Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 66: Confrontation
Jenkins turned his head to find all the writers, men and women alike, looking his way. The man who had spoken, a fellow with a small mustache, wore an insincere smile. Jenkins recalled from the earlier introductions that he was the author of a bestselling novel called "Court Romance."
"Yes? Hello."
He answered politely.
"It's a true honor to meet you. Your book is a genuine bestseller in Nolan City right now. Anyone who hasn't read your stories would be considered completely out of touch."
The man's tone was rather affected, but Jenkins was oblivious to the truth of his words. He had been completely engrossed in his study of ritual magic lately.
"Is that so? I'm quite honored. I never imagined fairy tales could become so popular."
Jenkins said with a smile.
"I believe your fairy tales are more than just captivating for children; they hold profound educational value. Even adults can gain something from a single reading. And on top of that, the stories are just so entertaining—truly entertaining!"
The woman in spectacles praised him generously, and the gentleman beside her, who wore a blue bow tie, nodded in agreement:
"This is a truly groundbreaking innovation in the world of fairy tales. Most tales on the market are either childishly simple or try too hard to preach some grand moral. Mr. Williams, your stories have pioneered an entirely new model. This is what a true fairy tale is!"
The flood of praise left Jenkins feeling a little self-conscious, but he noticed a passive-aggressive edge to the comments from a few of the guests. At first, he chalked it up to the typical professional jealousy common among writers. Only later did it dawn on him that the patrons who had brought these particular authors might not be on good terms with Miss Mikhail or Miss Hersha.
Thanks to some advance preparation, Jenkins was able to contribute a few comments when the discussion touched on matters of grammar. But the moment the conversation shifted to recent bestsellers or famous authors, he was completely out of his depth and couldn't add a single word.
"I'm really not cut out for this sort of thing."
He thought to himself, all the while nodding at the man who was holding forth, feigning agreement with his eloquent points.
"Mr. Williams, I hear you're currently working as an apprentice in an antique shop?"
Amid the chatter, the same man from before—the one sitting next to Jenkins—suddenly posed the question.
The room suddenly fell silent as all eyes turned to the two of them.
Jenkins raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. He nodded. "I am."
A knowing smile immediately spread across the man's face. Jenkins couldn't recall doing anything to offend him, but he wasn't the type to take an attack lying down.
"Bishop Parrold was the one who arranged the position for me."
The atmosphere grew a little awkward, but Jenkins cut in before the man could respond.
"Bishop Parrold? The one from the Church of Knowledge and Books?"
The man's smile froze on his face.
"The very one."
Jenkins nodded, inwardly scoffing at the man. He had clearly done some digging into Jenkins's work but hadn't bothered to find out the full story.
"My family have always been followers of the Sage. I've known Bishop Parrold since I was a boy, from attending services with my parents. See this brooch I'm wearing? It was a gift from the Bishop to mark my new position."
After speaking, he raised his right hand and traced the square holy emblem of the Legacy Sage over his chest.
"Praise the Sage, praise the Goddess. May Your light illuminate the path of humankind."
A third of the writers seated in the circle joined Jenkins in the prayer.
Given the unique nature of their faith and its doctrines, followers of the Legacy Sage often pursued careers as scholars or writers, so it was hardly surprising to see so many join in the prayer.
But even those who weren't followers of the Sage had heard of Nolan's prominent figures—the nobility, the gentlemen of the city council, the bishops of the major churches.
Therefore, no matter how much they might look down on the profession of a mere "shop apprentice," no one would dare speak ill of a position arranged by the bishop of a major diocese. This was especially true given that Jenkins's own words implied he had a rather close relationship with the church.
"By the way, aside from your writing, what is it you do for a living?"
Jenkins turned to the man, whose face had soured completely, and posed his own question, inwardly vowing to make him squirm, no matter what the answer was.
"Me? Oh, I... well, I... heh. I'm a full-time writer..."
The man was taken aback. He stammered out his admission, his face flushing red with what looked like profound shame.
"That doesn't seem like anything to be ashamed of."
Jenkins wondered. Why was the man acting so strangely?
Since that was his answer, the topic was dropped, and the group resumed their lighthearted conversation.
Jenkins took the opportunity to activate his Eye of Reality, scanning each person in turn. He discovered that, aside from Hathaway Hersha, none of the other young people present were Enchanters.
He did, however, notice that two of the bodyguards stationed outside the room had the tell-tale glow of an Enchanter.
Malignant spirits and ghosts also possessed spirit. However, due to the unique nature of spiritual bodies, they wouldn't appear in his special field of vision unless he was extremely close.
He didn't really expect to encounter any ghosts here, but it paid to be cautious.
Jenkins excused himself, asked a servant for the location of the restroom, and headed down the corridor deeper into the apartment. On the carriage ride over, Jenkins had heard that this apartment belonged to one of the salon's members. Since it was currently vacant, it had been offered up as a venue for their gathering.
Jenkins, who was still hunting for an affordable apartment himself, could only sigh with envy.
As he walked, he examined the paintings hanging on either side of the corridor.
Based on what he had learned from Papa Oliver, he suspected one or two of them were genuine antiques. While their value wasn't astronomical, the fact that they were hung so casually in a hallway without any protection spoke volumes about the owner's wealth.
"You seem quite interested, Mr. Williams?"
A familiar female voice sounded beside him. Jenkins turned to find the red-haired Miss Hersha standing there, also gazing up at the same garishly colored oil painting of a knight slaying a dragon. It was likely a modern piece; subjects drawn from heroic legends were quite common.
"I am."
Jenkins agreed cautiously. "I've been studying under Papa Oliver for a while now. I can generally tell the authenticity of a painting like this at a glance—it's not worth much, and the cost to fake it would be too high."
"These gatherings must be quite boring, aren't they? We invited you, only for the two of us to leave you on your own," she asked shyly.
"Not at all. It's been a wonderful opportunity to meet some of my peers."
.
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Chapter 66: Confrontation
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