Jenkins didn't see Papa Oliver at the church; he was likely in the basent or behind the Gate of All Things. Jenkins was rather glad for it. If they'd t, his ntor would have surely grilled him about why he wasn't at the antique shop on Fifth Queen's Avenue.
Next, he considered finding Miss Bevanna to get an update, but she wasn't at the church either. He inquired with Director Rodney of the Theological Research Hall, who inford him that sothing strange had occurred in the mining district east of the city that morning, and Miss Bevanna had gone to deal with it.
So, using a sick visit as a pretext, Jenkins headed to Captain Bincy's room empty-handed. When he pushed the door open, the middle-aged man was propped up against the headboard, reading a newspaper. An apple, cut into several slices, sat on the bedside table.
After a few pleasantries about the weather, they fell into an idle chat about the news. Jenkins carefully probed with a few questions, but it was clear Captain Bincy knew nothing of Papa Oliver's major discovery concerning the Carl family, nor was he familiar with the cursed woman living under the Church's care.
He had been resting in his room all day and wasn't even aware of the incident at the eastern mining district Director Rodney had just ntioned.
"I do know a bit about the city-wide manhunt, though," he said. "Late last night, the Church captured soone with an Exotic Tide tattoo in the sewers right under City Hall. By the Sage... I know it sounds terrible, but I'm so glad I wasn't on that mission. Jenkins, you can't possibly imagine how foul that stretch of sewer was."
He grimaced at the mory, just as Jenkins asked:
"What kind of aberration was it? I believe that's the first tattoo the Church has found since the search began."
"A fire sprite. It's a type of aberration born from flas, similar to a fire spirit but on a much lower tier of existence. Their combat strength isn't particularly high; the tricky part is their ability to transform into a fla. As long as a single flicker escapes, they can get away. Catching it in that stinking sewer was a real stroke of luck. It must have been the Sage's blessing."
"Another fire-elental aberration?"
"Yes, another fire-elental aberration."
Captain Bincy nodded. He watched Jenkins block his cat from getting to the apple slices and chuckled. "I don't care for apples. Chocolate can have them."
"He's eaten far too much today. A little while ago, he was... well, never mind. Has the Church discovered why all the aberrations have been fire-elental?"
Jenkins had nearly let it slip that he'd spent the afternoon visiting a friend.
"We don't know much about this ritual," Bincy replied. "The files on the Exotic Tide from the Holy See don't ntion any need for specific elental types. My personal theory is that it's to complent the sacrifice that follows. The Church has all but confird the cultists' aim is to summon an angel, right? Honestly, I never thought I'd live to see sothing this big."
"I feel like most of the major events in the last six months could rival summoning an angel,"
Jenkins thought to himself, but he didn't voice his disagreent.
He privately agreed that the Exotic Tide tattoo must have been modified, hence the choice of aberrations with specific abilities. After all, the cultists' goal wasn't to acquire this dangerous power for themselves, but to summon a Slaughter Angel directly.
Still, Jenkins had his doubts about their thods. He already possessed three-quarters of the God's Child Umbilical Cord, leaving only a final quarter to serve as a bridge. Even with a perfect blood sacrifice, they could at most bring a single angel to the material world. And that was hardly a problem—Jenkins still had an unused drop of godhood in his possession.
"There has to be sothing I'm missing,"
he thought, watching dark clouds drift in from the horizon. It looked like rain was on its way.
He didn't see Papa Oliver again until dinner at the church. For so reason, his ntor was wearing a different set of clothes from the ones he'd left the shop in that morning. But just as Jenkins expected, his first words were a question about why he was there.
"Business was slow this morning, so I ca straight to the church after lunch. Captain Bincy saw at two; he can vouch for ."
Even so, Papa Oliver eyed him with suspicion, as if convinced he'd used his free ti to stir up so fresh trouble.
When Jenkins asked about the Carl family, Papa Oliver didn't hold back, sharing everything he had uncovered that day.
"The woman, Chulun Carl, admitted the rings belonged to her family. They were forged before the divine punishnt fell, to celebrate the birth of a future heir."
"I think you ntioned that... So where were the rings originally supposed to be?"
"The youngest son of the Carl family died in his third month due to a failed ritual. The rings were buried with his body in a tomb, and then the divine punishnt ca. People in that epoch had a strange tradition: infants who died before their first birthday couldn't be buried with the rest of the family, as it was believed to bring misfortune upon future descendants. So a separate burial site was chosen. I looked up maps from that era and had Professor Burns and his colleagues compare them with modern ones. We've concluded that the tomb must be sowhere around Nolan. But the world has changed so much; who knows where it is now."
Finding the tomb would undoubtedly yield more information. Under normal circumstances, the Church would have assigned more personnel to assist the investigation. But with the so-called angel of a heretical god threatening the entire city, the reappearance of divinely punished artifacts, as reported by Papa Oliver and Jenkins, simply wasn't a high enough priority.
Thus, the only lead left regarding the rings was the old elf's friend, Mr. Rynsarm. A man who raised plenty of his own questions. Jenkins even suspected that the ring Silver Flute Miss had found in the tomb near the ruins had been dropped by him accidentally.
"And yet, my eyes tell he's human. So how has he lived for so long?"
(Chocolate scampered past...)
The next day was Monday, the twenty-fifth of the month. Just as he'd expected, Jenkins woke at six sharp to the sound of a torrential downpour. He pulled back the curtains to see water cascading from the roof, a solid sheet falling past his window.
The rain blurred the city's edges, and at six in the morning, the sky was still so dark that it felt like the dead of night.
Fierce winds drove the deluge, scouring the city streets. After breakfast, Jenkins hesitated for a long mont before deciding to venture out. The rain was so heavy an umbrella would make little difference. He'd planned to splurge on a carriage to the antique shop, but there were none to be found.
Reviews
All reviews (0)