It was barely ten in the morning when he left the church. With plenty of ti before lunch, Jenkins hailed a carriage and made his way to the school where Professor Burns taught.
He arrived just as classes were letting out for lunch. The gatekeeper recognized him from the speech he had given last year to expose the Fabry fraud and waved him through without a word.
Keeping his head low to avoid drawing attention, Jenkins blended in easily. His build and bearing were close enough to a student's that no one gave him a second glance. He found the joint office for the history and archaeology departnts without any trouble, but Professor Burns was nowhere to be seen.
An elderly gentleman at a desk near the professor's inford Jenkins that Burns had a morning class and wasn't expected back until noon.
He finally caught sight of the professor at the entrance of the newly painted office building. Jenkins, growing impatient, had been about to head to the classroom to wait, but just then, he saw the professor approaching, directing two young n who were carrying several specins.
The professor gave Jenkins a nod, instructed his students to take the items to his office, and then led him down a small path that wound behind the building, coming to a stop amidst a thicket of shrubs.
"So, you're back," the professor began. "I heard Miss Bevanna traveled all the way to the mountains to find you. It sounds like you ran into so trouble."
It seed word of his ordeal in the mountains had spread far and wide.
"It was a dreadful trip, to say the least. We encountered... Let's not get into it. I'd rather not dredge up those awful mories, though I still have to write the report."
He shook his head sharply.
"Jenkins, fate has its designs," the professor said gently. "So might call that a pessimistic view of life, but as Enchanters, we know that what people call 'destiny' is a very real force. Now then, what brings you here?"
The professor finally rembered to ask about the purpose of his visit.
"Yes. I was at the post office this morning and picked up this month's 'dical Outlook on Tropical Diseases.' The eting is scheduled for Sunday night. But I have sothing else that evening, so I'm afraid you'll have to go alone this ti. I was hoping, however..."
"I understand," the professor cut in. "I'll pass along any news from the Corpse Gentleman. Nolan has been chaotic lately. Let's hope he can offer so useful advice."
As it happened, Sunday night was also when Mr. Hood held his gathering. The scheduling conflict Jenkins had long feared had finally materialized. After a mont of consideration, he decisively chose to forgo the eting with the Corpse Gentleman.
The demigod Enchanter and that eerie, abandoned hospital had always left him feeling an imnse sense of pressure.
When Jenkins presented his new book to the professor, Burns offered him a small gift in return—both as a reciprocal gesture and as a token of thanks for the speech he'd given at the school late last year.
The gift was a heavy, square red box. At first glance, Jenkins assud it was wood, but the cool, smooth surface felt unmistakably like stone.
"B-06-4-2207, the Loneso One's Gift Box," the professor explained. "It's a type of Extraordinary item that exists in multiples; anyone might unearth one from below sea level. If you open it during a holiday, or on a day that holds special significance for you, you'll receive a small gift. The item inside will always be smaller than the box itself, but its contents are completely random. You might get a sweet piece of bread, or you might get a priceless artifact."
"Isn't this... far too valuable?" Jenkins stamred.
Jenkins tried to hand it back to the professor.
"Though the boxes themselves are rare, most of the items they produce are quite ordinary, with little value."
The professor shook his head, motioning for Jenkins to keep it. "But I must warn you: while the contents are always a 'gift,' a nasty surprise is still a gift. It has a danger rating of 4 for a reason. Soone was once killed when they opened one and found A-11-02-3488, 'Mr. Prankster's Prank Bomb,' inside. So, be careful. Now, take it. I think you'll enjoy it."
Even if the professor claid it wasn't particularly valuable, it was still a numbered item. On the black market, it would fetch a starting price of no less than ten gold pounds.
Seeing that refusal was futile, Jenkins accepted the box, resolving to give the professor a magnificent gift in return on the next holiday.
He hadn't even left the school grounds before his cat reminded him it was ti for lunch. With that feline companion, Jenkins was unlikely to ever miss a al.
They dined together at a restaurant on the banks of the Westminster River. It was his first ti visiting the establishnt, but the food was perfectly to his liking.
The prices, however, were rather steep. Even with his ans, Jenkins felt a twinge of regret for his wallet when the bill arrived. As he counted out his money and considered the tip, he overheard patrons at the next table discussing the nearby Joël Bridge. He decided he would go take a look at the state of the repairs.
He had his own plans for the afternoon as well. Before Jenkins had left Nolan, his father, Robert Williams, had arranged a mining investnt for him. A letter from Maidenhaven Road had arrived that very morning. Robert, having likely heard at church of Jenkins's return, had scheduled a eting with the other investors, along with the silver mine's owner and manager, to sign the contracts on Maidenhaven Road.
The eting was set for two o'clock, which left him so ti to wander the neighborhood.
So ti had passed since the Joël Bridge was damaged. Nolan's city hall wasn't exactly famous for its efficiency, but it took the city's critical infrastructure seriously.
Jenkins strolled along a low wall bordering the street and arrived at the bridge. He saw it had already been reopened to traffic, though tal pipes and scaffolding still clung to the pier on the near side, suggesting the repairs had only just been completed in the last day or two.
He walked onto the bridge, tossing a silver coin to a woman begging at its entrance. He paused at the center, leaning against the railing to gaze out at the frozen expanse of the river. If past years were any indication, it would thaw soti in early March, and the waterway would once again teem with vessels until the next winter.
This ti, his idle wandering led to no chance encounters with acquaintances. He arrived on Maidenhaven Road on schedule to et his new partners. Despite a few minor hitches, the contract signing went smoothly.
Jenkins officially invested thirty thousand gold pounds into a large silver mine in the mountains near Nolan, securing a three percent stake. The projected annual return was a staggering sixty thousand pounds.
The phenonal return on investnt wasn't indicative of a scam; rather, the favorable terms were due to two key factors. The first was Jenkins's current standing—his involvent implied that should the mine run into trouble, it might receive assistance from the Sage Church. The second was his father's hard work. Robert's career at the Smiths United Mining Company was flourishing, which gave him access to such lucrative opportunities.
In that regard, Jenkins was, through and through, a mber of the privileged class.
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