He followed the wall until his hand met the polished wood of a railing knob. Squinting in the darkness, he just barely made out the outline of a narrow staircase, leading to the gallery on the room's upper level - a testimony to the poor lighting of the area, since it now appeared that the ceiling was even farther away than he'd initially assumed.

He climbed slowly, wincing at every creak of the ancient wood, until he reached the top. When he turned around to regard the room below, he offered a silent thank you to whatever gods happened to be listening that they hadn't cursed him with a fear of heights. The landing was even narrower than the steps leading to it, with a railing added more as an afterthought than an actual safety precaution, considering its flimsy state and height that barely reached past his knees. There were hardly any books here to begin with, just a few hanging shelves, bearing the odd forgotten manuscript or thick tome absolutely drowned in dust.

But right in front of Meyo stood the one thing he'd been hoping for - yet another door. Approaching carefully, he once again pressed his ear against the wood and was rewarded with better acoustics - although still far removed from a comprehensible speech. Determined, he kneeled before it and gently tried the handle. It was locked, of course, but the keyhole allowed him a glimpse into a better illuminated room, with no people crowding the space directly before it.

Breathing in unsteadily, Meyo reached with trembling hands for the discarded wire temple of his new pince-nez - former regular glasses - and bent the tip the way Tahni had once instructed him. He'd appealed to her in a moment of pure curiosity, without any real intention of putting the acquired knowledge into practice, especially with any nefarious purpose in mind. And as far as he was concerned, he was still keeping to his word.

The mechanism was almost insultingly easy to unlock, which only made Meyo more worried that something else was bound to go wrong. Perhaps there were people on the other side of that door, just out of his limited line of sight, monks or even villagers that would undoubtedly have some uncomfortable questions for a stranger suddenly appearing in their midst.

But Meyo didn't have time to hesitate. A sudden burst of general laughter gave him the impetus he needed and he pushed down the handle, swinging the door open just enough for him to slip through.

As soon as he found himself on the other side, he spotted a line of men leaning against the railing of the gallery on the opposite wall, and he promptly dropped to the floor. Fortunately, they had appeared utterly engrossed in the happenings below, and none gave any shout of alarm. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Meyo twisted his head, taking in his own deserted gallery. He had no idea how many prayers of thanks he should utter for the ridiculous luck he'd had so far, but he knew that he didn't want to tempt fate any longer. He would sit like this, quiet and unobtrusive, observing as much as he could for as long as he could.

Having made up his mind, he slithered forward to the balustrade and peeked at the room below from the gaps between the spindles.

There were various observations that sprung to mind in the next instant, chief among them being the inadequacy of describing this event as a mere "gathering". Considering the sheer size of the crowd, it might have been more accurate to call it a symposium. Next, there was the nature of the subject being discussed, which, given the mass of chemistry utensils and discarded gears and mechanisms lying on study tables interspersed among the mass of people, could only be scientific in nature. A small makeshift stage had been set up in the center of the room and consisted of yet another study table bearing various materials, the lectern, and the speaker himself, who was currently a reed-thin young man with oversized robes whose sleeves flapped like bird's wings whenever their wearer gestured animatedly towards the table behind him.

Smiling, Meyo tried to make himself as comfortable as possible while listening to the exciting progress the youth had registered in improving the classic spring lock mechanisms for better security. The inventor didn't shy away from suggesting what a man might be able to hide while using such a technology, which naturally prompted another wave of laughter.

For his part, Meyo wondered at the relaxed atmosphere of the place - a natural continuation of the unconventional way of life prevalent in the entire monastic complex. It was all so radically different from the meetings and associations he had frequented back home - filled to the brim with stale academics of arrogant demeanor - that he immediately wished to become part of it. He followed the youth's discourse with subdued joy, then watched in awe as a group of three other researchers took to the stage to present their findings in the field of mechanical time-keeping. They removed the paneling off a mantlepiece clock - the bulky model only available overseas at a ridiculously high price -, passed a bundle of blueprints to the eager audience, and set about their presentation.

