To see the act through to the end, Jenkins took a long detour after leaving the abandoned cetery and headed back to the Augustus family burial ground.
The collapse was truly severe. Jenkins found himself staring blankly at the scattered iron fencing for a long while. Even though he saw five or six middle-aged gentlen standing together and chatting, he simply couldn't make out where the tomb was.
The old butler received Jenkins and inford him of the burial ground's current state. While the entrances to several ancient tombs were now exposed, the Viscount would never permit strangers to enter the final resting place of his ancestors.
As it happened, Jenkins was looking for an excuse to leave. He made a show of strolling around the cetery for a bit before turning to head back.
Perhaps taking into account Jenkins's arduous day, when he returned to the antique shop shivering from the cold, Papa Oliver told him he could call it a day.
This ant he was off two hours early. Since it was still light out, he decided not to head straight ho. Instead, he hired a carriage and made for the university where the professor worked.
The rapid developnt of the steam industry in recent years had given rise to so rather bizarre inventions, like the small copper pot inside the carriage.
It was roughly the size of Jenkins’s two fists and contained a built-in steam chanism. After feeding it a bit of coal dust or cinders, the device would continuously produce steam, puffing it out from two vents on either side. It not only ward the cramped space but also added a little moisture to the air.
But it also ca with dozens of drawbacks: it needed constant refilling with water and fuel, it was highly dangerous, and so on. In fact, Jenkins had just read an article in a tabloid a few days ago mocking the contraption.
The device supposedly sold for eleven shillings and three pence. Jenkins wouldn't have bought one anyway; he simply marveled at how the world’s technology tree seed to be branching in a very peculiar direction.
Noland First Higher Academy was situated on the west bank of the Westminster River. Looking out from his carriage, Jenkins could still see boats navigating the water. The rivers in Nolan typically froze over around December, which ant these were the last few days of the year for river travel.
He had been wondering how he would get into the academy, but just as he stepped out of the carriage and paid the driver, he spotted the professor hurrying out from the university.
The professor wore his usual black, wide-brimd hat and a heavy overcoat, a leather satchel tucked under his right arm. Head down, he moved with such haste that he didn't even notice Jenkins trying to greet him.
"Professor Burns!"
Jenkins called out again, and this ti the professor stopped. Clamping a hand on his hat, he dashed across the road, nearly colliding with a noblewoman, before grabbing Jenkins's hand and pulling him right back into the carriage.
"To the Church of Knowledge and Books."
He called out anxiously to the driver, then raised a hand to silence Jenkins. Pressing his right hand to his forehead, the professor leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and gasped for breath.
"Are you all right?"
Jenkins waited a mont before daring to ask in a quiet voice.
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
The professor sat up straight and waved a dismissive, though weary, hand. "I ran too fast, that's all. After sitting in my office all day, I just lost my breath."
"Where are we going?"
he asked again.
"Sothing terrible has happened. It's a good thing I ran into you. Let's head to the church together. I'm sure they're looking for you as well."
"What is it? I just got back from outside the city. I didn't notice anything..."
A sense of unease settled over Jenkins, but after a mont's thought, he relaxed. Since the beginning of the month, aside from his trip to Ruen, he hadn't been involved in anything major. Whatever this was, it surely had nothing to do with him.
"A plague."
"Hm?"
"To call it a plague isn't quite accurate, as we haven't yet identified the cause. But starting this afternoon, people all over Nolan have been collapsing in unexplained fainting spells. The police and hospital field personnel were the first to notice and quickly alerted the Church. That's when we realized supernatural forces were at play. Just a short while ago, one of my students collapsed, and that’s when I received the Church's notice."
Chocolate deftly climbed onto Jenkins’s lap, but he was too preoccupied to stroke his cat.
"I didn't notice a thing."
"That's a good thing. It suggests the outbreak isn't too widespread yet. For now, let's get to the church and find out exactly what's going on..."
He stroked his chin, then asked, "By the way, what was it you needed for?"
"Oh, it's nothing important. We can talk about it later."
He had actually wanted to ask about the moons and the ancient god of death, but given the circumstances, it seed best to save his questions for another day.
Just as he was pondering this, a sudden commotion from the street outside caught his attention.
Jenkins reacted instantly, pulling back the curtain. By a mailbox on the side of the street, two gentlen were struggling to hold up a heavyset woman who had collapsed, her eyes shut. One of them was shouting for help to a pair of pedestrians down the road.
The woman was too heavy for them to support on their own, and they were forced to lean her against the mailbox to share the load. In the faint sunlight, Jenkins could just make out what looked like two silvery streaks on her face.
He blinked, but saw no dark spiritual aura—only the faint, golden shimr of divine power.
"Not an event-type Cursed Item... Is it a heretical cult?"
He mused internally, then exchanged a look with the professor. Both could see the gravity of the situation reflected in the other's eyes.
By the ti their carriage reached the church's street, the main gates were nearly blocked by a crowd of people carrying stretchers.
The driver called out to a passerby to ask what was going on, and the answer was predictable: a strange plague had broken out in the city.
Bringing the afflicted to the church was only natural. Whenever an ergency struck the city, the aid provided by City Hall was never sufficient, so the faithful of all houses tended to turn to their churches for help.
After paying the fare, the professor and Jenkins hopped out. The main entrance was impassable, leaving them no choice but to try a side or back door.
Just as they rounded the corner into the alley, they ran into a frantic-looking Mr. Schleicher. His face lit up with surprise when he saw Jenkins. Without even stopping to speak, he turned, pushed open the door he had just closed, and ushered them both inside.
He had been sent out specifically to find Jenkins and couldn't believe his luck at running into him the mont he stepped outside.
The church was now a chaotic scene, teeming with people. The air was filled with the sounds of crying and praying. The various side halls, normally closed, were now packed with the inexplicably unconscious, while priests and nuns scrambled to maintain so semblance of order. Like the woman on the street, each of the comatose victims emanated a faint, golden spiritual light.
In the courtyard, a passing priest called the professor away. Jenkins exchanged a quick greeting with Papa Oliver, who was striding toward a two-story red-brick building with a deep frown, before Mr. Schleicher led him to the bishop's office.
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