Jenkins was certain that the moment he turned, his face was a mask of sheer terror. Hathaway, pushing her way through the door, looked surprised at first, but her expression quickly melted into delighted surprise:
"Hi, Jenkins! I can't believe I'm running into you here."
"I... I'm happy to see you, too."
It was the first time Jenkins realized he stuttered when he was nervous.
Hathaway hadn't come looking for him, of course; she was merely picking up a piece of custom jewelry. She knew of this out-of-the-way shop through Papa Oliver, which made Jenkins suspect that when his mentor had told him to go handle his own affairs, he might have had an ulterior motive.
The old artisan took the order slip from Hathaway and disappeared into a quiet room at the back of the shop to retrieve her earrings. Jenkins and Hathaway were left alone, and it struck him as the perfect opportunity. He knew he couldn't wait until the night of the ball to confirm who his partner would be.
Chocolate, perched on Jenkins's shoulder and surveying the room, felt he was being ignored.
"Thank you both for inviting me to the ball. It's going to be so much fun, isn't it?" Content orıginally comes from novèlfire.net
"I think you'll enjoy it."
The red-haired young woman stared intently into his eyes, as if trying to see her own reflection in their depths.
"This is an interesting shop. Papa Oliver was the one who told me about it."
Jenkins changed his mind. Perhaps he couldn't be so direct.
"Papa Oliver sent me here, too. What about you, Jenkins? Are you picking up a restored antique for him?"
Sometimes, gems on antiques would come loose over time or due to accidents, requiring the skilled hand of a professional jeweler to restore them.
"No, not this time. I'm here on personal business."
He reached a hand back toward his briefcase, which the old artisan had closed again just as Hathaway walked in.
"Maybe if I just ask one question now, I can solve two problems at once."
A daring idea took shape in his mind.
Jenkins wasn't a timid man, but he was always extremely cautious when it came to critical decisions. Whenever an idea occurred to him, he would meticulously consider all the potential consequences—a habit he considered to be a good one.
His gaze drifted from Hathaway's face, his eyes subconsciously scanning the narrow, cluttered shop. It was filled with fascinating curiosities, and it wasn't just Chocolate who was intrigued; Jenkins was, too. A craftsman who polished gems would likely grind lenses as well, and Jenkins spotted an object that looked suspiciously like a microscope.
He was mentally rehearsing what he was about to say when his eyes suddenly fell on a corner of the room, where five small, wooden soldier figurines stood inside an empty golden birdcage.
The figurines had clearly been placed there without much thought. Their craftsmanship was poor; you could still see rough, unsanded edges on their elbows and the brims of their hats. The paint was peeling in places. They were obviously cheap trinkets, a far cry from the exquisite, dress-up princess dolls belonging to Miss Stuart that Jenkins had seen.
Hathaway noticed Jenkins staring.
"Someone once told me I'm quite sensitive to Spirit... It's not entirely accurate, but it's not an entirely false conclusion, either."
Jenkins hadn't activated his Eye of Reality; this time, he knew they were something remarkable purely by instinct.
He blinked, and a dazzling red spiritual aura flared from the figurines. As Jenkins raised a hand and pointed at them, the wooden soldiers suddenly sprang to life.
"On alert! The human has spotted us!"
The only figurine with any markings of rank shrieked, its thumb-sized face twisted in an expression of shock.
Under its command, the figurines silently formed ranks and leaped from the birdcage. Their jumping ability was astonishing. Once free, they bounced around like fleas until Chocolate, with even faster reflexes and agility, batted them down one by one. The cat then swaggered over and proudly nudged the pile of tiny soldiers toward Jenkins.
Jenkins reached out and gave the cat, who was now perched on a round table, a gentle pat on his small head. Chocolate narrowed his eyes, enjoying the affection.
"And here I thought you only picked on squirrels and pigeons."
Jenkins joked, only to receive an immediate swat on the back of his hand from the cat's paw.
The little wooden soldiers were surprisingly strong, and the rifles they held were real. Fortunately, Hathaway recognized them and had warned Jenkins to be careful, so it didn't take much effort to subdue them.
"B-09-4-3927, the Salot Legion."
The red-haired young woman was fascinated by the little figures, now tied up with string. She wasn't a "lucky one" like Jenkins, who seemed to stumble upon numbered items almost daily.
"These little fellows are quite rare. Though they're just wooden figures, they're convinced they are a legion from the ancient Asemagus Empire of the 13th Epoch. Their leader calls himself Salot, which is why we call them the Salot Legion. In reality, though, these figurines were created sometime after the 15th Epoch. Their self-awareness is clearly at odds with reality."
She watched with amusement as Chocolate extended a paw and tapped each of the figurines on the head, which reminded her of how Jenkins had just patted the cat.
"So, the special property of B-09-4-3927 is just a set of wooden soldiers with an identity crisis?"
Jenkins didn't stop Chocolate, but he wondered why the battered soldiers weren't cursing up a storm. Instead, they just trembled where they were tied, not daring to move.
"Ow, you're hurting me!"
Finally, one of the soldiers couldn't help but complain, though he seemed more upset about his hat being torn by a sharp claw than any actual pain.
Chocolate continued his game, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. The soldier muttered a few more words under his breath before falling silent again.
"It's not that simple, of course. These figurines are an omen of war. Wherever they appear, a terrible conflict is sure to follow. For ages, some foolish commoners who've heard the legends of B-09-4-3927 have believed them to be the vanguard of the great Righteous God, the Lord of War. In truth, they're more likely the creation of the pseudo-god, the God of Toys and Games."
As she spoke, she reached out and lifted the inverted glass fishbowl that had served as their prison. Then, to the figurines' nervous expressions, she untied the string binding them. Jenkins quickly scooped up his cat, who had been batting at the glass.
"There's no need to imprison them. They can only exist for a short time before they disappear on their own."
"An omen of war? You think there's going to be a war in peaceful Nolan City?"
Jenkins didn't care where the figurines went. He was only concerned about the safety of the city he called home.