Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 49: Returning from the Funeral
The battle was not going well for the Church of Knowledge and Books, so the members of the Ocean Church soon received orders for an emergency transfer. Jenkins's body could not leave the blessed pool, lest it freeze solid instantly, so they had no choice but to leave him behind.
Had Jenkins searched his pockets that night, he would have found a note explaining the situation.
Jenkins also found the young nun, Natasha, and thanked her sincerely. She was a little shy, but apparently aware that he had thwarted the cultists’ plot, she changed her form of address from "Mister" to a more deferential "Sir."
This might have been the start of a lasting romance, but Jenkins wasn't in the mood for it at the moment.
"Why did the battle last from morning until night?"
Jenkins remained puzzled by this until Captain Bincy brought Mr. Gilbert, who had come from the royal capital, into Papa Oliver’s hospital room and introduced them.
Mr. Gilbert was the man who had wielded the flaming longsword that night.
"Beneath the church, there are secret vaults for sealing away special items," he explained. "Because of the Nolan diocese's strategic importance, the sealing formations used here are especially complex. The Ice Attendant was ensnared by those ritual formations, which bought us enough time to fly directly from the royal capital by airship to provide reinforcements."
He mentioned that he wouldn't be staying long, as he was preparing to leave immediately to reinforce another squad of Scribes from the capital, who were caught up in the "Advent of the Evil God's Scion" incident.
After both men had left, Jenkins picked up his small knife and resumed torturing the apple in his hand. He and Papa Oliver chatted aimlessly, but when his eyes fell on the bouquet of flowers Captain Bincy had brought, he couldn't help but shudder.
Jenkins had recently developed a phobia of flowers; anything related to them was enough to make him flinch. Papa Oliver believed it was a psychological issue, something time would eventually smooth over.
He also hadn't forgotten the "Lord of Flowers" mentioned by the young flower seller as she left. He had asked Captain Bincy, Papa Oliver, and others about it, and had even consulted the Church's treasured theological texts. Yet no one knew if it was the name of some pseudo-god. Even Bishop Parrold, the most theologically knowledgeable person Jenkins knew, had no recollection of the title. He could only push the matter to the back of his mind for now.
Having finally finished peeling the apple, Jenkins handed it to Papa Oliver. The old man took a large bite, his mouth flooding with juice.
"Is it really over, just like that?"
Jenkins sat in the chair beside the bed, his head lowered, a sense of melancholy washing over him.
"For us, it is," replied Papa Oliver. "But the cleanup will keep them busy for a long time."
Papa Oliver chuckled, mocking the logistics personnel who were also part of the Scribes.
"Something just doesn't feel right. We went through so much in a single day... I even glimpsed the shadow of a great and terrible being. And yet, in a few days, I'll just be back to scrubbing floors at the antique shop."
Papa Oliver laughed, still holding the apple:
"Young man, the Sage teaches us to watch the path beneath our feet. Besides, we both made it out alive. That's what's most important."
As he spoke, he had Jenkins retrieve a small brown box from the bedside cabinet. Inside lay a single, ordinary-looking button.
"I had a friend from the Church of Destiny and Order in Suville City bless this in a ritual. For one month, it will slightly improve your luck. Fate is a fickle thing, I know, but this should at least nudge things in a better direction. Haven't you noticed? Ever since you became a Scribe, it's been one disaster after another."
Jenkins knew exactly what Papa Oliver was getting at. Ever since he had transmigrated, there had never been a moment of peace. Was it all just coincidence, or was there some hidden hand manipulating his fate?
"I'll let you have this button for one hundred pounds. It's a bargain, really. Just don't ask me for a salary for the next two years."
"Papa, two years is about one hundred and four weeks. You'd still owe me four pounds."
Jenkins replied with a laugh.
"I know your math is much better than your atrocious grammar. But that apple you just whittled down to a core? Four pounds."
Many lives were lost in the battle that night. The Church of Knowledge and Books held a collective funeral for them. Since Jenkins and Papa Oliver could not reveal their identities, they could only watch the municipal cemetery on the outskirts of the city from afar, from the convalescent home. It was only under the cover of darkness that they could go in person to lay a bouquet of flowers.
The so-called "municipal cemetery" should really have been called "the cemetery for wealthy citizens." If the poor wished to be buried in Nolan City, their final resting place was in the public burial grounds on nearby Styx Mountain.
Jenkins watched with a heavy heart as Papa Oliver placed the white flowers from the large bundle he carried before each gravestone, one by one. When he was finished, he nodded to Jenkins, signaling that it was time to leave.
In the night air of the cemetery, the smell of damp decay was especially thick. They greeted the watchman, exchanging a few pleasantries before following the stone-paved path toward the carriage waiting outside.
The carriage was the property of the Church, and the driver was a trustworthy believer. Of course, for coming out to such a remote place in the middle of the night, both Papa Oliver and Jenkins gave him a small tip.
"If I die one day, I'll probably be buried here, right?"
Jenkins spoke the ominous words, kicking a stone at his feet into the grass like a child.
It was late August, and the temperature dropped quickly at night. That, combined with the cemetery's unique gloom, made Jenkins shudder, even with the sweater he wore under his black formal suit.
"I'll be buried here when I die. You won't."
Papa Oliver didn't seem to mind how morbid the topic was.
"Why not?"
"You offered your divinity to the Goddess. The Holy See is still deliberating your reward, but one thing is certain. After your death, you will be posthumously canonized as a Saint and interred with full honors in the Hallowed Library—a place where only cardinals, popes, or believers of truly exceptional contribution are worthy of being buried."
"Buried in a library? Just as I thought. Followers of the Goddess of Knowledge can't escape books, even in death."
Jenkins muttered the sacrilegious thought to himself, then turned to look back at the shadowed cemetery.
"A reward? I was hoping the Goddess would grant me a few Bestowals or some powerful divine arts on the spot."
"Do not question the Sage's intentions!"
Papa Oliver warned.
Jenkins, realizing he'd misspoken, scratched his head and gave an embarrassed laugh, dropping the subject.
Although the Holy See was still deliberating his reward, the Nolan diocese had already prepared something for Jenkins.
He had just advanced a level, which meant he could acquire a new ability. To that end, the Church had specially offered him a selection from the abilities treasured by the local diocese.
The luxury of receiving free materials was only for newly minted Enchanters. This time, his choice would depend not only on how well the ability synergized with his own, but more importantly, on the thickness of his wallet.
Chapter 49: Returning from the Funeral
Comments