As he lay on the floor, gratified beyond words, it finally occurred to Meyo that he might very well have come across the Research Department the acolyte had complained about, with its habitual spectacle-destroying members. Thinking that so far he fitted the requirements to a tee, Meyo dared to dream of the day he too might present his findings in such a setting, excited at the prospect of hearing different opinions, critical feedback and improvement suggestions. While reading the wisdom of centuries past, the knowledge inflow could only be one-sided, but a dynamic exchange of ideas with one's peers would naturally result in even more progress, organically shaped by the requirements of the current age.

Absorbed as he was in the fascinating subjects of the successive presentations taking place on the floor below, he couldn't fail but pick up on the crowd's anticipation as the final speaker prepared to take to the stage. Even from his distant vantage point, he recognized the figure of Essar, former Crown Prince of Kassinem. He'd donned an outlandish red wig and shaved his famous beard, but there could be no doubt as to his identity.

Meyo has seen him before on a number of occasions, since the prince had been very involved in said engineering symposiums and scientific conventions, bringing forth outlandish suggestions no one believed could actually work. Meyo distinctly remembered the chaos that had erupted when a particularly disbelieving audience member had picked up Essar's Magnife-Self-Defense-Vegetable-Peeler, which started launching small, but painful balls of compressed potato peelings at the man's head. The victim had needed extensive medical assistance in the aftermath, but there had also been a few other attendants who's been unfortunate enough to catch stray projectiles. As was his habit, Meyo had stood to the back of the room, well out of the vegetable peeler's range, but still close enough to witness the utter havoc that ensued. Incidentally, that failed symposium had also been the last verified public appearance of the Crown Prince, taking place only a few days before King Jurhem's untimely death.

As soon as the dark rumor of Essar's disappearance reached Meyo's ears, he wasted no time in exchanging all the favors he was owed by his older brother Steppo to get his hands on the devices found among the prince's possessions. How Steppo had managed to acquire said objects was of no particular interest to him. What mattered was that he'd finally obtained the items in question, which included the dreadful vegetable peeler, a magnetic cutlery set that might randomly fly out of someone's hands while they were being used, a classic assassin's teapot, and of course, the exchange conduit.

Upon seeing the latter, Meyo hadn't known what to make of it, but then he'd returned to the notes he'd taken at various conventions throughout the previous months, and at last came upon the intriguing concept of particle transposition that Essar had enthusiastically presented in front of a crowd of staunch disbelievers. Meyo had also felt inclined to count himself as a skeptic, especially because the prince hadn't produced any prototypes, but then he'd actually gotten absorbed by the research until he reached a surprising conclusion: it could theoretically be done. Moreover, he'd obviously taken the thought experiment one step further in the practical realm by becoming a test subject himself.

What Meyo hadn't expected was that his efforts to uncover what had befallen the missing prince, at first driven solely by professional curiosity, had also revealed the harsh realities of a kingdom on the brink of a succession crisis. While Essar had been an absent leader, more prone to invest his time and energy in the choice fields that actually interested him, his mere quality as the king's heir had provided a modicum of comfort and stability. The ugly truth behind the façade had been brutally revealed when Essar had chosen to abandon his duty to his country, leaving his clueless young brother to assume a position fraught with danger for himself, as well as for the people of Kassinem.

In the aftermath of Essar's disappearance and Eker's ascension to the throne, people had given it their best to go carry on as they had before, pretending that Terevansia didn't eye Kassinem's territory with unabashed greed, and that Iskaria would be a sufficient deterrent should invading forces actually cross the sea, even while the ministers had denied to make an Iskarian the next queen. Essar's mother had been Terevansian, but her ties to her homeland had long ceased their practical usefulness, and Essar himself had proved himself as disinterested in diplomacy as in conducting any other of his stately duties.

