As he neared the riverbank, preparing to cross, a dazed flower seller at the street corner caught Jenkins's attention. She was shabbily dressed, her small basket held in a grip of pure despair. She would timidly approach every passerby, but not a single person chose to buy her flowers.
"I'm on my way to invite soone to dinner," he reasoned. "It feels a bit impolite to arrive empty-handed. A bouquet would make a perfect gift."
Having found a suitable excuse, he beckoned for Chocolate to halt their advance. They temporarily deviated from their path, crossing the street to the other side of the intersection, where Jenkins began to rummage through his pockets for loose change.
He never gave large bills to these poor children; such a sum was more likely to bring them trouble than aid.
The conversation with the flower seller took a considerable amount of ti. At first, the little girl was terrified of Jenkins's kindness, apparently mistaking him for a human trafficker or so other dreadful figure. Fortunately, Chocolate's appearance was charming enough that when the girl saw such an adorable kitten willing to be close to Jenkins, her guard lowered just enough for him to approach.
By the ti he set off again with a bouquet of fresh flowers in hand, nearly twenty minutes had passed. Thus, when he saw the desperate man standing by the bridge ahead, Jenkins wasn't the least bit surprised.
"Looks like he really was fired."
That kind of despair was impossible to fake. The man clutched his black briefcase, staring down at the river below. Even from behind, you could feel the crushing weight of his mood.
"He's not thinking of taking his own life, is he?" Jenkins wondered.
He held the flowers in his left hand and took out his pocket watch with his right. Seeing that it was still early, he strolled along the edge of the bridge until he was beside the man, then casually stopped as if enjoying the view.
"The weather's still so awful today. I haven't seen a spring like this in years."
Talking about the weather was an excellent way to break the ice. Jenkins hoped his delivery sounded natural enough.
As expected, the man beside him didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the murky water below.
Chocolate rubbed against his boot. The kitten, it seed, already had a clever idea for the evening's dinner party.
"But life is still beautiful, isn't it? Look at this river. No matter what stones get in its way, it just keeps flowing forward."
Jenkins wasn't a natural at giving pep talks. His powers of persuasion were, in fact, quite low... probably.
The man still didn't acknowledge him.
"We t just a little while ago, you know? I happened to bump into you on the street. Oh, man, you were running fast. What's wrong now? Cheer up. Even if you lost your job, you can find a new one. My neighbor lost his job just before winter, but he found a new one soon after, and it pays even more gold pounds."
The man remained silent, his face a mask of terrifying despair. His overcoat looked cheap, and its cuffs bore the marks of nding. The seamstress had done a poor job; the stitches were a chaotic ss.
"Well, that's all I have to say. Just a friendly reminder, though—the ice on the river hasn't completely lted yet. If you happen to fall in, you're not very likely to die."
He reached out and patted the middle-aged man's shoulder, then continued across the bridge with the cat in tow. That was enough. Jenkins had done all he could. Besides, judging by the man's final, startled expression, his desire to die wasn't all that strong to begin with.
"The air really is getting worse," Jenkins mused as he stepped off the bridge. He ambled along behind the inexplicably cheerful kitten, feeling like a servant accompanying his king on a royal outing.
"If I were king, the first thing I'd do is pass a law restricting illegal emissions. But the developnt of the steam industry can't be halted, either. We're in an era of great change, and it's never wise to go against the current of the tis."
As these random thoughts drifted through his mind, he paused at an intersection for a carriage to pass and, for so reason, found himself thinking of Miss Windsor.
"Rather than letting so foreign stranger succeed the king, it would be much better if Miss Windsor beca the new queen of the Fidektri Kingdom, wouldn't it?"
"ow~"
The cat's cry was inscrutable.
"That soul storm from Skryu Pompey's sword was a real pain. Next ti I go out, I must rember to bring my Fantasy Flower. It just needs a large number of souls to complete its final growth."
The image of himself walking around town with a flowerpot and a cat suddenly struck Jenkins as rather comical.
The old artisan's shop was tucked away in an alley not far from the riverbank. Turning the corner, he saw the shop's door was wide open.
After carefully stepping around so unidentifiable droppings in the middle of the alley, he walked inside. The old craftsman was wearing what looked like a sophisticated monocle and was peering intently at a necklace, turning a small brass gear next to his eye as he examined it.
A blue gem was set in the center of the necklace, but its luster seed slightly off.
"Please wait a mont, Mr. Williams," the artisan said. "I'll go get your jewelry set right away."
"You recognized my footsteps?" Jenkins asked, surprised that the man knew who it was without even looking up.
"No, I heard your cat ow."
The raw stone Robert had given Jenkins was indeed a fine piece of material. According to the artisan, once he ground away the outer crust, the inside was almost entirely pure gemstone.
Because there was more material than anticipated, he had been able to create more jewelry. The original plan was for a single complete set, including a hairpin, a pair of earrings, a necklace, a ring, a brooch, and five buttons. It sounded like a lot, but the precious tals were the main expense; the gems were rely for adornnt.
Upon discovering the surplus of material, the artisan had ticulously crafted two full sets of jewelry, both with exquisitely designed styles. The fee he charged was a perfect match for his skill—a shop recomnded by Papa Oliver was absolutely reliable.
The two sets of jewelry rested in a black carrying case. The interior was lined with foam cutouts shaped for each piece and covered in black velvet, allowing the gems to shimr quietly against the dark fabric.
"Two sets might be a bit much," Jenkins thought. "I wonder if Hathaway will accept so many."
He left the shop with a polite farewell and made his way out of the alley onto the main street. Peering through the thick fog, he spotted a carriage stopped at an intersection up ahead. He quickened his pace, ready to set off to find Hathaway.
Chocolate's interest in wandering seed to have been exhausted. Ever since leaving the shop, it had remained perched on Jenkins's shoulder. It took an incredible sense of balance, a feat only such a clever kitten could manage.
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