Cornack Manor, Derbyshire England.
December 26th, 1929.
7:30 PM

---

"My lord?"

The snow drifted lazily along the front yard of the manor, flakes clinging to the window Thomas Cornack gazed without. It was a cold evening, one he could feel within his bones. Idly, he rubbed his thumb along the bronze, chameleon engraved locket his brother had given him two decades ago. His retainer had to inquire about him a second time for him to break from his reverie.

"Lord Cornack?" the servant urged, concerned of how this entire enterprise could effect the elderly fellow. He wasn't decrepit or helpless yet, but the past 12 years had taken a toll on even his lively energy."Hmmm?" The elderly man started. He turned to the ever loyal Bertrand. "Yes, Bertrand?"

"The first of your arrivals is here, sir. It seems to be the young Alcander. The lad you met a fortnight past?" Bertrand reminded him, aiding him out of his chair with a careful strength.
"Ah, fashionably early I see." Thomas Cornach said with fire, reaching for his cane. "I remember him. He reminded me of Bradley so very much." The servant gave a smile. "As he did me, sir."

Thomas glanced at Bertrand for a moment as he helped him up, and thanked God that such a man was to serve under him. The Brookstones had been retainers and squires to the Cornacks for centuries, and not once did the Cornacks ever have reason to regret it. Of course they had been kind patrons and nobles, but still. Loyalty was so rare these days. It warmed the old man that he still had family left in Bertram, if no one else. "See to the cooks and make sure they prepare the table, and let young Alcander in. I will be down shortly."

"Yes, my lord."

---

As per his usual restlessness, Alcander had only taken the cab to the front of the estate, which still gave him a fair mile to walk in the ever colder temperature of the calm night, something he was now regretting. From his childhood in London, one would think he'd be used to the climate. Oh, he was stoic about it. He'd had a few forays into the frigid regions of the world, most recently Scandanavia. But he had a very real fondness for tropical climates.

The outer wall he had passed through was stone, encompassing the entire estate if he had to guess. Alcander briefly recalled his old lessons in english history, and had the suspicion that this estate was once a fortified manor in the medieval period. It certainly gave such an impression with its imposing defenses and gateway, not to mention a very handsome stable to the left. Within he could hear the short neighing of the beasts, and he smiled. He had not ridden a horse in some time.

As he approached, he passed by tangled foliage he assumed would be exquisitely trimmed hedges and a bountiful garden had it been a warmer time of year. Above in the window, a small flicker of light caught in his peripherals, indicating movement. It must have been one of the butlers having seen him, and the archaeologist pulled his coat tighter around him, expecting to be waiting outside a moment as they announced him to the Lord and traversed the many corridors to reach the front doorway. Unfortunately for Alcander, it would take 10 minutes of waiting and a dozen knocks before his prayers for warmth were answered.

When the door opened to reveal the handsomely dressed retainer Bertram, Alcander nearly bit his tongue on his chattering teeth. "Yes, Dr. Mires. How are you this evening?" Bertram asked, conversationally. His words seemed to flow out lazily past his stylish mustache. Alcander was a bit too cold and impatient to answer cordially. "Fine, how are you?" He said quickly, and he stepped inside just as Bertram replied with a 'please come in.'

"Allow me to take your coat. Please find yourself a seat in the banquet hall. You are the first to arrive, you're to know."

Alcander slid his coat off to show one of the few more fashionable vests and long sleeved shirts he owned. He felt the chill seeping off of him as if ice was melting. He felt rigid enough, and the scholar reached up to fix his collar, the movement limbering him up slightly. "Thank you." He said.

The room they stood in now was a foyer of dark marble, the size of a moderately wealthy man's living room. To the right was a finely polished table with a bust of Socrates to greet visitors. Fitting in a way, Alcander mused. He thanked Bertram, and walked into the short but tall corridor of carved timber, passing by an extravagant painting of the Song of Roland, before stepping into the immense banquet hall. It was hard to describe the sheer size because it was belied by the comfortable surroundings of chairs and hearths, along with a gilded chandelier above the long table. Upon the center of the table was a globe.

Alcander decided to sit and wait, drinking a very sweet pint of mead as he waited.

