I was awakened by the cold.
The beach, after a whole night of thermal radiation, had become cold and hard. The pebbles embedded under the sleeping bag, despite the thinness of the ground mat, dug painfully into my body.
The horizon was not yet tinged with white, only a very light layer of silvery gray that pressed down on the coastline.
In the distance, the intermittent sound of waves.
I sat up, rubbed my shoulders, and, out of habit, scanned the camp.
Anubis was gone.
I imagine he was still talking last night when I fell asleep. I'll have to apologize to him later.
I took the communicator out of my sleeping bag and called Cyclops's channel. The screen flickered twice, then the communication was established.
"Hello, Simon. On my end…" I glanced down at my watch face – 04:23 AM. "…work will begin soon. I'm just letting you know that I'm going to last night's ruin site to install the muon detection plates. I'm planning a ten-day scan. If I remember correctly, we have two hundred of them in stock; I'm going to requisition one hundred."
No response from the other side. A few seconds later, the channel cut off automatically.
I guess that old bear wasn't fully awake yet. Just as well, I'll bother him later.
I shook out my sleeping bag, folded it, tied the straps, slung my half-open backpack over my shoulders, and returned to the container I shared with Baba Yaga.
She was already awake, dressed, sitting near the door lacing up her boots, her hair impeccably styled.
"Morning." She looked up and nodded at me.
At 04:30 AM sharp, I received the schedule sent by our great quartermaster, Marto, on my phone. The blue light lit up in my palm; the list of tasks began to scroll line by line.
Daily Schedule
Date: Year 487 of the Ashen Wheel Era, Season of Shifting Winds, Month of Harvests, Day of the Artichoke – Republic of Libélin
Weather: Sunny then cloudy
Temperature: 14～27 degrees Celsius
Time
Activity
04:30 AM
Entire team rises
05:00 AM
Arrival at excavation site, beginning of the day's work
08:30 AM
Breakfast (30 minutes)
09:00 AM
Resumption of excavations
11:00 AM
Break (15 minutes) – Logistics provides coffee, fruit, and biscuits
11:15 AM
Resumption of excavations
12:30–13:00 PM
End of work, return to base
Around 13:30 PM
Lunch
Afternoon
Free time for siesta, until 16:00
16:00 PM
Start of afternoon work, indoor tasks:
• Cleaning of discovered artifacts
• Cleaning of bones
• Data entry
• Writing of work logs and planning for the next day
18:00–18:30 PM
End of all tasks
19:00 PM
Dinner
20:00 PM
Conference (if necessary)
21:00–22:00 PM
Free time
22:00 PM
Lights out, rest
The excavation season is like that. Generally, we dig 5 days a week (Libélin law only allows five working days per week, with two mandatory rest days), and each season lasts from 4 to 7 weeks. Usually, this takes place during the Month of Harvests and the Month of Heats, until the end of the Shifting Winds decade, because there are fewer rainy days and the temperature is more suitable for unearthing artifacts.
For projects like ours, related to classical and highly developed civilizations, the complete archaeological work on a single site can last from a few years to over ten years. Suffice to say, for the "Blessed Territory," we are only at the very beginning.
Our life is this: apart from eating and sleeping, the rest is work.
Seeing the schedule, Baba Yaga said to me with an ironic tone: "This really isn't boring at all…"
I smiled bitterly and, with my calm sense of impending doom, went into the bathroom to wash up.
At five o'clock sharp, almost everyone was there. The first official day of work, but the atmosphere was rather dilettantish. Truth be told, it was predictable. For Libélinese people to show up on a beach before daybreak and roughly on time was already proof of our exceptional diligence.
I signaled to Marto and Minos to find a few strong-armed, quick-legged fellows to drag the large crate containing the detection plates.
Meanwhile, I turned to Krishna to discuss the details of the upcoming wiring: connection interfaces, data module compatibility, setting up the muon plate scanning program… We had already reviewed all this the day before, but Krishna still looked as tense as a student during an exam.
At that moment, a clear voice rang out behind me: "Oh! So you're 'Sphinx'?"
I turned around instinctively. A figure stood not far behind me, backlit.
The man wore an impeccably cut shirt, the sleeves neatly rolled up to his forearms. A light camera hung from his elbow. His skin was so white it was almost reflective, his features fine, his lips slightly curled in a smile that seemed sprinkled with sugar, disarmingly familiar.
"Mimir, pleased to meet you." He added, in a tone that suggested he was introducing himself as the special guest of a show: "I am the new photographer and videographer, in charge of immortalizing all your highlights. And also – if I didn't show up last night, it was because of the after-effects of seasickness, not because I was putting on airs."
He extended his hand. His fingers were long and slender, his nails covered with an almost invisible matte varnish.
I hesitated for a moment, then shook his hand.
He looked down at my boots: "Wow, your boots are superb! Where did you buy them? I always thought sports and hiking gear was ugly."
I froze. It had been a long time since I'd had this kind of conversation. "I… I've had them for a long time. I forgot where I got them."
"Oh my, really nice. Decidedly, women's models are beautiful and practical."
Cobra was absolutely not awake. When I had gone out earlier, I had dragged him from the beach, and less than five seconds later, he had collapsed on the spot like an unearthed tortoise retracting into its shell, his snores resuming immediately.
Just as I was about to give him another kick, a dull engine sound was heard from the coast.
Our transport shuttle was docking.
