Secret World of Occultists-Chapter 62: Albion Gentleman

The following day, Abel arrived at the Kensington & Blythe Commercial Trust right after finishing his studies under Madam Whitmore.

The elderly lady had praised him, telling him that he had a natural disposition towards learning the ritual arts. This made Abel very happy as the woman almost never gave out compliments.

In a happy mood, he greeted Alfred Prescott, the Chief Teller of the Trust, who was always surveing the main banking hall on the ground floor.

Whistling a merry tune, he soon arrived on the third floor.

"Hmm?" His brows furrowed a little. "Where’s everyone gone?"

Usually, there were always some people that one would find on the third floor. Of course, not all of them were Occultists.

They were similar to people like Alfred prescott and helped with handling work that was carried out on the third floor. They only knew about the existence of the supernatural world and the Occultists. Nothing more.

Abel’s gaze was drawn to the Director’s office all the way on the other end of the floor. However, he didn’t choose to go there.

He had met the man only once, and that was the day he was sworn in as a field agent of the Ministry. Apart from that day, he had never even seen the man.

The Commander, Hugh Prescott, had mentioned to him once that John Kensington was a very busy man, and that he should consider it an honor that he was personally sworn in by him.

In fact, the other members of the Security & Special Operations team were sworn in by Hugh Prescott.

"Ehh, whatever, I guess I’ll just go to the training hall," he muttered under his breath and turned right, entering the partition through the door.

The moment he entered, he was taken aback. All the members of the team had gathered in the hall—except the four guarding the two containment sites, of course.

This was a rare sight because someone or the other was always out on patrol.

But that wasn’t what surprised Abel.

A young lady with brown hair and light blue eyes sat gracefully on the sofa, her legs crossed at the ankles.

She wore a dark green gown over a corded petticoat, its fitted bodice structured yet not overly restrictive.

A short woolen mantle draped over her shoulders, complemented by a silk scarf. Practical leather gloves covered her fair hands, and on her feet, she wore sturdy leather boots, well-suited for travel.

The refined young lady set down her cup of tea on the table and greeted Abel with a bright smile, her eyes alight with warmth.

"Why, Mr. Bishop! I scarcely recognized you in such elegantly tailored attire," she said. "You do cut quite the figure now, every inch the proper Albion gentleman."

"Miss Thompson!" Abel exclaimed.

"Indeed, ’tis I," Emily Thompson said with a light chuckle.

"What brings you here?" Abel asked, curious and surprised.

"As I am departing for Winchester today, I thought it only proper to stop by and bid everyone farewell before I go," said the young lady with gentle composure.

She gracefully picked up the teacup from the table and took a sip from it, all the while curiously gazing at the blue-eyed youth.

"I see that the spirit energy has taken to you quite well," she remarked. "And tell me, how are you finding your work at the Trust thus far?"

"It’s wonderful," Abel smiled. He took off his top hat and sat on the armrest beside Henry on the leather couch. "Everyone’s also been very welcoming to me. I don’t think I could have asked for anything better."

Hearing his response, Hugh Preston, who was sitting on a single-seater sofa across from Emily, couldn’t help but smile warmly.

"Splendid!" Emily said brightly. She then turned to Hugh and inquired, "Commander, when you suppose Abel shall be sent on his initiation mission?"

"Hopefully, within the next two weeks," Hugh said after thinking for a brief moment.

"Goodness me!" Emily exclaimed softly. "That is rather sooner than I had anticipated."

"Well now... the boy’s Hallmark grants him a remarkable knack for learning, picks things up at apace that astonishes us all," Hugh said with a chuckle. "It’s a real pleasure, I dare say, to teach him. Soaks up knowledge like a sponge."

"Oh?" Emily’s interest was visibly piqued. "So his Hallmark grants him accelerated development? How very fascinating."

"Indeed, Emily." Francis Dibgy nodded with a warm smile. "George tells me he’s already grasped the fundamentals of the Ironclad Redcoat."

"Ahem! You guys..." Abel awkwardly cleared his throat. He was not used to others praising him at all, so he didn’t know how to react.

If he had a tail, it would probably be wagging at the moment.

"He managed to mimic my shooting stance and movements after seeing it but once," Henry chimed in with a grin. "Though, mind you, every shot of his went wide. By several meters, no less.

Abel grew even more embarrassed when everyone started to laugh. He quickly tried to change the subject and asked the young lady, "Miss Thompson, how is Winchester? Is it a good place to live? For an Occultist, I mean."

"Oh, where shall I begin, Mr. Bishop?" Emily spoke with a faint smile, setting down the teacup again after she’d taken a sip. "Winchester is the very center of the world. They call it the city that never sleeps, the capital of capitals!"

Abel, who had never visited the capital of the Albion Empire, was fascinated to hear Emily’s words. He knew that Winchester was the largest city in the world.

Just those titles that Winchester was known by made the city stand out from the rest, making it the grandest city in the world.

She then continued, "Winchester is the ideal place for an Occultist. Where else would you find such a city of shadows and secrets?

"Gas-lit cobblestone streets cloaked in fog, elegant townhouses standing side-by-side with the most squalid slums... It is a place where one may practice the occult arts in the dead of the night, and no one would be the wiser."

Abel chuckled lightly, "Miss Thompson, you make it sound like Winchester was built for Occultists."

"In many ways, it was." Emily’s smile turned mysterious. "Consider it, what does an Occultist require? Knowledge, secrecy, and opportunity. Winchester provides all three in abundance."

Hugh Preston nodded with a faint smile. "A fine city for an Occultist indeed."