"Mujhe sard mausam se ghrna hai..."

The unpleasant thoughts of frostbite and hypothermia filled her head as she opened the door of the building, letting out an uncharacteristic squeal as the cold slammed her cheeks. The warmth of her coat was more than enough, especially considering the fur trim, but for her she may as well have been without it. Her stockings did little to protect her legs from the wind, and she ended up in a shaky, clumsy sprint as she ran outside. Throwing herself into the cab, she let out a huff of annoyance as the driver opened his door, his chuckling doing little to lift her mood. She never did like the cold very much, the sight of snow alone being enough to dampen her spirits. Rubbing her shivering knees, she made herself comfortable as the cab drove off.

All things considered, Lakshmi Datta was excited--cold weather notwithstanding. At first she had tried not to think about it too much, to keep her expectations realistic about the man who had requested her presence. Of course that was immediately thrown to the way and her head was filled with the fantasies she often read about in journals and books. Her imagination went from the mundane to the most fantastical stories she could come up with--she had thought she had heard of Thomas Cornell once, but after properly reading the letter she realized the bloke's name was Thomas Cormack. Who was...a man of wealth? A count? No, a lord? The proper thing would have been to do some research beforehand, but she just figured she would take things as it would happen. Or something. She never was any good at properly planning things.

Of course, as the cab arrived at the estate, a prick of regret came. The place was enormous, immediately reminding her of her previous in-laws', though that memory was pushed aside as she would lean towards the window to get a better look. Before she knew it, the cab had come to a halt. Perking up, her enthusiasm was whisked away as the driver opened the door. There was no excusing her scowl as she heard his laugh at her once more, though she did thank him properly as she quickly walked to the door of the manor. Knocking rapidly on the door, she took a few steps back, exhaling impatiently as she looked down at her heels. Heels. Why did she decide to wear heels? Why did she decide to wear a fancy dress and heels when she could have worn some warm trousers?

Thankfully the sound of the door opening and warm air beckoning her forward would snap Lakshmi out of unpleasant thoughts. Throwing on a smile, she summoned her dignity as a man greeted her pleasantly. "Good evening," She said, her voice dripping with honey for her savior from the wicked weather. He seemed amused at her distaste for the cold, but she hadn't noticed as she took off her coat. Once she was instructed on where to go, she gave herself a one over one last time; her long hair in a high, elegant bun, her celeste blue dress hanging off her curves favorably, and her white heels currently biting into her toes but still looking fabulous.

Lakshmi couldn't quite stop her jaw from dropping as she took in the sights, the echo of her heels clicking the floor being her only companion. It was a lot grander than she had pictured, putting her imagination to shame, and she was practically giddy by the time she reached the banquet hall. She stood at the doorway, standing still as she looked all around the hall. It took her a moment to realize there was someone else already seated. He looked relaxed, a drink in hand as he was likely waiting for whoever else had been invited. Was this Thomas? No, he looked much too young...though that didn't mean he wasn't the lord. Then again, he looked too rough, too weathered for someone who was likely to have lived a sheltered life of luxury.

Rather than staying in mystery, Lakshmi decided to simply get his name. The worst that could happen was a correction on her part, to which she would fully own up to and apologize for assuming the lord to be an older, scruffy man. "Hello there," She said, giving him a small wave. "First to arrive?"

It was quarter to eight in the evening by the time the cab pulled into the gates of the Cornack Manor, a newer Peugeot that was driven with pride by a man who had served in the merchant navy during the war and had saved his money to afford the vehicle. He claimed driving was his passion and years of being trapped on a large ship without feeling the ground beneath his feet helped put things in perspective for him. While the driver was a friendly man and it certainly helped pass the drive from Birmingham to Derbyshire, Lucian DuBois had rather wished for a few moments to his own thoughts as he stared out the window at the hated white power that engulfed the countryside like some form of evil marmalade that sucked the warmth and comfort from the world around it. Even with a fur-lined coat and thick gloves, the chill seemed to seep through the layers like tendrils that wished to finish what it started in the trenches over a decade ago. The Frenchman pulled his arms tighter around his waist, despising seeing his own breath and suddenly very much so missing the tropical climate he’d grown rather accustomed to.

