Chapter Text
“We’ve arrived at Victoria Station. Please watch your step!” The conductor’s voice chimes amidst the clacking of the train, followed by the din of a blaring horn and clanging bell. [Reader] wakes from their stupor, immediately shaking off fatigue from their muscles. They quickly gather their belongings and take out a pocket watch.
The ticking artifact marks the time: 1’o’clock noon sharp. Perfect.
The locomotive screeches to a halt, finally stopping at an industrial station. Victoria Station, a hubbub of metropolitan hustle and industrial prestige, towers over the surrounding premises as departing and arriving locomotives and people bustle about in the scene. You’ve finally arrived..
There was little time to bask in the ambiance of the train station. You had to hurry along to the next destination: the London Museum. You maneuver past meandering tourists, merchants, and businesspersons, hoping to emerge out of the crowd as quickly as possible.
“[Reader]! Is there a [Reader] here?”
A voice startles the traveler from their stupor. Awaiting them at the entrance is a young chauffeur. His amicable smile and polite countenance conveys an air of earnest, his blonde locks nearly glimmering in the radiant sunlight. “Yes, I’m here,” [Reader] greets formally, politely extending their hand for a handshake. He accepts with a polite smile, shaking it firmly.
“You may call me, Blake King, Mx. [Reader]. I’ll be your guide during your time here in London. Please allow me to take your belongings,”
The traveler opens their mouth to protest. However, the young man flashes another polite smile before taking their luggage. “No need to worry, Mx. [Reader]. I will take care of your belongings for the time being. You can trust me.” A genuine promise with a smile at the curve of his lips. With gloved hands, he hoists their suitcase, handling them gingerly as if it were precious chinaware.
“Thank you,” They have a relieved sigh.
“Your papers?”
“I’ll hold on to them, thank you, Blake,”
“Very well, then. Shall we?”
━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━
Emerging from the bustling crowd, the pair steps into a threshold of autumnal bliss: a radiant, pale sun shines by the cerulean heavens, not a cloud in sight. A cool wind from the east startles deciduous leaves from their branches, shades of reds, oranges, and yellows painting pavements with colors of flame. Beautiful was the word one could label this moment, yet it was different from their countryside home, where autumn painted a richer picture in grand pastures and meadows. No time to think of home, [Reader] chides themselves. They must focus on the task at hand: discuss matters with the museum curator and ascertain the nature of their father’s notes.
Blake guides them to a lavish carriage, stationed by a pair of gallant and tamed horses. They give out lethargic snorts and neighs, as a note of formal greeting. A youthful horseman by the perch tips his beret in greeting. He pardons himself to assist Blake with [Reader]’s belongings.
“This way, [Reader]. Please watch your step,”
He bids, offering them a hand.
“Thank you,” was the rehearsed reply to his gesture. For a moment, they could glimpse a kind smile from him, his beaming smile resembling that of an eager puppy. A humorous notion, [Reader] had to stifle a chuckle.
They settle in a velvety threshold, a luxurious place they’d never thought of being in until now. The seats, fabricated with the most authentic material, felt smooth and firm to the touch. Indigo satin curtains veil the morning sun, casting the threshold into a dark shade. They glimpse an intricately wrapped item alongside an envelope with an embellished red seal.
To [Reader]; From Sir Leech, the envelope reads in neat penmanship.
“Where to, sire?”
“The British Museum, please,”
You hear Blake’s voice from outside.
Perhaps I should read this later.. . [Reader] contemplates as their eyes drift to the artifact. They undo tight knots to reveal a beautiful yet functional pocket watch. Its sheen flawless in the dim light, they fathom the telltale tick. The hands tell the correct time: 2 in the afternoon.
Almost tea time.
Just in time for their appointment with the museum curator. There was much to be done, and so much to do. Satin gloves grip on the leather handle of their briefcase. Inside were invaluable sources to what could lead to a groundbreaking discovery of the century. After months of burning the candlelight of deciphering a foreign text, cross-referencing with other sources, and concluding to a plausible answer, [Reader] finds themselves in the heart of something grandiose..
Many questions whirl about in their mind: What if this artifact was a ruse to ward off outsiders? What if an unknown curse had been cast on the artifact, a taboo object that could potentially curse others unknowingly? It was too much to ruminate about.
“Mx. [Reader], we’re here!” Blake’s voice breaks their reverie. Excitement bubbling in their midst, they clutch at the pocket watch and briefcase in anticipation. There it is, the British Museum, austere and eloquent in its glory. The very place where they can only hope for the best, to clarify the confusion they’ve had for so long..
