The body was still lying splayed in the alley. Jenkins stared at it, conflicted.
Jenkins stood up and asked Papa Oliver.
Papa Oliver was crouching in the snow nearby, meticulously and carefully sealing the wooden box once more to prevent anyone else from seeing it.
"This is no trouble. Oh, it's past closing time. You can head home. I'll take care of things here."
Papa Oliver had his back to Jenkins, so his expression was impossible to see.
"You're not thinking of destroying the evidence, are you?"
Jenkins asked, a little worried, and was about to suggest using his flames.
"What are you thinking, you brat? Of course I'm going to notify the church to handle it. This man committed theft, so he has to bear the consequences of his actions. Since he died here because of it, the responsibility is all his... Of course, if he has a family and young children, we can offer some compensation out of humanitarian concern and charity. Don't worry, I've dealt with this sort of thing many times."
"Should I feel sad for him, or should I just think he got what he deserved?"
"I think both feelings are valid. You despise theft, but you also possess a general sense of compassion."
Alexia summarized as she strolled with him through the snowy woods.
They were now in the royal hunting grounds outside of Ruen. Jenkins could never quite figure out the patterns of the sun, moons, and stars in this world. Though night had already fallen in Nolan to the south, here in the northern hunting grounds of Ruen, the brilliant sunset was still visible.
The two continued forward, discussing the day's events. A snow rabbit stood motionless in their path, looking foolishly still, almost as if it were anticipating Jenkins's approach. It wasn't until a threatening meow from Chocolate that the rabbit snapped out of its trance and fled into the distance.
"I always thought I lacked compassion."
But he felt a pang of sympathy for the rabbit scared off by the kitten; it had nearly crashed into a tree stump in its panicked flight.
"No, Jenkins. You're the kindest Benefactor I know. Take now, for instance. You're with me to kidnap Dolores's idiotic brother, yet you still advised her to just chop off his head rather than torturing him after getting the information."
Alexia had also seen the snow rabbit and was intrigued by its earlier reaction.
"That probably has nothing to do with compassion. I just didn't want you ladies to get your hands dirty."
As he spoke, the path ahead disappeared. The snowy woods ended at the edge of a cliff. Gazing into the distance, sparse coniferous trees and low shrubs dotted the plain, with the dazzling sunset blazing even farther beyond.
Below the cliff, the party of Dolores Stuart's brother, Stipe Stuart, was making camp. The two of them were here to capture him.
Dolores had finally had enough of the threats on her life. Until now, she had been entirely on the defensive, passively reacting to every attack. This was because the young woman had little desire to get involved in the struggle for the throne and had been deliberately showing weakness.
In truth, however, she had long since identified the mastermind behind it all. This Stipe Stuart, the fifth prince, was nothing more than a fool being used as a pawn.
Miss Stuart's decision to strike back was spurred not only by the final eruption of her pent-up resentment but also, in large part, by the influence of Jenkins's new book. More importantly, no one yet knew she had two high-level Benefactors by her side. And in a sparsely populated hunting ground , it would hardly be surprising if one or two people went missing.
Such things happened every year. Jenkins, however, had no way of knowing if those past disappearances were of the same nature as this one.
"This is my first time being a kidnapper."
Jenkins remarked, but he didn't hear his female companion reply, "Me too." He immediately raised his eyebrows in surprise, but when he saw Alexia make a hushing gesture, he didn't press the matter.
Compared to Dolores Stuart's somewhat "shabby" party of less than ten, Stipe Stuart's was far more extravagant. From the cliff's edge, they could see the size of the company setting up camp. There were more than twenty servants bustling about, and the tall man riding aimlessly around on horseback was clearly their target. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs NoveI-Fire.ɴet
"I don't get it," Jenkins asked. "If you bring this many people on a hunt, how do you even count who gets credit for the kills? They could just have their servants do all the work."
He was also scanning the group below for any troublesome Benefactors.
"It's quite simple. Salsi II sends numerous recorders to each participating hunting party. See? Those two over there who aren't working are the recorders."
She pointed into the distance. Jenkins squinted for a moment before nodding.
For a hunt with no official competition, the recorders' job was practically optional. But to save face, someone always tried to bribe them every year. It was one of the hunt's traditions, something a commoner like Jenkins wouldn't understand.
Stipe Stuart's party had no Benefactors. This was normal; very few supernaturals were willing to work for an out-of-favor prince. This simplified things for Jenkins and Alexia, as whatever they did would go unnoticed.
The plan was straightforward: Jenkins would blast the cliff face, and the falling rocks would sow panic among the people below. In the ensuing chaos, Alexia would snatch their target.
The plan went smoothly—smoother than they could have imagined. When the cliff face disintegrated with a tremendous roar, Stipe Stuart's white horse bolted in terror, carrying its master uncontrollably into the distance. The horse's owner was clearly not a skilled rider; the only thing he managed to do before disappearing from sight was cling on for dear life.
The servants bustling nearby tried to give chase, but all the horses in the camp were spooked and unmanageable. They could only watch helplessly as their master vanished into the snowy plains. It was the last time anyone would ever see him.
By the time they managed to calm the horses and follow the tracks in the snow, Stipe Stuart was long gone. Just then, it began to snow again, gradually covering the hoofprints. And so, the prince who vanished in the royal hunting grounds became the stuff of a new, terrifying legend.