Mercifully, the car pulled up to the front doors of the commanding stone-walled mansion that was likely worth more than Lucian would see in a lifetime. The driver hopped out before Lucian did and immediately had the trunk open, pulling free the duffle bag and suitcase that had been his customer’s possessions and once paid his fare, took off back into the night, quite merrily given the abysmal weather and the fact he had another close to two hour trip back to Birmingham. Lucian shouldered the duffle bag, supporting it by a strap and picking up the suitcase with another as he approached the door, which opened before him to show a dapper man he assumed was the butler.

“Monsieur DuBois, I presume?” The impeccable enunciation came from beneath a neatly trimmed mustache. Lucian nodded affirmatively. “Allow me to bid you welcome on behalf of Master Cornack. With your permission, I will take your coat and luggage for you. There are already some of your compatriots waiting in the banquet hall.” He said with a gesture.

Lucian had set his bags down and had removed his coat, folding it nicely over an arm for the butler to take. “Merci…” Lucian said, his voice trailing off invitingly.

“Bertram.” The man replied with a polite bow. Lucian nodded appreciatively.

“Bertram.” Lucian repeated. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

With that, Lucian adjusted the sleeves of the thick green wool sweater he wore and the sky blue scarf about his neck and proceeded down the corridor, only sparing the most minute glances towards his surroundings. He felt it prudent to not gawk like a tourist while a guest in someone’s home, and he had never been one to indulge in the ostentatious.

The banquet hall opened up before him, and the few bodies that occupied it seemed to be lost in the magnificently large room, which would have been much more suitable for hosting a wedding reception than conduct a business meeting, for which Lucian felt a study would have been a far more adequate space. There was another man, younger than him by a few years who looked like he hailed from the Mediterranean, like a Sicilian or Greek. Lucian offered the man a courteous nod before taking in the fetching Indian woman in quite a marvelous blue dress; Lakshmi simply always carried herself like a woman who belonged in film, or mingling with the upper crust of society. It made the short, but warm, history between the two of them all the more curious. Whereas she was a woman of exotic origin who had always carried herself with an air of proper aristocratic flare and carried a carefully cultivated appearance that commanded attention, Lucian was always a man of practicality and some might have described it as rustic charm. City life had long ceased to have much charm for the Frenchman as he detested crowds of soft, clueless people who had never connected with the natural world, except for throwing stones at pigeons, maybe. As such, he dressed for comfort and casual attire most of the time; he could not recall the last time he had worn a tie.

Lucian approached Lakshmi, taking her hand and gently kissing it through his thick beard. “Lakshmi, a pleasure. I do hope you have been in good health and fortune since our last meeting.” Lucian said as a greeting before taking a seat two spots down from her to give her a respectful distance that still made conversation easy. He adjusted in his seat, pulling it closer to the table and folding his hands on the tablecloth.

Lysandra von Brennenburg sat in the back of the motorcar her father had arranged to take her to Derbyshire. Her elbow rested on the windowsill of the car, propping up her head as she peered, slightly uninterested at the dull scenery. The first few miles had been exciting and she had willingly drank in all of the scenery she could, noting the buildings and small villages they had passed as well as other manors. However by the fiftieth mile, it all began to blend together in one big white blanket. The driver had been quiet the whole way, he must have had directions given to him already, because he seemed to know where to go without Lysandra having spoken a word to him. That suited her fine, most of the Englishmen she had met seemed to value silence highly, something she respected. Not that she hated talking to people, she just disliked frivolous small talk. She preferred her conversations to have a purpose, a goal in mind. With that thought in mind, she let herself drift back into daydreaming and watching the waves of white pass by.

Some time had passed before Lysandra's brain had switched back into alert mode. The large manor house had slowly began creeping into view from it's perch on the horizon. The Adventuress sat up and adjusted her dress. It made her look like an ancient pagan priestess, with its black colour matched with her long raven hair, the bare shoulders, curve-hugging figure and feather collar. She also brought along a fur-lined jacket for the biting chill outside. Lysandra slowly gathered herself up and shook herself out of her dreamy state as the motorcar slid to a stop in front of the gate. It was dark outside as she stepped into the bitter cold and wrapped herself in her jacket before making her way (slowly, to avoid slipping) to the boot of the car. The driver helped her to open it and retrieve her bags.

