Graves' Coffeehouse, 3 Pinkerton Street.
After ordering their food and drinks, Abel and Henry went and occupied the fifth booth from the left, closest to the rear exit.
Although it was midday, the front room was lively with all kinds of custors, young and old. So were hunched over books, while others were engaged in debates about politics or literature.
As the pair waited for their food to arrive, Henry had already retrieved his smoking pipe and tobacco pouch from his coat's inner pocket.
Seeing him place the finely cut tobacco inside the bowl, Abel asked curiously, "How is it that every random man I see is either smoking a cigar or, like you, smoking from a pipe?"
He found this very common in Newport. Every ti he t the Director, John Kensington, the man would always have a cigar in hand. The sa was true for Henry, except he would always be smoking from a pipe.
Henry exhaled the smoke after savoring its flavor for a few monts. "It is a symbol of masculinity, my friend. To be an Albion gentleman is to be a man who smokes."
Abel was dumbfounded by that reasoning. He let out a scornful chuckle, "Yeah whatever, man."
"It's true," Henry spoke seriously. "In fact, it is rather uncommon for a man not to smoke. So might even find it rather peculiar. You ought to give it a try."
Abel squinted his eyes, gazing at the finely crafted pipe in Henry's hand and the tobacco in the leather pouch. A few monts later, he shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."
"You are... good?" Henry frowned slightly. "Am I to understand that you do not wish to give it a try?"
"You know it." Abel nodded.
"Ah, I see," Henry muttered in understanding. "I am slowly getting used to the way you speak."
"That reminds ," he said suddenly. "Miss Thompson has suggested that I assist you in learning social ettiquetes—proper speech, manners, and the like."
"Sure, that would be nice." Abel did not take any offense at all. Instead, he gladly welcod it.
He knew just how much he stood out because of his speech mannerisms from the 21st century. Despite assimilating all of the previous Abel's mories, so things didn't change so easily.
"By the way, where is she?" He asked curiously. "I don't think I saw her at the Trust."
"She doesn't work here," said Henry, placing the pipe on the table and leaning back in his seat. "Miss Thompson lives in Winchester. She only visits during the holidays to visit her family."
"Gotcha." Abel nodded in understanding. He then quickly explained, "It ans 'got it'."
Henry chuckled. "You are a very strange man."
"Ah, it's sothing I picked up while staying amongst working-class people on Millbrook Street, you know." Abel shrugged, casually lying through his teeth.
Right at that mont, the server brought their food and drinks on a tray.
Henry had only ordered tea for himself, whereas Abel had ordered black coffee and potted shrimp—a local delicacy where the shrimp was preserved in butter and spices and then spread on toast and served.
In his past life, Abel was unable to live the life of a true foodie, cursed with forever eating takeouts. In this life, however, he made it a mission to travel around the globe and experience the great cuisines it had to offer.
"Speaking of which," said Henry after taking a sip of the tea, "isn't it about ti you moved out of that building on Millbrook Street?"
He tried to be respectful and polite about this topic, considering Abel's background wasn't as affluent as his. But even he didn't expect the youth's response.
"I am dying to move out of that place!" Abel grumbled. "The living conditions are poor! Too poor, I say!"
Henry's lips twitched and he asked in confusion, "Then why do you live there?"
"It's not like I had a choice, man." Abel rolled his eyes. "Just because I attended the University of Newport doesn't an I'm wealthy, yeah?"
"My apologies," Henry said sincerely, "I ant no offense."
"None taken." Abel waved his hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it, man. Anyways, you were gonna tell about the job benefits besides the high pay."
"Right." Henry nodded. He took a sip from the teacup before explaining, "As you may have gathered from your employnt contract, security consultantssuch as ourselves are held in high regard.
"Given the dangerous and discreet nature of our work, the Trust ensures that we receive generous benefits to maintain efficiency and—"
"Loyalty," Abel interjected.
Henry nodded with a light smile. "Precisely." He paused, taking another sip from the cup and then clearing his tobacco bowl.
