Once war broke out, the peace and tranquility of Nolan City would be shattered. The worlds of the mysterious and the supernatural would be laid bare before the eyes of ordinary people. The quiet, peaceful life Jenkins longed for might very well cease to exist.
"All we can do now," Bevanna continued, "is weaken the forces of the undead as much as possible before that war begins. The incident at the hospital might be just the first of many. Jenkins, you need to be ready."
His mind heavy with worry, Jenkins didn't even think to ask if his combat lessons for the day would be rescheduled. Miss Bevanna simply saw him back to St. George Avenue.
St. George Avenue seed untouched by the evening's earthquake; the neighborhood remained as peaceful and serene as ever. As he took out his key, he stole a glance toward his neighbor's house. A light was on in the second-floor window of Miss Silver Flute's ho, but it was late, and she was probably about to go to sleep.
The next morning, he was woken by Papa Oliver, who, upon entering the house, had also gathered the milk, newspaper, and letters from the doorstep for him.
He wouldn't be going to Pops Antique Shop today. Papa Oliver had to help out at the church and attend to so personal matters. The churches in Nolan had practically shifted to a war footing. Every field agent besides Jenkins, along with a significant portion of the clerical staff, had been recalled to report in and receive new assignnts, unless their position was too specialized to leave vacant.
The decision to exclude Jenkins had been unanimous. It was for everyone's benefit.
"I was going to find soone to keep an eye on you, but we're just too short-staffed right now."
Jenkins invited Papa Oliver to stay for breakfast. Now, both the old man and Chocolate were at the dining table, but only the cat seed to have any appetite.
"Don't worry, I won't be wandering around anyti soon," Jenkins promised.
"You say that every ti. Yesterday..."
"Please, let's not talk about yesterday."
The painful mory of being turned into a mouse made him instinctively glance at Chocolate. The cat, feigning ignorance of Jenkins's murderous glare, remained sprawled on the table, batting at a freshly folded napkin with one paw.
"In any case, I'll be very busy for a while, so we probably won't have ti for your lessons. I'll write you a reading list in a bit. You can use that to pass the ti."
"No problem," Jenkins nodded. He wasn't eager to find trouble if he didn't have to.
"And another thing—be careful about the plague. The one from thirty years ago was a bit weaker against Enchanters, but we can't let our guard down. Speaking of which, are you still going to Shire City?"
At this, Papa Oliver's energy seed to return.
"Probably this weekend. I have a few other things to take care of over the next couple of days," Jenkins replied as he placed a plate of eggs and a glass of warm milk on the table.
"I won't ask what you're up to, but you must be careful. Also, about Hathaway and Briny..."
The mont Jenkins heard those two nas, his face flushed a brilliant red. His mind went fuzzy as he listened to the old man's inquiry, and he stamred an excuse about trying his best, which, to his surprise, piqued Papa Oliver's interest.
Normally, when this topic ca up, Jenkins would deftly change the subject with considerable skill. But not today.
Papa Oliver simply drank his milk and left, with many more matters to attend to. As usual, the kitchen was left to Jenkins and his cat. He decided to open the unexpected letters before looking at the newspaper.
The first was from Mr. Brol, the bookseller. He would be visiting Jenkins tomorrow morning to deliver his first month's share of the profits. Mr. Brol must have struck it rich recently; he had never used such expensive stationery in their previous correspondence.
The second was from Laurel Onis, the lawyer Jenkins had recently hired to handle so legal questions. Mr. Onis was also the executor of Viscount Augustus's estate, and since Jenkins was a supervisor of the proceedings, they often exchanged letters.
The envelope bore the law firm's seal, so it was undoubtedly related to the inheritance. Sure enough, Mr. Onis was writing to inform Jenkins that an antique from the 6th-century Sicari Empire, owned by the late Viscount, was scheduled for auction soon.
He hoped Jenkins could be present as a witness. Apart from the manor, this was likely the most valuable item the Viscount had owned.
"Ten o'clock this morning..."
Mr. Onis knew Jenkins had a daily routine, so he probably hadn't expected him to be able to spare ti on a weekday morning. Otherwise, he wouldn't have sent the letter on the very day of the auction.
"Should I go?" he asked Chocolate, though deep down, he didn't want to. Going out almost always ant trouble.
Despite this thought, he locked the door and headed to the black market to et the Huntress. The investigation into his new neighbor was a short-term request, and after hearing the details, the Huntress had deed it a simple task. That was why Jenkins had co for the results the very next day.
The Huntress's report was as detailed as ever. It revealed that his neighbor, Miss Silver Flute—or Mistara Folant—had moved because she was short on money.
She had previously lived in a three-story luxury apartnt in the city center, but she had recently sold it and found the house on St. George Avenue through a real estate agent.
"She needs money for the auction? What does she want?"
"I don't know. It's hard to find that out with just one night's investigation. By the way, the auction at the Golden Bunting Auction House starts in about an hour. That tip's on the house, since you're a regular custor."
The Huntress looked like she was still half-asleep. It was, after all, still quite early.
"Golden Bunting..."
Fate seed to enjoy weaving all sorts of coincidences around Jenkins. The auction ntioned in the lawyer's morning letter was being organized by that very sa company.
The Golden Bunting Auction House was located at 43 Vail Five-Star Street, on the east bank of the Westminster River. The street was one of Nolan's main thoroughfares, and together with six other intersecting streets, it ford the city's central district.
The late winter weather was pleasant, though the stone pavent was still damp from the blizzard a few days prior. Colorful banners, decorations from last week's welco for a foreign delegation, were strung between the towering buildings on either side of the street.
Even though he hadn't truly expected Jenkins to show up, Mr. Onis was waiting for him at the entrance to the auction house. They spotted each other from a distance and waved. Just then, the winter sun finally pierced the thick fog that had been shrouding the city, its rays illuminating the land chosen by fate.
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