Work Text:
Merik held a notebook of notebooks in his hands. Extra pages stuck in, annotations here, citations there, diagrams, tables, and a working bibliography for good measure.
A thesis as prelude for the truth.
He knocked on the door once, and returned Jersk’s greeting upon entry.
The head meshai sat with his back to the fake window. Letters, proposals and ideas littered the desk, the one neat spot the boiled teapot and two mugs in waiting.
“How is work on the research proposal coming along?”
Merik took a sip from his mug, the hot tea a welcome scalding for his nerves.
He put it to his left, his hand covering the top. “Even if we exclude the breakthrough, I think the progress is encouraging. When did you say the deadline was again?”
“Ahem.” Merik witnessed but a mirror in the way Jersk imbibed a long sip. “That is where we hit a bit of a snag. I submitted the first of the registration forms, only for them to require proof of our research.”
“So you want it as soon as possible, I take it?”
He froze mid-sip at the way Jersk’s gaze landed upon his notebook. “If you happen to have a draft handy, that would be ideal.”
Merik picked up the notebook and flicked through it, knowing all too well he would not find Helindian bureaucracy in it. Multiple diagrams later, he let the page open onto a map of Helinda, with annotations directed to passages he found from a few documents, including a copy of the Founding Treaty.
“I have that document somewhere, but there is something I wish to bring to your attention.”
He turned the notebook to face Jersk, who adjusted his glasses as he peered closer. “What in the name of the sages is this?”
“Do you recall our interrogation of the acolytes after they found the Chalice?”
“In what sense?”
The thought of that day made him want to pull teeth. “Neither of them could recall the precise area they found the Chalice in, only that it was north of Helinda but south of most of Feudrain,”
“How is this important?”
“Well, unlike your suggestions, I don’t think it was Feudrain they took the Chalice from—“
Jersk gave him a pointed look, one which made him resonate with Alycja’s standing in a sense. “I have reason to believe our acolytes stole the Chalice from the Court of Morilast.”
A moment of cold silence filled the air.
He flinched when Jersk’s face crumpled akin to paper bound for the rubbish bin. The head meshai crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, glaring. “I don’t know why you concern yourself with this. That Chalice was seemingly buried in Feudrain.”
“But what if it wasn’t?” He flicked to another page, showing a diagram of the skeleton’s estimated route through North Helinda until Arobyre. “The skeleton emerged from the cliffs at the border, the crows are after everyone connected to the Chalice, and do you truly believe that Feudrain would chance stealing Helinda’s relic?”
Jersk put two fingers up. “I will stop you there. The crow associations you try to claim are based in fiction. That court’s not so much reality as a myth.”
He shut the notebook and pressed it to the desk. “That court is mentioned by name in the Founding Treaty.”
“All corrupt courts fall eventually. Even if it was real, and even if the crows are loyal to them, they are not the only crow court in existence.”
Merik huffed. “Then explain to me all the times that Aster and Baakszour could not explain themselves, or how certain magic signatures amongst us are skewed. Go on,—“
“I said I would stop you right there.” He made a gesture, a magical signal to stop. “While there is no denying the rather suspicious circumstances, leave that for the High Minister and the Anointed Judiciaries to get tangled in. We have research to do.”
Merik swallowed a deflated bubble down his throat. “I understand.”
He prayed to Galista that Jersk was correct.