf saw Jenkins's face clearly, he instinctively took a step back, his heart hamring in his chest. But he summoned his courage, forced himself to appear composed, and shook Jenkins's hand at the door as if nothing was amiss.
In truth, his left hand, hidden behind his back, trembled uncontrollably.
After Jenkins left, the old elf quickly returned to his room on the second floor. From the kitchen window, he watched Jenkins's figure disappear into the rain, a whirlwind of emotions churning within him that he couldn't begin to express.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the cat on the man's back... it reminded him of the Calamity from the old legends.
"Oh, Blessed Blossoms... grant your protection, and help understand the role I am to play in this destiny."
It was all he could say. In his heart, he sincerely hoped Jenkins would not have to seek him out again.
Although he had spent so ti at the old elf's ho, it was not yet eleven o'clock when he left the apartnt. Jenkins had taken a risk by revealing his true identity, but he had done so because he felt an imnse trust in the old elf.
It was an inexplicable trust, but Jenkins felt it all the sa.
Before lunch, Jenkins made his way to the black market to check for a reply from Mr. Black Cat. To his surprise, Mr. Black Cat had already finished investigating the estate owned by the Corpse Gentleman in Dullin. The current owner was a well-respected local nobleman, a viscount, it seed. He and his family had moved in earlier that year and had been living there normally ever since.
Mr. Black Cat hadn't found anything related to supernatural powers connected to them, but the timing of the property sale was indeed one week after the transaction in Nolan.
"Mr. Black Cat just arrived in Dullin, after all. It's impressive he managed to find out this much."
With that in mind, he asked the bar owner for a pen and paper and wrote a thank-you letter to send to Mr. Black Cat. He also planned to go to the post office to wire him so money and commission him to investigate Miss Stevel—Papa Oliver's forr apprentice.
In the letter, Jenkins also gave an account of the recent events in Nolan. Although Mr. Black Cat had left the city out of fear of the turmoil, he was still very much concerned with everything happening there.
After finishing the letter, he found the Huntress through the middleman known as Joker. Jenkins now knew her true identity: Miss Warfield, a follower of the Righteous God, the Lord of War.
Jenkins hadn't seen her since their adventure in the Mirror Realm had ended. The Huntress seed to be doing well—at least she, unlike Jenkins and Miss Capet, hadn't co face-to-face with that unspeakable horror.
His new commission was to pass on a ssage to the Orthodox Church: that there were more than five tattoos related to the "Exotic Tide." Any local branch in Nolan would do.
When Jenkins stated the contents of the commission, the Huntress thought for a mont that he had gone mad. But for the sake of the gold pounds, she didn't turn down the job.
"This is simple enough. I'll take care of it this evening."
"The sooner, the better. This is urgent."
He said this and made to get up from the sofa, but then he rembered the Mirror Realm and asked tentatively:
"Oh, one more thing. I'm also looking for information about the Mirror Realm. I heard so news related to it has surfaced in Nolan."
Since Miss Knight was showing signs of a bloodline awakening, it stood to reason that the Huntress, Miss Warfield, who had also left the Mirror Realm early, might have gained sothing extraordinary as well. Jenkins was just probing; he didn't actually expect her to sell that kind of information.
"I only take commissions. If you want to buy information, go find Joker."
Just as he'd expected. It was disappointing, but not surprising.
After that, he went to the post office and wired the money to Mr. Black Cat as a token of his gratitude. It was lunchti when he left, so Jenkins and Chocolate ate at a nearby restaurant. As they were leaving, the fine drizzle that had lasted all morning finally stopped.
The sky, however, remained overcast, and there was a high chance it would start raining again in the afternoon.
Jenkins hailed a carriage at the street corner to take him back to St. George Avenue. He picked up the case of potions Old Jack had given him when he left Shire City, then had the driver take him to the estate of Earl Hersha.
After he rang the bell at the gate, a servant quickly ca to open it. Upon learning the visitor was Jenkins, Earl Hersha, who happened to be ho, ca to greet him personally.
"I just wanted to invite Hathaway for afternoon tea."
Jenkins found the earl's enthusiastic attitude strange, but since he was being hosted, he wouldn't commit a rudeness like leaving imdiately.
Because of the dreadful weather, Hathaway was also ho. As soon as she heard Jenkins had arrived, she rushed from her room to see him. Though nervous on the inside, Jenkins explained his reason for visiting with an easy grace. A flicker of joy crossed Hathaway's face, but she glanced reluctantly at her father, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
"Alright, I'm free this afternoon. Can you wait for ? I need to change my clothes."
"Of course, that's no problem at all."
A lady's preparations before going out were always a lengthy process, even if they themselves didn't realize it. To prevent boredom, the earl invited Jenkins to his study for a chat. Jenkins, of course, knew he wanted to discuss sothing.
The last ti the two had spoken in the study was last year. Back then, Jenkins had threatened the earl with a stack of sensitive letters confiscated from the illegal organization known as the Witch's House. They hadn't had a formal conversation since.
Jenkins had expected today's conversation to be awkward, but everything felt quite natural. As he lifted his teacup, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled their last eting in this study, the earl had already settled into the stately leather chair behind his desk.
"It's been a long ti, Baron Williatte."
"It has, Earl Hersha. Good afternoon."
The exchange began with the customary pleasantries, a social grace observed by all.
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