Chapter Text
A lone ray of twilight peeked modestly through the dusty window of the Museum of Natural History, its glow went through the half-closed window and spilled over the walls and floorboards of the historic chambers. After that, the invisible movement of cool freshness slightly moved the thin curtain that hung on the cracked windowsill like a black mantle, and began to sneak down the corridor of the old room, looking for a suitable place where it could mingle without a trace with the whiff of antiquity and something impenetrable. All these subtle things foreshadowed the fact that the ghostly footsteps of the night would very soon shatter the absolute silence among the exhibits and, with a silent effort, spur the ancient tablet to work its magic. And so, as the rich tomb of Ahkmenrah is illuminated by the golden glow that marks the imminent emergence of life, the entire museum takes its first breath. The antique clock in the impregnable director's office chimed the hour of midnight; the hands of it began to move in a silent countdown to the first beam of sunlight, and with it, the chatter of voices and sound imitations began to rise across the vast expanse of the museum.
This was the beginning of a mediocre night life, during which the exhibits had to find interesting entertainment without destroying their living place to an unrecognizable state.
Gradually, one by one, the animals from the African mammal exhibit began to move into the museum's central wing, stretching their limbs after a long day of lethargy. Here they were greeted by a duo of dinosaurs from the very distant past - Tyrannosaurus and Triceratops, the intense rattling of their bones not-so-subtly signaling a want for an active pastime. The throaty exclamations of the Neanderthals, followed by the excited shouts of the Hun horde, rumbled from somewhere in the abyss of the long corridors, intertwined in some kind of labyrinth. In the hall of dioramas, too, the atmosphere had begun to buzz; even with such modest scale, there was a prickling presence of life in the air. The rocky terrain of the Wild West filled with sounds familiar to the local people: the ringing shouts of cowboys, the muffled clatter of hooves against the dusty grass, and the endless rumble of railroad construction. In contrast to the western lands, the territory of the great Roman Empire maintained a strictly disciplined appearance, devoid of overly loud events and bustling fiddling. Citizens were casually going about their daily business, while the mighty legion, the main component of this exhibition, was preparing for military exercises, which they performed in regular order.
It was this diorama that was the starting point for the events that followed, which radically rearranged the measured course of life for some of the exhibits.
. . .
After opening his eyelids to face the artificial sun that lay beneath the dome of the clear sky, Octavius involuntarily hissed a quiet curse through clenched teeth, his palm rushed upward to shield his eyes from the unexpectedly blinding light. With a sigh of relief, he lowered the tense hand that held the hilt of his sword in a tight grip, while his other hand wiped his eye with quick strokes. When Octavius finally got used to the bright light, he looked around at the unchanging Roman surroundings; the sprawling atrium of the diorama was perfectly visible from the temple on which stylobate he had just awakened, and he decided to take some time to savor the sight of the familiar expanse.
The majestic Colosseum, spreading a full yard at Octavius' right, winked with a quartz glow and at certain angles slightly dazzled the eyes, as if covered with a fine layer of a pearly luster. The sparse floral branches - a mere plastic semblance, but they stood out beautifully among the whitewashed marble buildings scattered around the perimeter of the central Roman square - curled with evergreen threads and wound like snakes around the strong carved columns. It was only at a fleeting glance at their mottling buds that Octavius caught the phantom muttering of bumblebees in the air, a random echo of sensations from a past life amidst the real and tangible. And to tell the truth, in the first seconds of awakening, the surroundings could indeed seem quite alive; even the bright light bulb under the ceiling of the diorama, which had caused Octavius' awakening to take a less than pleasant turn, seemed to be just as bright as the real sun, and ignited the usual warmth of heat-loving Rome.
Meanwhile, the forum gradually filled with the movement of red tunics and the gleam of iron armor, and a faint murmur of voices arose in the air: legionaries greeted and rested each other with mutual smiles of joy and recognition. Today, the general reminded himself, they were in for some hard training, because last night he had allowed his men a pleasant time of rest. This meant that each soldier would have to bring far more skill and concentration to the tasks than on normal days, and Octavius was bold enough to assert, without a backward glance, that they would perform their duties perfectly, as befitted first-class fighters raised under the majesty of the stately Empire. Active training was undoubtedly a great benefit to his legionaries, as this type of activity allowed them to release the excess energy gained during the long day's "sleep" and to hone their fighting skills more and more masterfully. Not without a reason the mighty empire was famous for its brilliant successes on the front lines and numerous conquests of foreign territories, although, if you think about it logically, all these achievements didn't make much sense within the context of the present time.
