And so Friday arrived, the fourteenth day of the Month of the Starry Sky and the Long Night.
The morning sun pierced through a thin white mist, its rays slanting into the peaceful hos along St. George Avenue. The windowpanes filtered the light, leaving the dining room dim enough that the gas lamps had to be lit to provide their usual brightness.
The girls, still in their pajamas, joined Jenkins around the dining table for a lavish breakfast prepared by the maid. Jenkins still wasn't quite used to having so many people in his ho for the morning al, but a quiet voice in his head told him this was only the beginning—there would be more.
As was his habit, he perused the morning's letters and newspapers while he ate. He also inford the girls that he had a eting later that day with two of the kingdom's elder dukes.
The papers were filled with much the sa news as before; the arrival of the three kings and the delegation from the Twelve Orthodox Churches still dominated two-thirds of the columns. The letters, however, were another story. Ever since his return from Ruen, the volu of mail had swelled daily. It was no longer just fan letters forwarded by his publisher; now, all manner of nobles and prominent industrialists he had never t were sending him correspondence.
"Queen Isabella wishes to invite Dolores's father and the king of the southern kingdom for a eting to discuss matters of state..."
He read from an article in the paper:
"But before the three monarchs convene, Queen Isabella will et with each of them individually. Her talks with Tackwen, 'the Proud One,' are expected to be particularly decisive in shaping the course of the coming war."
"Hasn't all of that been arranged for so ti? Speaking of which, what happened with that assassin from yesterday? The one who tried to kill you?"
Hathaway asked, her concern evident.
Jenkins hadn't heard any updates on the matter, but an hour later, Papa Oliver filled him in on the outco:
"The Church perford a targeted divination and moved in to make arrests imdiately after. This incident had nothing to do with supernatural forces; it was purely a conspiracy hatched by politicians and schers. The Church has already pressured the king and parliant of Cheslan. They've agreed to admit it was the work of subversive elents within their own country and will issue a formal apology to you."
"So in other words, the Church is using this to pressure the pro-war faction in Cheslan?"
"Exactly. Which is why 'the Proud One' of the southern kingdom not only hasn't objected but is actually quite pleased with the arrangent."
The Church had killed two birds with one stone: they found a pretext to support the anti-war king while also ensuring the perpetrators faced retribution.
"So, that's all perfectly resolved, then? In that case, let's talk about last night. Papa, I heard the Church of Death and End captured a mber of the Gear Artisans' Association..."
Jenkins declared, leaning casually against the counter.
"No, this matter is far from over."
Papa Oliver cut him off.
"Victum is dead."
"Who?"
It took Jenkins a mont to place the na. Then he rembered: the young man who had asked Alexia Miller to dance at the ball, the sa one Jenkins had pulled behind him as a shield at the docks.
"Dead?"
His brow furrowed, and he shifted his weight behind the counter.
"But he was only shot in the shoulder, and he was taken for treatnt right away. How could he be dead? Was the bullet poisoned? Or maybe tetanus?"
"No, it had nothing to do with the bullet."
Papa Oliver looked at Jenkins, his expression somber.
"He was assassinated while recovering at ho."
The incident wasn't reported in the papers. Victum was, after all, an heir to the throne. His position in the line of succession may have been low, but the matter still concerned the kingdom's honor. At such a critical juncture, the royal family had pressured the press to suppress any ntion of it.
That didn't an the matter wouldn't be investigated, however. And when it ca to motive, Jenkins was the pri suspect.
When a detective from KalFax Yard actually showed up at Pops Antique Shop looking for him, Jenkins was sure the expression on his face must have been a sight to behold.
But the facts were what they were. Two days ago at the ball, Jenkins had argued with Victum in front of a crowd over a dance partner. Then, just yesterday at the docks, Victum had been shot—admittedly due to the uncontrollable actions of Jenkins's cat, but shot nonetheless.
No matter how you looked at it, he was an incredibly suspicious figure.
"Viscount, this is just a routine inquiry. There's no need to be alard."
The man sent to question him, Detective Vidi, was an ordinary-looking, middle-aged man with a thick beard. He silently cursed his superiors as he pulled out a small notepad to take a statent. Regardless of whether Jenkins Williams was actually involved, being tasked with questioning him was an unenviable assignnt.
Given Jenkins's royal status, even the chief of KalFax Yard would have hesitated to voice any suspicion. So the duty was passed down the line until it landed on the desk of a detective they could afford to dispatch.
This, at least, suggested that KalFax Yard didn't truly believe Jenkins had killed Victum and therefore wasn't taking his questioning very seriously.
"Where were you last night?"
the uniford detective asked, though he started scribbling in his notebook before Jenkins even had a chance to speak.
"Last night, I..."
He glanced over at Papa Oliver, but the old man was absorbed in his newspaper, showing no intention of intervening. The truth was, Jenkins had killed soone last night, and his whereabouts had to remain a secret.
"I was at ho last night."
"Can anyone corroborate that? Oh, this is just a routine question, of course. I'm not suggesting I suspect you."
In his younger days, the now middle-aged Detective Vidi had joined KalFax Yard fueled by a belief in 'justice' and 'fairness.' He didn't fear authority, but the impossibly young royal before him looked nothing like a murderer. He figured this entire trip was just an exercise in offending a powerful man, which explained his exceedingly polite tone.
"Corroboration? Yes, I was at ho last night. Yes, at ho. And... there were three ladies there with ..."
Vidi's eyelid twitched. He renewed the silent cursing of his superiors; he was definitely hearing things he wasn't supposed to hear.
"If necessary, I can have them co and verify my statent."
Jenkins added.
The detective, of course, had no intention of questioning the daughters of Earl Hersha and Marquis Mikhail, let alone the personal maid of a foreign princess. He was still sane and valued his career. And so, having been inford of Jenkins's whereabouts the previous night, he asked a few more trivial questions, had Jenkins confirm the notes and sign his na, and promptly took his leave.
Papa Oliver watched the entire exchange from behind the counter. Only after the detective had departed did he speak.
"You definitely weren't ho last night."
"I didn't kill him!"
he retorted instantly. Nearby, his cat yawned, its paws tucked lazily beneath it, hoping sothing interesting might finally happen to liven up the boring day.
"Of course I know you didn't kill Victum. But you need to be careful. Whatever you do, don't get yourself entangled in the deaths of other heirs. It will tarnish your reputation. Still, don't worry too much. The Church still has considerable influence with the press."
Papa Oliver's gaze dropped back to his newspaper. His voice was quiet, but carried an undeniable authority:
"Even if soone tries to drag you into this, the papers will clear your na."
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