A middle-aged woman and gentleman sat across from each other in the restaurant, their relaxed expressions suggesting light conversation. An observer might have assud they were discussing sothing as mundane as the weather, but their topic was, in fact, far more intriguing:
"The tomb we were exploring had clearly been visited before—by more than one group," she explained. "A cave-in blocked the way, making it nearly impossible to go any deeper. We ca up empty-handed, but while we were digging through the collapse, we stumbled upon several bodies buried in the debris. They were probably tomb raiders from earlier expeditions... Our own group started to turn on each other. It's not uncommon in situations like that, as you know. I found the ring during that excavation, likely an artifact lost by so ancient explorer. When we uncovered it, the ring was so caked with gri it had practically beco one with the earth. I can't say for sure when it was lost, but I'd guess it happened within the last century."
Every word was the truth, setting off no alarms from his Lie Godhood. Jenkins mulled it over before asking another question.
"Where is the tomb located?"
"It's in York Town—the sa little town where the dragon ruins surfaced. The earthquake unearthed more than just that colossal site; it also revealed a number of scattered ancient structures and tombs. The one my friends and I were exploring was part of that cluster, but..."
She lifted her head, her gaze filled with regret as she looked at Jenkins.
"As we were leaving, we accidentally triggered the tomb's defense chanisms. Instead of killing us, the ancient clockwork contraptions backfired, causing the entire structure to collapse completely. Mr. Candle, I can give you the precise address, but I highly doubt you'll find anything of value left."
This, too, was the truth, and Jenkins felt a pang of disappointnt. The ring Papa Oliver had purchased had also been taken from a tomb near York Town by looters; it was almost certain the two rings shared a similar history.
"So, what are your thoughts on that ring?"
Jenkins wasn't ready to let the trail go cold just yet.
"An antique. Valuable. An ordinary item... Its previous owner was a man, over a thousand years old."
"Hmm?"
Jenkins looked up at her in surprise.
"One of my friends has a special ability, sothing like a psychotrist, who can trace an object's history through touch."
That was a lie.
"That's quite a dangerous ability. After all, not every object has a safe history... Your friend?"
"Yes, my friend."
Silver Flute Miss nodded affirmatively, which confird for Jenkins that the lie wasn't about the ability's function, but about who possessed it.
"'A friend,' huh?" Jenkins mused to himself. "Well, it's none of my business. But soone over a thousand years old is fascinating. Was he from a short-lived race who used rituals to prolong his life, or was he naturally long-lived? And why would soone like that resort to tomb raiding? That's just... then again, maybe it was just a peculiar hobby."
Jenkins's mind raced, branching off in a dozen directions. He hadn't gotten any concrete leads, but one thing was clear: a massive secret lay hidden behind those rings that shouldn't have existed in the first place.
As it happened, he had nothing else planned for the day, so he decided to continue investigating the secret of the rings.
Waiting for Papa Oliver to bring news from the Church was one option, but Jenkins realized he could also visit the old elf and ask him about the situation.
He bid farewell to Silver Flute Miss, promising again that he wouldn't disturb her life, before finally leaving the restaurant under her anxious gaze.
While Jenkins and Silver Flute Miss had been talking, Chocolate had already polished off its lunch, so it had no complaints about its owner's decision to continue their excursion.
After all, it didn't have to do the walking itself.
To avoid the cultists of the Dead Man's Whip, the old elf was now living in a high-end rented apartnt near the Sage's Church. Jenkins, worried about being seen by Papa Oliver, approached in his disguise as usual.
The closer he got to the city center, the more police officers he noticed patrolling the streets. Occasionally, he could also spot disguised Enchanters from the Church moving about. It seed the city-wide search was still underway.
Pretending to be a pedestrian, Jenkins turned at a fire hydrant to enter another street, just as four n in a hurry brushed past him. He acted as if nothing had happened and continued walking, only looking back after making sure no one was watching him.
Those four n were from the Church of Creation and Machinery. Jenkins had seen three of them before; they had been in Nolan investigating the matter of the enchanted clock. The fourth was a new face. His mory for faces wasn't exceptional, but his recollection of an Enchanter's aura was quite sharp.
"Could that be the Saint of the Righteous God, the 'Master Craftsman,' that Captain Bincy ntioned? But if he's in such a hurry, why isn't he taking a carriage?"
The status of a Saint in the Church was exceptionally high. With the exception of a Saint like Jenkins, whose identity was being concealed while he was still developing, a typical Saint's procession was comparable to that of a pope or a king.
"Why hasn't he left Nolan yet? Is he also here to continue investigating that clock? No, that's a trivial matter for a Saint. The Church of Creation and Machinery wouldn't station a Saint in Nolan for sothing like that... What is he really here for?"
If he couldn't figure it out, he wouldn't dwell on it for now. He was sure to get an answer if he had the chance to ask Miss Bevanna. Jenkins temporarily set the matter aside and looked up at the window of the apartnt rented by the old elf, Bruce Lacless Siannod.
Fortunately, he was ho. Jenkins could see him in the kitchen—it was one of those combined kitchen and dining spaces—and figured he was having lunch.
He knocked on the apartnt door and was greeted by the old elf without any issue. The elf apparently had a way of seeing through Jenkins's disguise, a trait that seed related to his elven bloodline.
The old elf politely invited Jenkins to join him for lunch, but Jenkins declined, saying he had already eaten.
"You actually eat at?"
Jenkins remarked with so surprise upon seeing the elf's lunch.
"Don't tell you also believe those human fantasies about elven diets, that elves are pure vegetarians and never use tal products?"
The old elf asked with a smile.
"Not using tal products is too much of an exaggeration. If that were true, it would an the elven race has a hereditary allergy to tal... But I always thought elves rarely ate at, and even if they did, it wouldn't be..."
He pointed at the steak. It was dium-well.
"Elven and human diets are basically the sa. We can treat fruit as a main course, and we eat a bit less at... but there's really no difference. The things you hear in stories and legends are mostly mistaken and absurd nonsense."
Reviews
All reviews (0)