Although this was all just speculation, it was highly probable. The person who left the stone slate, in particular, had unequivocally described the Mad Poet's strangeness.
This was well worth investigating, and the task of looking into a deity's faith naturally fell to Jenkins. After dinner, Alexia went to examine the Corpse Gentleman's body while Jenkins returned to Nolan to see the professor again. He posed the question to him and, to his surprise, the professor answered imdiately without even needing to consult a book.
"The answer to that is quite simple. If one carefully traces the threads of history, one finds that not all gods are ancient. So may have only appeared in the last thousand years or so..."
The professor paused, giving Jenkins a aningful look. He dared not continue, as such words bordered on blasphemy.
"So within the Church have conducted similar research. While such studies are not suitable for public dissemination, so papers can be found in the library. As for a great being who only began to spread their faith after the end of the Fifteenth Epoch but before the close of the Sixteenth, there is only one answer: the Spiraling Mist, the master of mists and spices... Why do you ask? Has the Ruen diocese made new progress in the investigation of the special tobacco?"
Jenkins didn't answer the professor's question. He thanked him and left his ho. Walking onto the street in a bit of a daze, he felt as if an invisible thread was weaving everything together behind the world's facade. The Church had been clear that the Spiraling Mist was not an evil god; the incident with the strange tobacco was the work of so non-believers and a few followers within the Perfu Appreciation Committee. And it was this very sa deity who had defeated the Mad Poet of the Fifteenth Epoch, saved the world, and ascended to godhood.
"But how am I supposed to contact this god to ask about the Mad Poet? Even if I could reach him through his followers, I'd have to travel thousands of miles to the other side of the continent. And there's no guarantee he would even agree to see . It seems I've hit another dead end..."
For a mont, he was troubled. The investigation into the Mad Poet, the strange machinery, and the Misfortune Poem seed to have stalled. Jenkins stood blankly at the street corner for a mont, then decided to first deal with the body of the Enchanter who had left the sonabsorbing stone. After that, he would return to Ruen and discuss the next steps with Alexia.
Number 3 Colange Alley was a very ordinary building in East Nolan, inhabited by a very ordinary family. When Jenkins arrived, the lights were still on. He had to wait patiently for a long ti until the family finished discussing the war in the eastern part of the kingdom and all went to bed. Only then did he pick the lock and carefully slip inside.
Being a house in a narrow alley, the basent wasn't very large. A quick scan revealed no hidden door, so he used his Eye of Reality to search for any spiritual glow. Sure enough, he saw a faint light coming from below ground.
Following its location, he searched for a hidden entrance and easily found a loose, almost unnoticeable panel in a corner. After prying it off, he discovered a lever inside. Pulling it caused a trapdoor to appear silently in the floor.
Holding a candle, he entered the secret chamber through the trapdoor and imdiately saw a desiccated corpse slumped over a desk. The room was set up like a cramped study, with bookshelves lining three of the walls, surrounding a desk and a chair. There was no other furniture.
After patiently confirming that there were no curses attached to the body, Jenkins carefully closed the trapdoor above him and jumped down from the rope ladder. He lit the candle on the desk and saw a final letter laid out on its surface.
The contents were a lantation of his own greed. After reading about the Mad Poet's burial site in an old book, he had gone in search of potential treasure. In the letter, he thanked whoever might co to collect his body and stated his desired resting place. He had been riddled with curses before his death, and imdiate burial would have contaminated the surrounding land. Therefore, he had no choice but to perform a ritual in the secret chamber to contain the curses, allowing ti to dissipate them after his death.
As a reward for collecting his body, the finder could take everything in the secret room. The author of the letter concluded with the hope that his successor would not be blinded by greed and suffer the sa fate.
"He was a good man," Jenkins remarked, "just terribly unlucky."
He thought there might be so information about the Mad Poet here, so he gave the room a quick search, but he didn't find anything of value.
Finally, he searched the desk and discovered a locked drawer in the bottom-left corner. Unable to find a key, Jenkins offered a brief apology before lting the lock with a fla. He opened the drawer to find a book and a slightly crumpled piece of paper, the sa kind used for the letter on the desk.
The paper was placed on top of the book, imdiately visible upon opening the drawer:
[I knew you'd still be curious about the Mad Poet. If you're prepared, take the book below. It contains all my research and records. My final warning to you is this: do not be greedy.]
Jenkins read the sentence three tis, then glanced at the desiccated corpse slumped over the desk. He offered a quiet word of thanks and began to gather the valuables in the room.
There were so ritual materials in a drawer of a bookshelf, and on top of the left-hand shelf sat a small box filled with gemstone fragnts. The man had no numbered items, but his book collection was extensive.
Jenkins estimated how much he could carry in one trip and decided he would have to co back for the rest later.
With that done, he packed the valuables and the book, then hoisted the body onto his shoulder. He climbed out of the basent, back into the house, and slipped out into the night.
Under the cover of darkness, he made his way to a cetery on the outskirts of the city. As requested in the letter, he found a plot on a slope with an open view, then knocked on the door of the gravedigger's cabin.
"Oh? What do you want this late at night? Robbing graves? I should warn you, that's illegal."
The gravedigger, dressed in his nightclothes, slowly opened the door and asked.
"I want to buy a burial plot."
Jenkins said, the corpse still on his shoulder.
The gravedigger glanced at the dried-out body.
"Where'd you find this one?"
He could tell at a glance that the body was well over a decade old, so the man before him was unlikely to be a murderer.
"Found it in the bushes. I want to buy a plot and bury him now."
"Alright, but it has to be cremation. You know the rules are strict now because of the recent plague. Even coming to in the middle of the night, you have to follow them."
"No problem, cremation is fine."
Jenkins nodded, counted out a sufficient number of bills from his wallet, and pressed them into the gravedigger's hand.
"I'm sorry to bother you so late. I can pay extra. Can we get this taken care of tonight?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)