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A royal coronation?!
Stepping out of his mother’s office, Morgan looked down at the files in his hands. His mother wasn’t serious, surely - a royal coronation? Not even a royal wedding - his mother wanted him out there, in the cold, honest-to-god forgotten, distant ass land, just for a royal coronation?! All for a dream she’d been using since he was four, dangling it in front of his face like a carrot on a stick? No way in hell. He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of this daze and actually make it back to his desk, where Ohio and Barnaby were surely waiting for him.
he was supposed to miss his sister’s ceremony -he’d be at the actual wedding, Diego would put her foot down about that, no doubt-, the one event he’d been wanting to attend that his mother would otherwise demand he be present in, for fodder material that his mother couldn’t even bother to send out a “real reporter” for. He knew that realistically, with the semi-political standing of the magazine, they’d have to send some form of representation, but still… this felt pointed from her. Like she was trying to prove a point.
Fuck, had she found out he’d been working on his own publication?
Back at his desk, Morgan sunk down on the chair, face sullen and gnawing on his lower lip. He had to find a way to get out of this, he had to find a way to back off, find a way to pawn this off to someone else - he lightly banged his head on his desk.
“M-Morgan? What’s, what’s wrong?” he looked up at Barnaby, who was looking at him with concern and whined in lieu of an answer, too peeved to even really talk about it. He felt someone tug at the file in his hands, and turned his head to face Ohio this time, letting him tug the file free.
“Th-This is what sh-she wants you to do? A royal o-obligation?” Barnaby’s face was scrunched up, clearly displeased as he read over Ohio’s shoulder. Morgan hummed, face still down on his table, looking up at them. Ohio’s brows furrowed, seemingly focused on the file that Morgan hadn’t even bothered to look through.
“Maybe not really… Morgan, come look at this.” Ohio said, nudging Morgan to the side to lay the file on the table. “It looks pretty normal, but something feels… off. The King’s passed two years ago, but they’re only having a coronation for the prince this year. Their interregnum should’ve been around a year after the Prince’s coming of age ceremony, but the prince turned eighteen way before the king even passed.” Morgan lifted his head up, now following along with what Ohio was saying. “There’s something that doesn’t add up, but I can’t really tell what.” Now intrigued by the topic, Morgan took over the file, looking over everything presented. He could feel Barnaby humming from the table next to him, clearly also intrigued now. With a deep sigh, he shut his eyes, rubbing at them as a sort of reset of his mindset, and looked back at the file in front of him.
Okay. Morgan took a deep breath. There has to be a reason she put me on this. Morgan’s mother, as much as she might like to pretend she didn’t know the extent of Morgan’s abilities, very much was aware of what Morgan could do. His mom knew that he was a good writer, and above that, she knew he was a good journalist. There was a reason she wouldn’t just let him quit, after all, and had kept him around - wherever he ended up poking his nose into ended up having a story in it, and as much as he hated to admit it, this he’d inherited from her. She’d been the reason he wanted to be a journalist in the first place, after all.
If there was a story here to be covered, he’d do it.
And then,
Morgan thought as he started to dig more earnestly into the files, opening his own laptop to search the internet for some answers, exchanging notes with Ohio and Barnaby, a plan forming in his head;
and then I’ll use that story to get the hell out of this hell hole. And make waves leaving.