Cinnamon Bun - Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-Four

Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-Four

“Broccoli,” Caprica said as she half-turned towards me. “Did you want to be the one to, ah, interact with the professor? With my assistance, of course.”

“Um, sure,” I said. “But why me?”

Caprica shrugged slightly. “I don’t have the authority to pull rank, as it were, and you are generally fairly charismatic.”

“Aww, thank you!” I said. I had always tried to be friendly and fun to talk to, which I supposed translated well being somewhat charismatic. “I think I shouldn’t be alone, though. Why can’t we all go in?”

“Because so many of us entering would intimidate even the most stalwart professor,” Amaryllis said. “I recall several of my teachers being real spitfires but even they would balk at this many armed people stepping into their office at once.”

“Oh, I guess that does make sense,” I said. “Well then, Caprica, you’ve been with me for a while and were there when we found that book.” Which I had to return at some point. “And... maybe Desiree can come along too?”

Desiree blinked, then her face lit up before she schooled her features. “I’d appreciate that, yes,” she said. 

I didn’t want to single her out, but also, Desiree was the newest member of the crew, and hadn’t quite found a space in it as easily and quickly as Calamity had. I could make a bit of effort to include her in things until she felt comfortable. It was only nice.

“Okay,” I said with a serious nod. “Uhm... what will everyone else do?”

“Loiter, mostly,” Amaryllis said. 

“I wouldn’t mind having a minute off my feet,” Calamity said. “Hey, how far is that one cafeteria we saw? Think they’d allow non-students to grab a bite to eat?”

I grinned. “Just give us a few minutes first? We don’t actually know if Mister Celiga is here. For all we know these aren’t his office hours and we’ll have to return tomorrow.”

“I hope not,” Awen muttered. “It was hard to get here.”

“Ah, but we’ve managed it once,” Calamity siad. “Which means doing it a second time will only be easier.”

I nodded, then turned to the doorway, Caprica and Desiree joining me. I knocked, because that was only polite, then tried the handle and stepped in. The Historical Research and Studies office was... not what I had imagined before opening the door.

I guess I was influenced by movies and TV, but I expected a well-ordered office space, with a few desks and maybe a small reception area, and I guess I was at least partially right.

There were four desks squeezed into a medium-sized room, a room that would have been plenty large enough for that many offices if it wasn’t for all the stuff squeezed into it.

The walls were lined with floor to ceiling shelves, some filled with books, others stuffed to the brim with artefacts. There were clay pots and scrolls and some statues, all tucked into the shelves, not as display pieces, but because they happened to fit there.

The only thing that hinted at any amount of order were the tags hanging off of everything, with tiny scribbled writing that I couldn’t parse from across the room.

The desks were often more of the same. Two of the four were more or less orderly and neat, but the other two had stacks of loose sheets and papers and books left open. A few typewriters sat on some of the desks, and there were little mobile trays with wheels at the bottom filled with more paperwork.

A dim light hung from the ceiling, spellwork enclosed in a glass enclosure, and a large window to one side had its curtains pushed aside to let in some more natural light.

“Uh, hello?” I called out.

Someone straightened up at one of the desks. It was a young grenoil woman, in a somewhat frumpy set of school robes with spectacles pressed onto her face. “Yes, hi?” she said before blinking and jumping to her feet. “Oh! Guests. Um, hello. I’m sorry, but this is the Historical Research and Studies office. Administration is one floor down.”

“No, this is the one we’re looking for,” Caprica said. “We’re looking for a certain Mister Celiga. We suspected that we might find him here.”

The young researcher blinked again, then her brows perked up. “Professor Celiga? Ah, yes, he does use this office at times.” She glanced at one of the desks, one of the neat ones with only a typewriter sitting in its middle. “But he’s not here right now. Can I ask why you were looking for him? You... don’t look like students.”

“I guess we’re not dressed like students, are we?” I asked.

“Well, that, and I don’t recall, ah, too many sylph or... I will be honest, I’m not certain what either of your species are. A bun? Maybe? And the tails... no, I have no idea.”

“Oh, we’re not students,” I said. I reached up and touched the pin stuck to the front of my armour. “I’m Captain Broccoli Bunch, of the Beaver Cleaver. I’m from the Exploration Guild.”

“Oh!” the grenoil said. “Did Professor Caliga ask for explorers to help... well, explore something? Usually we put our own teams together?”

“No, nothing like that,” I said. “We’re actually researching something ourselves, and discovered that Mister, uh, Professor Caliga had done a lot more research on the topic than us. Since we were kind of around, we decided to pop over and ask him directly!” 

Her brows rose up even more, but she did nod soon after. “That’s reasonable enough, I suppose. Did you send him a letter?”

“We are a little too pressed for time for letters,” Caprica said.

“I see?”

“So!” I said. “Where can we find the professor?”

“He’s been fired.”

I blinked.

The grenoil researcher blinked back.

“Huh?” I asked.

“It was all over the news. Well, the academic news, at least. But Professor Caliga was fired last week. He might not even be professor for much longer.”

“Well, that’s... rather unfortunate,” Caprica said.

“It seems as though our timing was less than auspicious,” Desiree said. “To arrive just as the good professor loses his job is very unfortunate.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Uh... but he still has a desk here?” I gestured to the desk in the corner.

“Hmm? Oh, the typewriter belongs to the school,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t really help you.”

I puffed my chiefs out as I let out a breath. This was... a set back. A pretty big one, actually. I was hoping that Professor-for-not Caliga might have some answers. But then, maybe he wasn’t the only lead? “Why was he fired anyway?” I asked.

“Ah, he made and published some historical facts that weren’t very, um, popular. In fact, calling them ‘facts’ right now isn’t a very good idea.”

“Oh my,” Caprica said. “The bane of all historians; politics.”

“Something like that, yes,” the grenoil said. “What were you looking for the professor for anyway? I’m at least passingly familiar with most of the subjects he wrote about. I’m not one of his associates, but I have worked here for a few years, and saw some of his research.”

I nodded, one source might be as good as another. “The Black Avatars,” I said. 

She stared a little, then cracked a smile. “Is this a joke?”

“A joke?” I asked.

“The professor’s writing on the Black Avatars was what started his career going downhill. Though it’s obviously not what led him to losing his job. The Black Avatars aren’t really historical fact.”

“Oh... well, that’s kind of too bad, because we need to know more about them,” I said.

“Well, the professor always did have a keen interest in them.” She walked over to a desk and started to rummage around some papers. Soon she had a pen and inkwell out, as well as a scrap of paper. She wrote down a few lines on it, then handed it over.

“What’s this?” I asked before reading.

Sixth Quarter, 9th level. Apt. 48.

“The Professor’s home address,” she said. “In the old quarter. He was never home before, but now that he’s, ah, no longer at the school, that might be the best place to look for him.”

“Would that even be worth it?” Caprica asked.

“Ordinarily I’d say no. A lot of his research was confiscated when he was fired, but none of his work on the Black Avatars, since they’re not politically important.”

“Thank you,” I said. “This might be helpful! Maybe it’ll even get him into a better mood if we show up looking for the thing he spent so long researching too!”

“I’m sure. Maybe... don’t bring any wine as a housewarming present, however?”

“Uh... okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure what that comment was about, but I had an inkling it wasn’t a good thing.

***