"The youth of today... truly incredible."
On the third floor of Viscount Ludos's residence, the elf watched Jenkins's string of actions, shaking his head in admiration. He walked over to the window to check the thickness of the curtains and how much light they let through. Then, with a lift of his right hand, a brilliant yellow orb of light, like a miniature sun, slowly drifted out, illuminating the space before them.
The entire third floor was a single, open space. Due to the architectural style, it was smaller than the floors below, but still roughly twice the size of Jenkins's own living room.
The room had been set up as an exhibition hall. Display cases, each covered by a transparent glass do, were artfully arranged across the polished wooden floors. Oil paintings adorned the walls, while suits of ancient armor and racks of antique weaponry stood sentinel along the periter. It felt less like the top floor of a house and more like a well-curated private museum.
In the southeast corner, a staircase led down, but its landing was blocked by a solid wooden wall. Clearly, they would need to find so kind of chanism to open it.
"I didn't realize our host was an antique collector,"
the elf remarked, intrigued. He approached the nearest display case. Inside the glass do, a silver dinner knife with dark brown stains on its polished surface rested on a white handkerchief.
"'The weapon used by the Naless One to assassinate Earl Langdon, Universal Calendar 1093.'"
The old elf read the plaque aloud. Jenkins glanced over as well.
"I knew it," Jenkins said. "Rich people always love collecting these bizarre trinkets."
With that, he and the old elf began to tour the collection. The viscount's assortnt was vast and eclectic. A few pieces were oddities like the dagger, but most were relatively mundane. So, while the collection was a bit eccentric, there was nothing inherently wrong with it.
Relying on his Eye of Reality, Jenkins easily spotted the Bestowal. It lay in a display case against the far wall—an exquisite black iron key. It wasn't the flat, toothed type common today, but a cylindrical key with an intricate pattern of bumps and indentations.
It was the kind of key used for the unique locks created by inventors in the early Steam Age, a ti when aesthetics often trumped practicality. People soon discovered that such locks were remarkably easy to pick, so the design was gradually abandoned. Now, they were relics, seen only in antique shops and history books.
"This is it,"
Jenkins said to the elf. The elf stared at the key in awe, then watched as Jenkins pulled a pair of white gloves from his pocket, put them on, and carefully lifted the glass do.
"This is to avoid leaving fingerprints," he explained to the elf, "not that many people even know the term these days..."
He set the glass do aside and pulled a roll of ten-pound notes from another pocket.
"A key like this, based on antique prices, would probably be worth..."
He muttered, counting out the money. He pulled out six notes and placed them next to the key's display stand. Jenkins wasn't about to be a thief.
"I've paid thirty percent over its value. Now it's mine."
He nodded in satisfaction and reached for the key. But just then, the old elf's pointed ears twitched. He spun around, his gaze fixed on the blocked staircase.
"Soone's opening the chanism!"
The floor beneath them began to vibrate faintly, and wisps of white steam hissed up through the cracks between the floorboards. The chanism to open the hidden door was housed between the second-floor ceiling and the third-floor landing. Though it looked like a simple wooden wall, it was actually steel-reinforced.
The grinding of gears and levers echoed from beneath the floor, and a sliver of light appeared at the bottom of the blocked stairwell. The light widened as the hidden door swung open.
Viscount Ludos erged, accompanied by a tall, thin, middle-aged man. Both were dressed for the outdoors; Jenkins could even catch the faint, distinctive stench of burnt coal from Nolan's air clinging to their clothes.
The viscount fumbled along the wall for the gas lamp controls, turning on all the lights around the room one by one. As he did, the stranger casually inspected the viscount's collection with his hands clasped behind his back, making no move to help.
"Quite a remarkable piece,"
the stranger comnted, gesturing toward the dagger, before turning his attention to an oil painting of a skeleton on the wall. By the ti Viscount Ludos had lit all the lamps, he was drenched in sweat. The day was hot, the windows on the third floor were sealed shut, and the blast of steam from the door chanism had turned the room into a sauna. It was no place to linger.
"Please, feel free to browse my collection,"
the viscount said politely, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. He was panting, clearly unaccustod to physical exertion.
"If there's nothing else, I'll wait for you on the second floor. Just co down when you've made your selection."
He was about to turn for the stairs, clearly eager to leave, but the stranger stopped him.
"Viscount, we are very pleased with this arrangent. As for our promise to you, consider it done. Your disabled son will get the leg he so desires."
A smile played on the stranger's lips.
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