The carriage stops at the entrance. Blake dismounts, saying a quick word of thanks to the horseman.
“Please watch your step, [Reader],” He says, offering a hand to them.
“Thank you,” With a light step, you dismount the taxi carriage, allowing Blake to take some of your luggage, save for the briefcase of documents you intend to carry.
“Please follow me, [Reader]. The British Museum is quite expansive and one can get easily lost if you’re not being careful,” The escort takes the lead, guiding his guest deep into the labyrinthine interior of the museum. They pass rooms of rarities and antiquities of great historical value, pass regal paintings done in intricate detail, and pass by grand vases and structures that rivaled the beauty of modern day architecture.
Finally, the pair stops by a door, one can presume must be the office of the curator. The plaque on the door reads exactly as anticipated:
Jade Leech, Curator of the British Museum
Blake straightens himself, correcting his tie for a moment, and gives [Reader] a brief glance. They nod, steeling themselves. He knocks on the wood with a gloved hand.
“Sir Leech, I’ve brought Mx. [Reader] here. May we come in?”
“Come in, Mr. King,”
A relieved smile graces his lips, opening the door for them to come in first. Upon entering the study, memorabilia of previous curators, certificates of new antiquities coming to the Museum, and quaint oil paintings decorate about the walls and desk. By the threshold, a well-suited man with eyes of olive at his right and a glowing golden at his left, pauses his conversation with another man sharply dressed in a fedora and dapper suit. This may be Jade Leech , [Reader] stipulates as the two men concludes their conversation. The curator flashes a polite smile to the incoming guests.
“Well then, we will resume our conversation at a later appointment, Mr. Ashengrotto.”
“Indeed, Mr. Leech,”
Both men shake hands formally, the sheer height difference between the two quite startling, with Jade towering Mr. Ashengrotto greatly. Mr. Ashengrotto excuses himself from the room, leaving Blake and [Reader] in the room. A polite smile returns to Jade’s lips,
“Please make yourself comfortable, Mx. [Reader]. King, please prepare some tea,”
“Yes, Sir,”
[Reader] complies, sitting across from him. Blake excuses himself to attend his duties. Jade eyes the envelope by their hand inquiringly, his eyebrow perched at an arc.
“Have you read my letter yet, [Reader]?”
“My apologies, Sir Leech. I have yet to read it myself..” Ears flame from embarrassment, [Reader] apologizes. Jade’s smile twitches,
“Very well. You may open and read it,”
You obey his word and unfold the envelope, reading neat penmanship on parchment paper.
“Dear Mx. [Reader],
Thank you for entrusting me your findings about the Sacred Gem. Your family will be remembered for all they’ve done in contribution to this research. Your passion and fervor has inspired me to partake into this research. Our previous conversations over tea made me consider some thoughts for a while, and I’d like to share my sentiments with you on paper before we meet you again.
From my understanding, the Sacred Gem was acknowledged as a symbol of power from the time of pharaohs, similar to the Flail and Crook of Osiris and the Double Crown symbolizing the unicameral rule of both sides of Egypt.. It was acknowledged amongst the priests as a symbol from the goddess of magic, an artifact infused with magic untold and if the pharaoh wielded this artifact, it would mean that he is the ruler of the magicks and the earth.
Yet, what your studies have brought me is that of the meaning and the dangers of the Sacred Gem. I’ve never realized its dexterity and downfalls as a medium of power. Such detail never crossed my mind, and I thank you for enlightening me in this matter. It’s fascinating, really and it’s even more fascinating that many historians have yet to spare the time to excavate it. I’ll be more than happy to join you in your efforts to discover this and bring this to the light of the public, but do I have your permission to join you?
Sincerely,
Jade Leech.
Curator of the British Museum
“Well then, [Reader]?” Jade’s voice chimes them back to reality. His smooth smile indicates of a level-headed host prepared for an excitable guest. The golden eye by his left dims.
This was perfect! The curator of the British Museum lending his assistance for future endeavors! Yet, [Reader] peers from the letter.
“Are you certain, Mr. Leech?” They inquiry. Jade’s smile only widens, revealing a toothy grin.
“Why, of course, [Reader]. I’ve already appointed someone as a temporary curator for the time being. No need to worry, I have full confidence that my acquaintance will take good care of the museum when we’re off gallivanting to our adventure,” There was something about Jade’s voice that brought a chill up to their spine.
“Shall we?” He extends a gloved hand to you, his toothy smile somehow calm and calculating.
Will [Reader] accept him or not?