"These benefits include housing, provisions for food, dical care, legal protection, training and education, hazard pay, equipnt provisions, and more."
The youth put fresh tobacco into the bowl and inhaled a puff. A mont later, he continued, "Let us begin with housing. The Trust maintains safehouses strategically located throughout the city, ensuring that individuals in our line of work always have a secure place to rest, plan, and regroup."
He paused for a mont before adding, "You will find all pertinent details regarding these in your letter of assignnt."
Abel nodded. John Kensington had ntioned this to him earlier. "Does the Trust not directly provide, like... townhouses and flats for its, eh... security consultants?"
Henry chuckled. "Not for entry-level n like us. Though, after several years of service, you may be given the option of ho ownership."
"I already know about the food, dical care, and legal protection," said Abel. "What's this about training and education?"
"Combat training, including firearms, blades, hand-to-hand combat," Henry began, setting down the pipe on the table. "Linguistic training for foreign assignnt, forgery, and espionage skills for undercover work, and finally..."
Henry paused, his lips forming a smirk. "My favorite—training in the occult arts!"
Abel's eyes shone like the brightest of stars. "Occult arts! How soon can I begin learning those?" He asked excitedly.
"I suppose you will be able to start as soon as tomorrow," said Henry, recalling his own routine when he had first beco an Occultist a few months prior. "Your training across various fields will comnce side by side, so prepare yourself. You are about to get very busy, my friend."
"And where does training in the occult take place? At the Trust?"
Henry shook his head. "That happens in one of the three containnt sites in Newport."
"Ohh!" Abel was very fascinated. "What's the front for this one? A factory? Or perhaps a shipyard?"
Henry chuckled, "You'll find out soon enough."
"Tsk, you're no fun," Abel grumbled. He dug into his plate of potted shrimp, thoroughly enjoying his al.
He asked after taking a sip of his black coffee which had gone slightly cold, "What are the other benefits?"
"Equipnt & weaponry provision," Henry said as he lifted his coat slightly, just enough to reveal the outline of his underarm holster. His lips curled up into a knowing smirk.
Abel's eyes widened. "No way!"
"Heh," Henry chuckled with a smug expression on his face. "You will be issued standard firearms and lee weapons, but only after completing your training."
"Of course," he added, "your gun permit and license will also be taken care of by the Trust."
"And you've already completed your training? And even received the permit? That's... aweso!" Abel remarked.
"Yes, of course." Henry nodded. "I beca a security consultant for the Trust in May."
Thinking back to the ti when he had undergone the awakening ritual and his subsequent visit to the Spirit Crucible, he sighed, "It was already difficult enough for , and I awakened through a safe ritual. I cannot even begin to imagine what you must have gone through, Abel."
He struck a match and inhaled the smoke from his pipe before saying sincerely, "I must say, Abel, you were truly blessed by fortune, not only to have survived that near-death experience but to have also awakened the old way and endured the First Trial!"
Thinking of how his words might have co across, Henry quickly corrected himself, "That's not to say you didn't survive on your own rits. I'm sure that you..."
However, Abel was no longer listening to him. His hand had involuntarily reached out for the cursed coin inside his pants pocket.
His heart was gripped by terror, all of a sudden,
Blessed by fortune? Abel repeated Henry's words in stunned silence.
How can that be possible when I'm cursed by this coin? The previous Abel was cursed by this coin to such a degree that it cost him his life!
To say that I'm blessed by fortune... Impossible!
Beware of the coin!
He recalled the previous Abel's warning.
At that mont, he felt the weight of the cursed coin increase severalfold.
From his mories, he knew that the coin was cursed and that it had bestowed imnse misfortune to the previous Abel.
Yet now, the things that were happening to him caused Abel to beco highly suspicious.
Just what was this cursed coin? What were its origins?
But there was one thing that Abel was certain of after experiencing all that he had since coming to this strange world.
That the cursed coin was an item that the Ministry would designate as... an Anomolous Object!
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