Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 33: Gang War?
Papa Oliver pulled Jenkins inside, explaining in a low voice, "The Fidektri Kingdom levies exorbitant taxes on antiques coming in and out of the country, so you get fishermen and ship owners willing to do a bit of smuggling on the side. These items don't just hit the open market. They pass through the hands of us industry insiders first."
He added in a hushed tone:
"They're not a proper gang, just an established smuggling crew. They call themselves the Sea Skull Serpent Association, but they're really just a mix of dockworkers, fishing boat captains, and local antique dealers. The fellow at the door was Little Jimmy, a well-known pickpocket from the slums. Don't say a word. Just stick close behind me. This is just for you to see how things work."
"But... isn't this illegal?"
Jenkins hesitated, leaving the question unfinished.
"Of course it is," Papa Oliver replied. "But where there's light, there's shadow. You're a twenty-year-old man now. Surely you don't still believe everything is black and white?"
"Of course I know that."
Jenkins feigned a look of sudden understanding, but inwardly, he was musing to himself. The original Jenkins was a good-for-nothing wastrel. If he accepted all this so readily, it would be downright suspicious.
The space was a makeshift warehouse, created by knocking down the walls between three bungalows and gutting them of all furniture and plumbing. Besides the lookouts and the man in charge, five or six sellers were currently inside.
Papa Oliver pointed out that, in addition to fellow antique dealers, there was even a history professor from the local university among them.
Trailing behind Papa Oliver, Jenkins surveyed the array of pots, jars, and metal containers spread across the floor. He discreetly raised a hand to his temple.
He gave the place a quick scan. In the vision of his Eye of Reality, the only object glowing in the entire warehouse was a single band of light on the ground before him and Papa Oliver.
"I knew my luck couldn't be that good."
But on the bright side, it also meant their trip was unlikely to run into any unexpected trouble. So, Jenkins dutifully trailed after Papa Oliver, watching him haggle with the sellers.
Half an hour later, only two buyers were left. Having purchased nothing, Papa Oliver led Jenkins toward a small door on the far side of the warehouse. A middle-aged man in a black hat gave Papa Oliver a nod, and the two of them slipped out the small door.
After another ten minutes of walking in silence, just as Papa Oliver had instructed, they finally stopped before a dilapidated little building. Its exterior was almost entirely covered in a web of crawling steam pipes.
They pushed open the door to find a scruffy, middle-aged man sprawled on a tattered sofa, squinting as he puffed on some cheap, foul-smelling tobacco. Jenkins had to force himself not to breathe.
"Papa Oliver? What brings you here?"
The man scrambled up in surprise, flicking his wrist to extinguish the match before exhaling a plume of pale yellow smoke from the corner of his mouth.
"What in the world are you smoking?"
Papa Oliver wrinkled his nose, covering it with a hand. "Brown, isn't there a new shipment in from the docks? Don't try to pass off that junk from the warehouse on me. I'm not that old and foolish yet. I've brought my new apprentice along to get his feet wet, so don't you dare embarrass me!"
"This is the good stuff. Costs a pound for just a pinch."
Brown shook the thing in his hand proudly, then gestured to the sofa.
"Alright, alright. Since you've taken on a new apprentice, I'll bring out the *real* good stuff. Have a seat. I'll be right back."
With that, he walked straight past them and out the door, leaving them alone in the bare room with the single, dilapidated sofa.
"Now *that* is a real gangster," Papa Oliver explained in a low tone. "Rumor has it he's the public frontman for one of Nolan's big nobles. Whether it's for the antique trade or... our other duties for the Church, he's the kind of man you go to when you need to find certain things. People in our line of work have to deal with his sort often."
Papa Oliver's tone was heavy with meaning, but Jenkins was more surprised by the old man's demeanor.
Sure enough, there's not a single normal merchant in the antique business.
As he waited with Papa Oliver, Jenkins wondered if the "new shipment" could be the same smuggled goods that Miss Skylark had mentioned at the secret gathering.
The wait stretched on, and Papa Oliver showed no inclination to talk. Bored, Jenkins tapped his temple again, only to be startled by the sight of a faint golden glow emanating from a corner of the room.
Compared to the brilliant badge he'd seen by the hospital bed a few days ago, this golden light was dull, like tarnished metal.
"What could that be?"
He wondered, but kept the thought to himself. After all, he had no plausible reason to know something was hidden beneath the floorboards.
"Is that Mr. Brown an ordinary person, or an unregistered Enchanter? Damn it. I need to get in the habit of checking every stranger I meet."
As his thoughts drifted, an idea suddenly surfaced: he could come back tonight, dressed in that black robe, and steal whatever was hidden in the corner.
"You're insane!"
He almost laughed at his own foolishness. He didn't have the skills of a master thief, for one thing. More importantly, he was a respectable man with a decent job now. To risk it all for a bit of greedy thievery would be the height of folly. One misstep and he could lose everything.
"Whatever's over there, it has nothing to do with me."
Nodding to himself, pleased with his own moral fortitude, Jenkins dragged his gaze away from the corner. Then, to his surprise, he noticed three clusters of light gathering outside the building.
He already knew his Eye of Reality could perceive spiritual auras through solid objects; he'd discovered as much during his first examination with Bincy. He'd tested it since then and found the range depended on the aura's intensity and the thickness of the barrier. It was a shame he couldn't quantify the auras' strength—otherwise, Jenkins was certain he could have worked out a precise mathematical formula for it.
Unfortunately, all the ability revealed was the aura itself, nothing more.
"Enchanters?"
The thought sent a jolt through him. He realized the three clusters of light were growing larger—they were closing in on the building, and fast.
"Look out!"
To his surprise, Papa Oliver shouted the warning even before Jenkins could. The old man's eyes, which had been closed in rest, snapped open. In a flash, his aged hand went to his waist and came back with a pistol.
"Something's wrong,"
he muttered, raising the pistol and getting to his feet to face the door.
Jenkins scrambled to his feet as well. A faint crackling sound drifted in from outside. Through his Eye of Reality, he saw the three clusters of light tangling together, one of them flaring brilliantly every few moments.
Without a word, Papa Oliver fished a cartridge from his pocket and tossed it to Jenkins:
"Stay put. Load this into your pistol. It's a consecrated round—especially lethal against followers of heretical gods."
With that, he dashed nimbly out the door. Jenkins only caught a glimpse of the scene outside: a swarm of black insects was erupting from the shadows at Mr. Brown's feet, surging toward two unfamiliar men.
Chapter 33: Gang War?
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