Jenkins stood in the cold wind, pointing to the house next to his, ready to inquire about the situation. The house was already lit, presumably by the gas lamps Silver Flute Miss was now using inside.
"Excuse me, has a new resident moved onto this street? If I'm not mistaken, that house..."
Mr. Goodman's face lit up with understanding.
"Ah, are you referring to Mrs. Mistala Folant? She moved in last week and even brought me a cake when she paid a visit. You must have been out quite a bit last week; she probably hasn't had a chance to call on you yet."
"Yes, I'm usually not home during the day. I see."
With that, he once again politely declined Mr. Goodman's invitation and returned to his own home.
He paused in the foyer, not stepping further in, his eyes narrowed as he watched his new neighbor's house. It was undoubtedly Silver Flute Miss. Not long ago, the two of them had been involved in a double-crossing deal over a shipment of smuggled firearms.
Jenkins didn't know if her moving here was a coincidence or if there was another reason behind it. But he had to find out immediately, or he wouldn't be able to rest easy.
He straightened his clothes, put a smile on his face, and this time, rang the bell of the house to his left.
The house had originally belonged to a merchant who never returned after the "Evil God's Child Incident." The garden had been neglected for so long that it was covered in accumulated snow and a motley collection of trash. It was clear the new owner was making an effort to tidy up, but she obviously hadn't finished yet.
The mailbox by the gate was back in use, and the house itself sported a new front door. The gate, once secured by a wrist-thick iron chain, now had a small brass lock on the inside—one Jenkins felt he could kick open with a single good strike.
"I'm sorry, who is it?"
A full three minutes after the bell chimed, a silver-haired woman finally opened the door. It was an exceptionally rare hair color. While some people are born with hair that appears almost white, it is in fact a variation of blonde—more accurately, a pale gold. Her hair looked white, but in the sunlight, it shimmered with a faint, light-golden luster.
"I'm your neighbor, Jenkins Williams. Good evening, Mrs. Folant!"
Jenkins answered, holding up the bottle of red wine in a gesture of greeting.
"Yes, Williams from next door."
Silver Flute Miss, or rather, Mrs. Mistala Folant, was a middle-aged woman, perhaps even verging on elderly. Though she always used the voice of a young woman at the gatherings, her true age was likely greater than even Mr. Goodman's.
She emerged from the house at a leisurely pace, warmly inviting Jenkins in for a moment and apologizing for not having paid him a visit sooner. While the interior wasn't as cluttered as the yard, it was clear the woman, having just moved in, had yet to fully organize the place.
An object radiating an intense purple spiritual aura was sitting nonchalantly on a box in the corner. Jenkins had rarely seen a supernatural item that possessed an aura of such a vibrant hue.
Mrs. Folant clearly didn't recognize Jenkins as the mysterious Candle Mr; she would never have suspected it. She was, however, familiar with the famous author Jenkins Williams and even owned two of his books.
The visit was a success. Jenkins maintained the facade of a friendly neighbor making a social call the entire time. In truth, however, he was using his [Lie Godhood] to subtly probe the woman's motives for moving here.
From their conversation, he gathered that Mrs. Folant was a pitiful widow, much like his former neighbor, Mrs. Margaret. She lived off a substantial inheritance and had moved here merely for a change of scenery.
It was all the truth, but likely not the complete truth. As Jenkins concluded his visit and departed, he resolved to hire a reliable investigator to dig deeper. Having such a person so close by severely undermined his sense of security.
"Oh, Mr. Williams, I might be teaching dance lessons to some lovely young ladies in my house in the future. There might be some noise then, would you mind?"
Jenkins replied, the picture of a perfect neighbor.
The night had been full of surprises, but at least Jenkins's subsequent move to report the foreign duke to the Legacy Sage Church proceeded without incident. Just as he had done six months prior when reporting the pirate king Femishue's appearance to the Church of Ocean and Exploration, he folded the letter into a paper airplane and sent it flying to the church's doorstep.
Naturally, the letter made no mention of a certain furtive, cat-owning man. But Jenkins swore that, aside from that one omission, every word of it was true.
The next surprise came the following day. After arriving at the antique shop, Jenkins began to subtly fish for information about the aftermath of his report. Papa Oliver, ever the well-informed man, knew about the letter, but it had apparently accomplished nothing.
"The contents of that letter were deemed a forgery. The Church didn't believe it."
Papa Oliver didn't seem to notice the flicker of tension that crossed Jenkins's face. He was busy examining a rough piece of pottery discovered in the cemetery where the major battle had taken place the day before. The Church was hoping to find a new breakthrough among the grave goods.
"You know, ever since that incident where the Scribe squad disguised themselves as an inquisition force, strange rumors have been circulating among the public. It's even forced the visiting delegation from the Cheslan Kingdom to extend their stay in Nolan to monitor the situation."
he explained vaguely.
"I know, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh, Jenkins, it implies a great deal. Most importantly, our convoy collided with the delegation's that day. As a result, some people now believe the Legacy Sage Church is at odds with the Cheslan Kingdom's delegation. For the past few days, we've been flooded with anonymous letters accusing someone in their party of illegal activities. The reports concerning that particular duke are already approaching a hundred."
Papa Oliver shook his head as he spoke, as if lamenting how troublesome the whole affair had become.
"But surely the Church won't ignore all of them, right?"
"Of course not. No matter how short-staffed we are, we'll still conduct a basic investigation. For instance, there were the three letters that arrived last night..."
"Three?" Read full story at novelFɪre.net
Jenkins's heart skipped a beat. He suddenly understood why his own letter had been dismissed.
"One accused the duke of being connected to the wielder of the Skull Sword, another linked him to the pirate king Femishue, and a third claimed he was associated with the Believers of Lies. Oh, by the Sage," Papa Oliver sighed, "if those unregistered Enchanters have so much free time, why don't they help the Church find clues about the undead?"