After a moment of looking around at the buzzing crowd, Octavius returned his sword to its sheath and silently raised his hand, palm forward, signaling for the soldiers to remain silent. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to the leader in anticipation of his opening speech, and he coughed slightly, preparing his vocal chords after a long silence.
“Good night, legion!” he announced in a deep voice and, after catching the smiles on the soldiers' faces, continued, “I hope you are all in good health, for as you must remember, some serious training is awaiting you tonight. I want each one of you to be thoroughly prepared while I’m away for a short time to check on our Wild West comrades.”
Octavius paused briefly to gauge the reaction of the legionaries, but to his own surprise he caught a few ticklish glances floating through the crowd, even heard a faint skeptical chuckle from someone. Somewhere in the depths of his chest, Octavius had a feeling of slight confusion; deceiving the Roman legion was not the easiest thing in the world, nor was it appropriate for his status, because, as if with a single mind, everyone understood that in the general's outlook there was only one person from the Wild West who regularly received his personal attention. Other Americans were rarely invited to his company, from which it was not difficult to draw clear conclusions. On the other hand, Octavius had no choice but to present a fake reason for his visit to the neighboring diorama, as he wasn't too keen on directly stating to the entire legion his actual intentions.
“Uh... Well, then... Get started!” he summarized, and not wanting to put himself in an even more uncomfortable position, he left.
The legionaries saluted him willingly, and the recent buzz of voices began to return. Some of the soldiers were engaged in a warm-up sword fight, fending off their opponents with practiced agility, while others were busy polishing and cleaning their weapons.
After passing the line of legionaries and following the white marble walkway, Octavius reached the steep edge of the diorama in a matter of seconds. Here he paused to analyze the situation inside the hall of dioramas and to listen to the sounds outside, trying to guess if it would be safe to descend to the ground now. He heard the muffled bustle of Mayan civilization, which the night guard had fenced off with a pane of glass before the tablet had even intervened, the echoes of full-sized exhibits from the museum's busy lobby, and the noisy sounds of work from a nearby diorama, where among the burst of many voices he recognized the most prominent and pleasant one to his hearing - the one that held the most important place in his little plastic heart. That voice, undeniably, belonged to Jedediah.
Any cautions of safety were instantly swept away like a tired wave from a sandy shore, and an involuntary smile touched Octavius' lips, too strong to brush it off and keep a steady expression on his face. Determined to action, he wasted no time and, in high spirits, went to pick up the rope that served him and the rest of the Roman citizens as a little path to the museum. Suddenly, however, after taking the rope from its usual place and returning to his original position, Octavius was displeased to find two legionaries approaching him in a hurry. It was Leonidas, his main advisor on matters of responsibility, accompanied by an unfamiliar conscript who, as far as Octavius could remember, had become a new addition to the Roman diorama only a few days before; in all the nights that had passed, he had never deigned to meet the young soldier in person and introduce himself to him in a proper way.
The two soldiers approached and saluted the general, to which Octavius nodded respectfully in a gesture of greeting. With a quick glance at the company, he noticed the slightly tense look on the new recruit's face, but decided not to pay much attention to it. It’s quite possible that the soldier hasn’t yet adjusted to all the miracles that take place in this museum, after which the unmoving exhibits are turned into living creatures, and Octavius didn't dare to reproach him for that.
“Well, warriors, I assume you have some questions for me?” Octavius asked, but the tone of his voice lacked any enthusiasm or genuine interest. Some nagging thought told him that he would most likely have to refrain from the meeting with Jedediah indefinitely, so Octavius couldn't maintain his former cheerful mood, no matter how hard he tried.
“Not exactly, my liege," Leonidas began. “We noticed that you seemed to have forgotten to count our legion, so we decided to remind you.”
And there it was - the inner suspicion turned into reality, causing a confused mud to descend upon Octavius' face. Not to say that he was in any way embarrassed by the sudden feeling that he was behaving like a frivolous fool, though the impulsive urge to meet Jedediah as soon as possible did in fact overtook any thoughts of routine obligations. It was more a matter of the obvious fact that he would still have to go back and do the counting of legionaries, which was a rather boring and time-consuming endeavor by the standards of their quite short awake time. On top of that, there had been a little party in the expanse of the museum last night, and there was a chance that they might have lost any of the legionaries, so Octavius should have returned to his post as leader right now. No doubt Octavius genuinely valued his legion and did much for their welfare, but when it came to his dearly beloved person, all the things, important and unimportant, faded into the background.
