The won in the alley were fuming, but just a few hundred feet away, the conversation inside the antique shop was far more amicable.
Jenkins was curious about the circumstances of their encounter thirty years ago, but Robert's mories of it were hazy. During the Great Plague, he had left his hotown and taken a ship to Nolan. In truth, he'd begun showing signs of infection soon after boarding—as had most of the others on the ship—and had spent the entire ocean voyage drifting in and out of consciousness.
He rembered Miss Brolignans so vividly because she had offered free divinations to everyone, one of the few interesting diversions during the voyage. She had predicted that everyone on the ship would die before making landfall, but the passengers in the hold weren't angry. An unknown stowaway had brought the plague aboard, and by the ti the first person showed clear symptoms, they had all prepared themselves to accept their fate.
But the woman's divination proved wrong. In the end, Robert reached Nolan City safely, where he put down roots and eventually started a family with a wife and children. Even after all these years, Robert still occasionally dreamt of that journey hand-in-hand with death. He would never forget it.
"So, how many people on that ship actually survived?"
Jenkins remained intensely interested in the question.
"Hmm..."
Robert looked like he didn't want to talk about it, but he answered anyway:
"By the ti we docked, there were only five of us left, including the captain. A week after I went ashore, I was the only one... Strange as it sounds, I've never been sick since, except for a cold I caught once after accidentally falling into the water. Maybe it was so aftereffect of the plague... Anyway, enough of that. Let's not dwell on it."
He shook his head, his face clouded with sorrow, and took the briefcase from Jenkins's hands.
Robert's reason for visiting the shop was, indeed, "a business matter." This business pertained to the silver mine investnt project Jenkins was involved in. Robert stood conspiratorially before the counter and opened his briefcase, deliberately using his body to block the view from the door and display window, terrified that soone else might see.
"Oh, by the Sage~"
Jenkins's eyes widened in amazent, so surprised that for a mont he forgot all about their earlier conversation. To put it dramatically, his face must have been bathed in a red glow.
"Is this... a raw ruby? But didn't we invest in a silver mine?"
Inside the briefcase was a massive stone—or, to be more precise, a rough stone embedded with rubies. From the looks of it, the gems accounted for most of the stone's volu. While it couldn't compare in value to Jenkins's head-sized sapphire, it was still an astonishing find.
"Yes, we did indeed invest in a silver mine... at least, that's what it says on paper."
Robert smiled at his son. "But you didn't really believe that, did you? A two-hundred percent return on a silver mine investnt in such a short ti? Ha! Jenkins, think about it. You're considered a financial expert now."
"I think I understand."
After an explanation like that, Jenkins would have to be a fool not to understand. He reached out and ran his hand over the surface of the raw stone in the case:
"So, is this for tax purposes? Or sothing else?"
"A bit of both. Silver mines and gem mines are treated very differently—it's incredibly complicated to explain. But high profits always require a few little tricks. See this? It was dug out yesterday from deep within a newly opened tunnel, and besides , no one else knows it exists."
"Oh, that is impressive, indeed."
Jenkins nodded again but offered no opinion on the matter. As a beneficiary of the sche, and not being one with a particularly strict moral compass, he certainly wasn't going to object to earning more gold pounds.
"But you didn't co all this way just to show this off to , did you?"
Jenkins patted the stone. Just then, Chocolate padded over, stuck his head into the case for a sniff, and imdiately recoiled with a look of disdain.
"Of course not."
Robert shook his head and closed the briefcase. He declined Jenkins's offer of tea and straightened his dark blue tie:
"Your mother and I have discussed it, and you're of marrying age now. We both feel we must do sothing for you. So, take this. Find a good craftsman to have it cut and polished into jewelry, and then give it to a young lady you admire. Today is the first day of the Month of the Sun and Revival, and Mary insists that before the end of the month, you bring ho a young woman wearing this piece for dinner..."
"Father, this is..."
Jenkins was so taken aback he interrupted Robert, a breach of etiquette, but Robert didn't give him a chance to continue.
He spoke to Jenkins with a rare sternness, a tone that dredged up so of the original Jenkins's unpleasant childhood mories:
"Jenkins, I know this is a bit sudden, but it's the right thing to do. Think about it—how old are you now? We're very worried about you. I don't care what ans you have to use, but by the last day of this month, we want to see you at our doorstep with a young woman. It shouldn't be too difficult for you; Bishop Parrold was discussing this very matter with us last week."
Jenkins had anticipated that Papa Oliver might let sothing slip about Hathaway and Briny, but he never imagined the complication would co from the Bishop:
"But, Father..."
He tried to interject again, but the elder Williams was clearly one step ahead:
"No 'buts.' I know the finest gem cutter in the city, but I have no intention of introducing him to you. Jenkins, you will take this stone, have it polished and set, present it as a gift, and then bring that lucky young lady ho. Consider this the final test I'm giving you on your path to maturity. Now, go and do it, Jenkins."
"But, Father..."
"I have faith that you can do it. And your mother and I are just as resolved about this as we were six months ago when we decided to send you to learn a trade. Only this ti, you won't get off the hook with so stroke of luck."
Robert stared calmly into Jenkins's eyes. Jenkins instinctively wanted to look away, but he forced himself to et his father's gaze, reminding himself that he was Jenkins Redemptor Williams.
"Alright. I understand, Father."
In the end, he could only bite the bullet and agree, at which Robert finally nodded.
He realized his words had been a bit harsh, and Robert had never truly had the heart to scold his second son—the one who resembled him most. His tone softened slightly as he offered a word of caution:
"And really, you don't need to feel pressured, Jenkins. Mary and I know your situation—Bishop Parrold explained everything in great detail. This isn't a dinner invitation in the strictest sense; we just want to see if you have the courage to take this step. You can tell your companion exactly what I've said. I'm sure no young woman would refuse such an invitation."
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