Left to his own devices, Meyo wouldn't have cared much either, but he soon found that engineering symposiums were canceled to make room for weapon masters' presentations and his father's visits to their home library increased exponentially. The old man hadn't been surprised to find his youngest son there at all hours of the day and night, and they invariably ended up conversing on all manners of subjects, including the nation's current state of affairs. His father was extremely worried about the situation, and Meyo had tried to provide sound advice whenever he required it. Even though he'd never been informed of his father's concrete plans, he couldn't help but observe that the battle strategist within him had once again awakened, with the stated purpose of serving his country.

In truth, Meyo had no idea what he could do to help. For a time he'd thought that if he'd managed to track down Essar and drag him back to the capital, he might actually do his part in bringing stability back to the equation, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how his inexperience might lead to an even bigger disaster. Meyo hadn't been built for the political environment, he didn't belong anywhere near the place where life-altering decisions were being made for an entire people. The good of said people was also one of his goals, but he could only go about it by improving their lives with his studies, experiments, and research, because that was where he was most useful. To dabble into politics would have been a grave mistake, but he'd probably already done it indirectly by helping both his father and his brother whenever they'd asked.

So, assuming that he had the means to do it, should he walk up to Essar and drag the prince back to the capital?

After shaking off the initial misplaced feeling of general duty, the answer was a glaringly obvious "no". What he could do was analyze the current context for a while longer and decide upon a favorable outcome once he felt more in control. If the country hadn't fallen into utter disarray with both its King and Crown Prince missing, it might just survive a few more days without Meyo.

Redirecting his focus to the floor below, Meyo tried to relax while Essar launched into an impassioned speech about the prime importance of personal autonomy, and the evils of spoilsports who made it their mission to inconvenience ordinary, hard-working people as much as possible. It therefore followed that the monks of the Esteemed Engal Order shouldn't avoid imported wines just because such a practice was technically illegal - according to an antiquated and supremely unfair law which cruelly stipulated that monastic complexes should cultivate their own grape varieties or be satisfied with other local wines.

Essar's address was naturally met with overwhelming approval from the gathered crowd, as well as colorful curses aimed at the enforcers of said law, among which counted the Frontier Inspection Committee, the Inbound Merchandise for Consumption and Rites Association, and various local patrols who carried out surprise searches of supply wagons on public roads.

The solution to such obstacles, so that Terevansian wines could safely reach the brethren for their daily needs and Engal's satisfaction was to be a particularly exciting chemical reaction that allowed a layer of water to be kept above the wine in the shipping barrels. By way of demonstration, Essar unveiled a carafe filled up to the three-quarters mark with deep red wine, while the top layer remained innocent and transparent. Essar's subsequent addendums regarding the importance of lining the barrel with an appropriate material, as well as the recommended ratios of water to wine to reactive components were drowned out in the joyful screeches of the crowd upon being presented with additional carafes of similar content, so that they could try it out for themselves and decide upon the efficacy of the method. The water was quickly discarded, glasses and cups distributed, and even Essar left the stage to mingle with his fans. While being jostled, patted on the bag and noisily congratulated, the prince's wig suffered a dramatic shift, exposing the natural pale gold on the back of his head.

After the other brethren hastily exited the gallery on the opposite wall to also take part in the ensuing celebration, Meyo considered that it was high time for him to retreat. Out of curiosity, he crept farther across the sagging floor to the landing where a staircase should have been. Instead, Meyo found himself peering directly into one of the wine containers a good distance below, while half a dozen brethren flocked around it to have their glasses filled by one of the speakers from the mechanical clock presentation.

Feeling his pince-nez sliding dangerously off the bridge of his nose, Meyo withdrew hastily. As he made his careful way back towards the door leading to the first room, he tried to make some sense of the day's revelations, but his eyes were drooping of their own accord and he didn't have the strength to resist the encroaching exhaustion.

When he was finally able to stand up on the upper floor of the first room, having locked the door behind him, he once again surveyed the numerous hiding opportunities the ground floor presented and decided on calling it a night. He would find a nice, cozy desk to crawl under and it would be as if he'd never really left home.

Fighting a sudden hollow feeling in his chest, Meyo endeavored to do just that.