Sealing Room Candle: When lit within an enclosed space where any opening is less than one-tenth the area of the largest horizontal plane, the space enters a sealed state for the duration of the candle's burn. During this ti, it is impossible to enter from the outside by any ans, nor can the interior be viewed. However, the inside of the sealed space remains completely unaffected by this item.
Addendum: Under no circumstances should this item, while burning, be placed inside a living organism.
The docunt Jenkins had found included a blurry, black-and-white photograph. The candle's shape and the strange patterns etched onto its surface were strikingly similar to the one he had seen in the possession of the Corpse Gentleman.
"Perhaps this is one of the reasons the Corpse Gentleman dares to hide out in a morgue."
Jenkins thought to himself.
At the last gathering, he had struck a deal with Miss Bailing to trade an item for a special chain ability within two weeks. But now, in what felt like the blink of an eye, the next eting was only two days away, and Jenkins still hadn't acquired an Extraordinary item he could trade without revealing his identity.
He could only hope Miss Bailing hadn't found another buyer yet.
The first floor of the Secret Trace Library contained very little information on Mysterious Objects. In one catalog, Jenkins found the designation for the Soul Nest: A-12-3-7123, but there was no other useful content.
Quite coincidentally, the very next entry was for the Shard of Death's Cloak.
"I wonder if they've found that audacious killer yet."
Jenkins muttered.
"Unfortunately, not yet. He has fled in the direction of New Truman City."
The voice, appearing suddenly in the silent library, gave Jenkins a start. He spun around to find a stranger standing behind him, dressed in a black bowler hat with a pair of gleaming black boots on his feet.
"Hello, Mr. Williams."
He smiled apologetically and gestured toward the distant bronze doors, which had opened once more. "My na is Rogers Benz, from Captain Bincy's squad. The team that went out to sea has returned, and the captain needs your help with treatnt. The healer who accompanied them was... unfortunately killed in action."
"No problem."
Jenkins gave a slight wave, set down the book he was holding, and followed Benz out of the Secret Trace Library.
Their destination was the sa suburban sanatorium where he had stayed before. They leaped from the carriage under a hazy, gray sky and hurried through a gate guarded by several tall n. Captain Bincy suddenly appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Jenkins by the arm and pulling him into a run toward the main building.
"I checked Pops's for you, but you weren't there. Figured you'd be at the church. You've got your work cut out for you today."
The sanatorium ahead didn't look particularly peaceful. The sky was still obscured by grim clouds and dust, but at least the team was back.
Even as a Level 1 Enchanter, Jenkins's spirit was still limited. He could only prioritize the most grievously wounded, then take a seat in the hallway, watching as other Enchanters continually inscribed magical arrays for healing rituals upon the walls. ŕÀΝốᛒЕs
In the distance, he could faintly hear the hiss of steam, though he had no idea what was going on.
"It's a good thing we have you."
Bincy sat down beside Jenkins. His main role here was security and ergency coordination. A rugged, bearded man nad Jerry Schleich sat down on Jenkins's other side.
He was another mber of Bincy's team, just back from the expedition.
The long bench they sat on was cobbled together from discarded brass pipes. The Church was extraordinarily wealthy, but for so reason, they had chosen to be frugal here.
"Are healers really that rare?" Jenkins asked. "Why not ask the Church of All Things and Nature or the followers of Mother Earth for help? If I rember correctly..."
"We must keep our own secrets. That's the rule," Bincy cut in. "Even though we're all Orthodox Churches, to each other, we're still just believers of a different faith."
Jenkins watched as another body, draped in a yellow linen sheet, was carried out. He pressed his lips into a thin line. The man had been afflicted by a strange curse, one that he and the other two healers had been powerless against. All they could do was grant him a painless death.
"On a brighter note,"
Bincy began, "we were planning to wait for the main forces of the various churches to return before dealing with the haunting at the hospital. But it seems soone has taken care of that little problem for us."
"Oh?"
Jenkins turned, feigning surprise. "Who?"
"Divination revealed it was the sa black-robed man who took the Mysterious Object during the thunderstorm. We misjudged the situation; the haunting was connected to a Mysterious Object after all, and he made off with it. Our current theory is that he's systematically collecting these items for so unknown purpose. The internal Church bounty on him has been raised to one thousand pounds. After all, who knows how many other strange things he's carrying?"
"That makes sense."
he agreed.
"The divinations also indicated a strong connection between the constellations that appeared last night and the black-robed man. For now, we're classifying his faith as belonging to a newly erged pseudo-god. He's likely trying to curry favor with his deity by collecting these items. And this new 'great being' is probably not a benevolent one."
Jenkins drew in a sharp breath. "How terrifying! May the Goddess punish him."
They discussed the matter for a little while longer before Jenkins rembered Schleich sitting beside him, completely in the dark. He then started to fill the man in on the recent events in Nolan.
"The black-robed man... is he the one ntioned on the parchnt...?"
he asked, his voice low and muffled, but Captain Bincy imdiately kicked him.
There was clearly sothing going on that Jenkins wasn't privy to.
"Classified?"
Jenkins wondered, but didn't press the issue. He simply raised his head and gazed at a large painting hanging on the yellowed wall across from them. Based on what he'd learned from Pops and the style of the silverware depicted in the banquet scene, it was a modern piece.
An awkward silence settled over the three of them.
Surgery was a relatively new dical technique. Professors at the dical college had yet to find a suitable suture material, and the high failure rate of operations deterred most ordinary patients.
For Enchanters, however—especially those from the Nolan diocese of the Church of Knowledge and Books—it wasn't an issue. The Soul Trait Ability of a Scribe who had joined this year, as it happened, was precisely wound-healing.
As Jenkins worked, he paid close attention to the nature of the injuries. He noticed they were all bizarrely varied, with no consistent pattern. This ant the conflict on the Shattered Archipelago hadn't been caused by an out-of-control Mysterious Object, but by a battle between Enchanters.
"Mr. Williams, we really couldn't have done this without you."
A man in a white coat remarked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he watched Jenkins press his hand to the chest of the patient on the operating table.
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