As luck would have it, the clue from Magic Miss about the Enchantnt pointed to a location remarkably close to where Dolores's vague information about the Creation Slate led. But Dolores's intel was six months out of date, and Jenkins wasn't counting on a stroke of luck. Tonight, the primary objective was to find that C-class Enchantnt.
This was Jenkins's first joint adventure with the old elf. Until now, he'd only known him as a venerable elder, soone who sat indoors offering guidance to the younger generation.
In truth, if his power were asured by the standards of a human Enchanter, the old elf was far from weak. He was ancient even by elven standards, and though his innate talent might have been modest, ti itself bestowed its own gifts upon those who persevered.
The pair strolled side by side through the streets of Nolan, chatting idly as they walked. They soon left the upper district behind, plunging into the thick fog that clung to the city's outskirts. Despite the gaslights flickering along the roadside, visibility was terrifyingly low.
"Sothing bad is bound to happen if this keeps up."
The old elf declared with certainty, sniffing a peculiar scent in the air. He and Jenkins were standing close, yet they could only see each other as hazy silhouettes.
"I've seen this sort of thing too many tis," he continued. "Nature may not have a consciousness of its own, but it is acutely responsive to changes in the world. A fog like this... it's thick enough to spawn sothing terrible."
It didn't even need nature's intervention; human hands could easily harness the power of such a dense fog. Jenkins told the old elf about last year's "Children of the Mist" plan—how he had inexplicably thwarted it the first ti, only for them to try again by harnessing the power of an Evil God's scion, a sche that culminated in the six-god incident in Nolan at the end of last year.
"I hadn't heard of that," the elf said. "But if they tried a second ti, it stands to reason they might try a third."
The elf surmised:
"With the ability to manipulate fog, it wouldn't be difficult to draw power from this miasma, assuming one didn't care about the cost. Look, just walking through it, I can feel a prickling, hair-raising sensation on my skin. The fog in Nolan is already beyond control."
Manipulating fog was a specialty of the Perfu Appreciation Committee, an organization that had recently relocated to Nolan in its entirety. If the old elf's speculation was correct, a third "Children of the Mist" plan might very well be in the works.
Furthermore, the previous two attempts had ties to the Tree House. Now that those tobacco peddlers had cozied up with the Tree House, Jenkins found it hard to believe their collaboration was simply about making money.
He sighed, troubled by the thorny issue. The old elf offered so comfort, reminding him that it wasn't his problem to solve alone. Besides, if the source of the smog could be properly managed, Nolan's fog would be nothing more than a river without a source, dood to dry up.
"Which is why I must beco king."
Jenkins declared, arriving at this conclusion. The old elf nodded, a look of gratification on his face.
"It would be an honor for all elves. I've heard about the matter of the Middleton family. It is only right that you reclaim the power that belongs to the elves."
The Enchantnt Magic Miss knew of had been smuggled into Nolan last autumn along with a shipnt of antiques. It should have surfaced on the black market or through so other underground channel, but a massive fire—caused by a batch of shoddy explosive charms—had changed its fate. The Enchantnt, along with the surviving antiques, ended up in storage at KalFax Field, where it lay for the better part of six months.
Later, the antiques held as evidence vanished without a trace, only to resurface as part of a local nobleman's collection. Magic Miss had stumbled upon this clue quite by accident, but she couldn't be certain if all the original items had ended up in the sa hands. After all, no one even knew what the Enchantnt was.
Before long, Jenkins and the old elf arrived outside the residence of Viscount Ludos in western Nolan. The viscount was a local nobleman whose family was not particularly prominent, but his daughter had married the current director of personnel at KalFax Field. That, Jenkins suspected, was how he had managed to acquire the antiques.
The estate was sizable, protected by high walls and a closed black iron gate that stood as a clear deterrent to intruders. Both Jenkins and the elf possessed ans of altering their faces and figures. After a quick disguise, they vaulted over the wall.
The old elf wasn't particularly agile, but scaling an unguarded wall posed no real challenge. The mont their feet touched the ground, however, they were spotted by a pack of black wolfhounds resting near the wall. The watchdogs were enormous and vicious, each looking capable of swallowing several cats the size of Chocolate in a single gulp.
"ow~"
The cat on his shoulder flicked its tail against the back of Jenkins's neck in clear displeasure.
Before Jenkins could act, the old elf produced a pinch of powder from his pocket and tossed it into the air. The wolfhounds, which had been about to leap up and bark, suddenly slumped to the ground, looking for all the world as if they'd been overco by a wave of exhaustion.
"A special elven formula," the elf whispered. "For dealing with beasts of the forest."
The elf explained in a hushed tone. He and Jenkins then hugged the wall, slipping past the patrolling guards. They skirted a collection of empty wine barrels and vaulted over a pile of construction materials before finally reaching the back of the house.
"I've already scouted it out," Jenkins said. "Our target is on the third floor."
He said this, though in truth, he knew because of the spiritual aura he'd just seen radiating from the third floor.
The back door looked as if it hadn't been opened in years. The keyhole was speckled with rust and the handle was coated in a thick layer of dust. After so fumbling with a piece of wire, Jenkins managed to pick the lock, and the two of them slipped inside.
The ground floor housed Viscount Ludos's reception room, study, living room, and the servants' quarters. The second floor was the family's private living space. But when they reached the second floor, they searched for so ti without finding any staircase leading to a third.
Jenkins glanced up, reconfirming the Enchantnt's location, then called over to the elf, who was about to start searching for hidden levers or trapdoors.
"No need for all that trouble," he said. "We'll go straight up."
As he spoke, he dropped two silencing charms at his feet, dragged over a low cabinet that held a vase near the top of the stairs, and clambered onto it. Reaching up to touch the ceiling of the second-floor corridor, he channeled a stream of fire from his fingertips, and in monts, a large hole had been burned through the floorboards above.
"Let's go!"
He scrambled nimbly up to the third floor, then reached down and hauled the dumbfounded elf up after him.
"Do you do this sort of thing often?"
the elf asked, unable to fathom how Jenkins could be so practiced.
"No," Jenkins replied. "Don't get the wrong idea."
Jenkins shook his head. He hopped back down to the second floor, moved the cabinet back to its original position, and retrieved the silencing charms. With a powerful leap, he shot back up, grabbing the elf's hand to steady himself. Once on the third floor, he pressed his palms to the floor and nded the burned-out hole, leaving no trace that any discourteous intruders had ever been there.
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