I spend the rest of the day following Master and Sir Finley around behind the scenes at the museum as the scientists celebrate their find, and examine each little bit of history found inside. I stand in my usual spot in the back of an adjacent room to where the cart is located, and watch as fresh-faced students and researchers bring everything piece by piece and lay them on expansive tables. Each one holding a single mummified skeleton with everything found with it. That tended to only be their chains, their clothing not standing the test of time as well. The resting forms ranged in size from a hulking man I vaguely remembered to a tiny body lain out on a table in the far back of the room. A single dilapidated shoe set up next to its miniature feet. Master was a whirlwind of action, moving between the tables and examining every piece brought into the room before it’s placed onto the corresponding table, his green eyes almost wild with curiosity. Sir Finley stands near the door to where the cart was being gutted and checks each object entering the area and logs them into his holo-pad. This was a well-oiled machine run on the wonder and excitement of these people who didn’t truly understand the story or implications of what they were uncovering. They loved the thought of these people being the first to have ever stepped foot in this land they now call home. It slowly becomes romanticized and embellished. These poor souls are turned into heroes who lost their lives in the mission to settle the unknown lands beyond the Aurora. Reality is no longer sought out, and after a short time is lost to memory. These people were slaves that had no say in where they were going or for what they were traveling for. All they cared about was eventually receiving a meal, and weather or not they were allowed to relieve themselves before they were forced to sit in their own waste. They died with the full knowledge that no one was coming to save them. Their only solace was in their belief that the gods would welcome them to the heavens. I glance back at the child in the back of the room and release a deep breath. I hope that there is a place like that somewhere out there that this poor baby could live for eternity, free from the horrors of this world.

Sir Finley breaks away from his station near the door and begins to walk in my direction. I make sure I am in proper order as he approaches. “ Meredith, do you have any knowledge as to what this is?” He asks and extends a small object in his right hand. It is a little wooden totem of a long forgotten god. The face bearing the intertwined images a thorned rose and an entrapped sheep. “This is an image depicting the fall of Minna. Many people used to worship the god Goriath who is seen here as a rose bush. It is a religious object that a person wore around their neck for protection.” He looks again at the small piece of wood and squints his eyes. “Ah yes! I think I see it! How wonderful!” His voice almost raises a whole octave in his excitement. “I never knew the slaves had religions of their own.” He looks questioningly at me. I almost want to laugh, and cry at the same time. He cannot fathom slaves doing anything but what the Empire wanted them to do. “ There used to be many religions practiced by many kingdoms and tribes. When the empire conquered the land they were forbidden. But the people from these places did not give up on the gods of their own lands.”

Now Sir Finley’s face was a mask of excitement. He turns away to yell across the room “Hey Willy! Come over here!” Master is startled from his inspection of a corpse and he quickly crosses the room. “I think we have found an ancient treasure.” Sir Finley says with a proud smile.