“Indeed," he finally agreed, then crossed his arms over his cold breastplate and sighed heavily. “Then I'll have to delay my meeting with the Wild West...”
Apparently, the conscript caught slightly frustrated tone in the general's reply and decided to speak:
"I think that's not necessary, my liege. If you'll let me, I'll take care of this task myself, and then you can go and visit your... Uh, allies, I suppose?"
“Oh, that's a fine idea!” Leonidas nodded in agreement. Octavius noticed that for some obscure reason he visibly became more cheerful upon hearing the young soldier's suggestion.
After listening carefully to the soldiers, Octavius imagined the strange thought that, compared to the slightly shrill Leonidas, the young conscript possessed a rather good and steady sounding of voice, with which it wouldn't be shameful to read lyrical poems before a large audience... In any case, the conscript's offer of help seemed very wise to Octavius, and perhaps he would indeed give him responsibility for the task. After struggling a little with the strange feeling in his chest, he came to a final decision, but before he voiced his answer, he should have, as a matter of propriety and courtesy, inquired about the name of this intelligent man.
"What’s your name, young man?"
"It's Adrian, my liege," the soldier introduced himself and put his chest forward with the pride that didn't match his youthful appearance.
"Well, Adrian, many thanks for your kind offer. First of all, go to my tablinium and find the legion census. Keep Leonidas company, he'll lead you to the right place and unlock the door to my villa."
"Instructions accepted," Leonidas responded hastily, raising a bushy eyebrow that hid beneath his galea. "Can we go?"
"No, there's a few more notes," Octavius said firmly, continuing his explanation. "Among other things, make sure everyone is in the main square. If anyone is missing, report to me when I return for training. Understood?"
"Understood, my liege. Is that all that needs to be taken into consideration?" Adrian asked curiously, while Leonidas’ upbeat mood gradually faded and turned to a bored feeling that thickened more and more with each second of formal dialogue. Leonidas had long ago memorized every manipulation the general had listed, because Octavius used to do it practically every night, apart from some exceptions, and another lecture on this topic caused in him a terrible boredom that made his mouth want to crack into a thick yawn.
"Well, I suppose so," Octavius shrugged and waved his hand lightly in a farewell gesture. “Go now.”
Not wanting to delay the general a second longer, Leonidas clutched Adrian's forearm in a tight grip and led him along the path behind him. Adrian easily followed his companion's harsh motion, but nevertheless he allowed himself a fleeting thought that such an immodest temperament, matched by an impatient demeanor, might play a cruel trick on Leonidas at some unexpected moment; it was only a matter of time. Though, on the other hand, such impudent qualities of his personality might have played a role in positive things, such as keeping the legion in good standing or a solemn moment of battle with the enemy, even though Leonidas had told him that the Roman Empire no longer spared wars and had no enemies on the museum grounds. Adrian himself was a quiet and modest man, so he couldn't really understand by what "miracle" his extraordinary comrade had ended up at the general's right hand.
Glancing over his shoulder towards Octavius, Adrian's eyes followed his unhurried movements as he laboriously worked on attaching the rope to the edge of the diorama. Adrian didn't fail to notice how a warm, almost tender expression rested in his half-lidded eyes, and how some quiet, pleasant thoughts the general had fallen headlong into brought out a blossoming smile that adorned his face, which was filled with stubborn nobility, with a feeling close to blissful longing. This little sight somehow had an inexplicable calming effect on Adrian's confused state of mind and lifted his spirits; but to his surprise, the soft emotion was suddenly replaced by a quick realization that crossed Octavius' face like a hound horse, and his eyes darted towards the retreating legionaries, who hadn't gone more than a dozen paces.
"Soldiers!" he shouted. “Excuse me, there's one more important instruction: don't touch anything unnecessary! Take only the census and nothing else, is that clear?”
The legionaries exchanged puzzled glances, and Adrian seemed to catch a faint glimmer of intrigue in Leonidas' eyes, but decided not to make a mental note of that. Perhaps he was just imagining it.
“Never in my mind, my liege. You have nothing to worry about," Adrian assured him and smiled for the first time in Octavius' presence, hoping it would lend credibility to his words.
Octavius nodded, quite satisfied with that answer, and checked the knot that connected the end of the rope to the edge of the diorama. He tugged at the rope to make sure it was secure, then stepped close to the diorama's abrupt edge and, with a last glance at the legionaries, disappeared into the museum without further ado, his long cloak following him like a red shadow.