Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 27: A Time of Troubles
Across the four-page newspaper, the boldest headline announced the Nolan Council's plans to upgrade the steam pipes. While this was undoubtedly significant news for the average citizen, Jenkins had already learned of it at the secret gathering.
"Mr. Black Cat must have some official connections," he mused.
He made the casual speculation as he scanned the rest of the paper: police department bounties, minor skirmishes on the kingdom's borders, strange rumors from the seas off Nolan. Nothing of any real value, and certainly nothing that could hold his interest for the next half hour.
It was an official paper, after all. Anyone hoping for juicy gossip about the nobility would have to keep on dreaming.
"Good morning, Pops."
"Good morning, Williams."
After exchanging greetings, they began another day.
Transcription was a struggle for Jenkins again that day. A dizzying fog clouded his mind until the noon break, though he did manage to finish the task a little faster than before.
His studies still consisted of reading. The difference today was that, in addition to the history books and the antique appraisal guide from the local university, there was a new volume: "Basics: An Introduction for Enchanters." It covered fundamental knowledge and even taught a few simple rituals.
"It's an internal publication of the Church," Pops explained, "but it circulates to some extent among Enchanters from the other Orthodox Churches and even among those unregistered fellows."
That was Pops's explanation, and it certainly aligned with the doctrines of the Church of Knowledge and Books. But Jenkins couldn't help but wonder: wouldn't circulating something like this indirectly encourage an increase in unregistered Enchanters?
It was a strange contradiction. Was the Church actively undermining the Enchanters Registration Act? Or was there some other secret at play?
Jenkins kept the question to himself, knowing that even if he asked, Pops certainly wouldn't have an answer.
Jenkins also asked about the aftermath of the previous day's events. He learned not only that the elderly Mr. Smith was the Church's "Keeper of Secrets" for the Nolan diocese, but also that the incident involving A-01-2-0198 had been ed to the other four major churches in the city.
Pops planned to stay close to home for the next few weeks. Nolan City was in the midst of a rare and troublesome period.
"Can't the Enchanter teams from the five major churches figure something out? The whole business with that octopus still isn't resolved, is it?"
Jenkins complained deliberately.
"The octopus situation has been put on the back burner for now."
Pops shrugged. "A major incident occurred last week at the Broken Isles, off the coast of Nolan. Two-thirds of the Church's combat units are out at sea. Otherwise, given the seriousness of what happened last night, Bincy wouldn't have been qualified to participate."
A major incident?
For some reason, Jenkins recalled the "strange rumors" mentioned in the newspaper, but Pops clearly had no intention of elaborating. He simply offered a monotonous warning: "Talk less and do more. When you're out, don't gawk at everything, and if you see a fight, you walk the other way."
During his lunch break, Jenkins borrowed Pops's backyard to test his new ability. The results were impressive. By infusing spirit into his legs, he could achieve speeds that would have surpassed even the top track-and-field athletes of his previous life. The ability also enhanced his balance—a passive bonus to his fundamental physical attributes.
Only two customers entered Pops Antique Shop the entire day. One just browsed, though he looked more like a potential shoplifter, while the other haggled with Pops for ages before finally purchasing a small sculpture of a beetle made from gears.
It looked more like a piece of art than a true antique.
The next few days passed without any unexpected incidents. Jenkins's life became a routine of shuttling between his family's home and Pops Antique Shop, which only solidified his resolve to move out.
He grew more proficient at transcribing the strange text, and the physical discomfort lessened with each attempt. It was a good sign. Jenkins could finally feel a subtle, cool current emerging from his fingertips and flowing into his mind as he wrote.
He suspected it was related to the flower in his stomach, which was still radiating spirit and had enhanced his sensitivity to it.
Still, the accumulation was slow. The spirit from the flower and his transcriptions combined couldn't yet match what he had gained from the Mysterious Realm. But Mysterious Realms were rare and incredibly dangerous. Pops had scoffed at the very thought, telling Jenkins to keep his feet on the ground and continue accumulating spirit the proper, steady way.
Jenkins had also "unlocked" a new location in Nolan City: the Oil Ink Mister Club in the docklands. On the surface, the club merely hosted periodic reading salons, but its basement was secretly a firearms training range.
Carrying a firearm in Nolan City required a license, making the range obviously illegal.
Pops had sent Jenkins there because low-level Enchanters had limited means of attack, making firearms a common necessity. He told Jenkins not to worry—while the place was illegal, the owner had connections at city hall. The police department knew all about it but always turned a blind eye.
He clicked his tongue. "So, this is how the world works these days."
The firearms training consumed more of his money and squeezed his schedule even tighter. As fascinating as the different guns were—the smell of gunpowder, the click of the trigger and firing pin a potent rush of adrenaline—he constantly had to invent excuses for getting home late. And to make matters worse, once the sun went down, the coachmen hiked their fares by a full twenty percent.
Jenkins pushed himself to speed up his work adapting the fairy tales, all while searching for a suitable place to move.
He kept his plans to move out a secret, intending to have the Bishop break the news to his family only after he had everything settled with his fairy tale collection.
The week passed quickly. On the weekend, Jenkins not only got the afternoon off but also received his first salary from Pops: a whole gold pound.
That was a considerable sum. Apprentices, after all, were usually expected to work for free. Jenkins considered himself incredibly lucky.
He took a small portion of his savings to buy gifts for his family and Bishop Parrold, a small celebration for his first week of work. Of course, it was also a way of signaling to those around him that "Jenkins is changing," a purchase that served two purposes at once.
July belonged to the Hermit of Fate, and August to the Master Craftsman. On the night that bridged the two months, Jenkins, who was painstakingly compiling his fairy tales, encountered something unexpected.
He was hunched over his desk, frustratedly scratching out the words he had just written.
"No, this is too childish," he muttered. "I want these stories to appeal to a wider audience."
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on the open silver pocket watch on his desk. All three hands were closing in on the twelve.
"That's enough for tonight," he decided. "Time for bed."
Jenkins stretched, rolling his neck as he set down his fountain pen. He carefully hid the manuscript, then tiptoed to the washroom on the second floor to clean up before heading to bed.
Suddenly, a whisper reached his ears.
.
!
Chapter 27: A Time of Troubles
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