But as soon as the railing lowered, I knew something was wrong. When Cyclops disembarked, he was flanked by two armed soldiers. Their rifles weren't aimed at anyone, but…
I instinctively stepped forward and exchanged a look with Cyclops.
"What are… you doing??" My gaze was almost an accusation.
Mimir seemed to arrive just at that moment. His camera swiveled slightly, the lens about to zoom in, but he was stopped by one of the soldiers who said impatiently: "No Filming!!"
Mimir's smile froze for an instant. With a flick of his finger, he turned off his camera and whispered to me: "My God, he's so mean…"
Baba Yaga stood behind me, one hand nonchalantly tucked into her pocket, her eyes fixed on the two soldiers. Her gaze was anything but friendly, as if she were assessing their firing range.
Cyclops turned to the crowd and announced in a loud voice, in his Félagnien so bad it was comical: "It seems the officers from Marshall are not particularly confident about our safety, so they've sent some men to... reinforce us."
After saying this, he winked at me, a mischievous look meaning "don't worry, I've got this."
I had to force a professional smile and reply in Félagnien: "Welcome, welcome to our documentary film crew."
Then, I took the initiative to applaud, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a bit. Only Mimir clapped with me. However, the two soldiers remained impassive, their gazes fixed.
So I had to withdraw my hand, dejected.
One of the soldiers spoke: "Stop pretending, our superiors know what you're doing. Besides, your people have already confessed everything."
My smile froze. I shot Cyclops a death glare.
Cyclops absolutely dared not meet my gaze and looked into the distance with a detached air.
Then, our group headed towards the ruins that had collapsed the day before, in a terribly awkward atmosphere.
Along the way, people finally began to whisper.
Minos lowered his voice: "They wouldn't be here to watch us, by any chance?"
Krishna frowned: "Since when does archaeological work require an armed escort?"
Baba Yaga said nothing, continuing to walk without looking back, her hand still in her pocket, while the two soldiers followed us a step behind, neither too close nor too far.
I quickened my pace to catch up with Cyclops, shoved my tablet under his nose pretending an academic discussion, and asked him in a low voice in Libélin: "How did these guys get here?"
"Last night, a group boarded our ship," he said in a resigned tone.
"Let me guess. You were dead drunk last night, you noticed absolutely nothing?"
"Exactly… This morning, they were both standing at the foot of my bed, their rifles pointed at me." As he said this, his voice betrayed a mixture of vexation and surprise.
"Oh… so you didn't give enough money?"
He scratched his already half-bald head: "Yes, I gave what was needed. But I imagine they want a piece of the pie."
"…You think they're easy to fool?"
He pursed his lips: "I think it should be fine."
I stopped and looked at him, clenching my teeth so hard I thought they'd break: "'Should be fine'??? Did you negotiate a price or not, in the end?"
"Meaning, giving them a few things that look valuable should be enough. Besides, do you expect these kinds of brutes to respect a contract?"
I took a deep breath and massaged my temples: "I swear this is the last time I do this kind of life-risking job with you."
He smiled and patted my shoulder: "Rest assured, it won't be the last time."
I rolled my eyes, deciding for the moment not to pursue it.
He looked around and suddenly asked: "Where's Anubis?"
My heart sank. True, that guy had disappeared again.
"Let him be," Cyclops sighed.
Soon after, our group arrived at the edge of the previous day's hole, and several dozen people quickly began to deploy the detection plates.
I opened my computer, ready to launch an initial ground scan with the lidar.
At that moment, one of the soldiers suddenly spoke: "What are you doing now?"
Cyclops immediately replied: "This is a surface survey. We need data to determine where it's suitable to excavate."
The soldier didn't answer. The air became heavy for a moment.
The other soldier then interjected abruptly: "No need to survey, I can see there are treasures over there. Why aren't you getting on with it? Dig quickly!"
Barely had these words been spoken when the two men simultaneously pointed their rifles at Cyclops and me.
Baba Yaga drew her weapon with lightning speed; Cobra, appearing out of nowhere at that moment, already held the largest excavation trowel in the camp in his hand.
"Everyone calm down!" Cyclops raised his hands, trying to control the situation. "It's alright, here's the situation…"
It was at this moment that Anubis nonchalantly arrived.
He saw the two soldiers but seemed entirely untroubled. On the contrary, he approached them a few steps and spoke in Félagnien so fluent it was almost elegant:
"Good morning, gentlemen! I am the director of the high seas auction house. If you want to get more money, I might be able to help. Artifacts with an archaeological background – that is, those with a 'story' to tell – can fetch at least double the price at auction. Otherwise, they're just scrap metal... or, let's say, just art pieces."
The soldiers frowned. He continued: "So don't rush. Let these people do it their way. You can contact your superior right now, tell him our offer will be transparent, and you'll get fifty percent of the sale price."
The two soldiers exchanged a look and slowly lowered their weapons. The walkie-talkie on one of their chests crackled: "Let them do it their way."
It seemed they had cameras on them and someone was watching us remotely.
Silence fell for a moment, then everyone, by tacit agreement, went back to work with their heads down, as if the previous scene had never happened.
Mimir finally found an opportunity to discreetly turn on his camera and began to film around the hole.
Anubis was telling the truth.
If an artifact is looted, taken out of its archaeological context and put on the market, its scientific value instantly evaporates by ninety percent.
But these are not questions that concern looters – we, in reality, work with these stories. The act of digging may not be so different from that of a child playing in the sand on the beach, but our goal is to reconstruct memory and history.
But in this situation… aren't we tomb raiders…?