"Thank you sir, you drove admirably, shall I pay you then?" Lysandra inquired, each word causing puffs of breath in the cold evening air.

"No, madam, I was paid handsomely in advance, it was my pleasure." The driver answered, tipping his cap.

"Very well. Drive safely sir, this weather is dreadful." Lysandra said with a smile.

With that, the driver reentered his vehicle and drove off into the night, leaving Lysandra alone with the icicles on the gate and her bags. Huffing in slight annoyance, she picked the leather suitcases up and (with some trouble on account of the fact that heels are awful for snow) made her way to the grand porte that was the entrance to the manor house. Before she had even set her suitcases down to knock, the door opened and standing in its arch was a sharply dressed older man. Wordlessly, he held his hands out and relieved Lysandra of her burden. "Lady von Brennenburg?" The man asked. "The very same." Lysandra answered. The Butler gestured for her to enter and continued, "Master Cornack has eagerly awaited your arrival, Madame. You are the fourth to arrive. The rest of the group has gathered in the banquet hall. My name is Bertram should you need anything."

Lysandra bowed her head slightly, "Danke Bertram. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My father sends his regards as well." The older butler smiled at the comment, evidently pleased. The woman took off her coat and set it folded on one of the suitcases. It was pleasingly warm in the manor, but not overly so. Alone in the foyer, Lys took the time to make sure her hair was in place and brush what snow remained from her dress and feathers. Her outfit saved, she took a deep breath and began strutting down the hall. Up in the corridor there were paintings of Lord Carnack and various ancestors as well as siblings. She spared only passing glances at the pictures themselves, she had seen many like them in her travels across Europe. In her family's manor there were many portraits like the present set of her own ancestors.

Lysandra von Brennenburg slipped into the banquet hall and scanned the room. Sure enough, there were three others in the room. All of which seemed out of place in the ostentatious room. In fact the only thing that would have looked IN place in such a large room would be a large ball, or perhaps a gala. Regardless of how out of place they might look, Lys approached the small group for a closer look. There was a rather attractive Indian woman, whom Lysandra did not recognise, talking to someone she did recognise. It had been many years since she had last seen him, perhaps ten or more. She had last been in her teens when he had visited her father. However her father had expected him to be there and had given Lys a letter to give to him upon her earliest meeting. Though given that he was currently engrossed in a conversation with the other woman, Lysandra thought best to wait and take her seat before thrusting any gifts upon anyone, acquaintance or no. The other man was tanned and looked to be around her own age, though he clearly was of the world.

Lady von Brennenburg gracefully took a seat at the large table a few chairs over from the younger man and watched the others intently.

Viscountess Hailsham was not satisfied to say the least by the interruption of her business with Ellen, but still Elle had managed to leave without the usual conclusion of their negotiations and with the information she was after in hand, so to speak. That meant of course she'd had to pay the Viscountess her usual monetary fee and had left her a very sour lady. Something El actively tried to avoid when dealing with nobility. Most were sour by default, to do something to further that natural state spelled unpleasantness all round.

Still even the Viscountess could not begrudge Elle a summons from Baron Thomas Carnock and had reluctantly agreed to not hold this incident against her. Thus, information in hand El made her way back home where she took the time to clue her father in on what she'd found out from Viscountess Hailsham, as well as about the summons from the Baron. The two of them had a very pleasant discussion, speculating on the prospects for both jobs. The Earl had been very intrigued and somewhat saddened that he could no longer accompany his daughter out on the field since his advancing age, coupled with his usually frail disposition had permanently sequestered him to the confines of their family home.

Richard had sent his little girl off to her next adventure with a tight hug and a mist of tears covering his eyes. As the car rushed by the landscape and her eyes flickered over it fleetingly Elle remembered the scene with a mixture of sadness and warmth. Her dad was her best friend in the whole world and for many years the two of them had been partners in crime, for lack of a better term. Now it was up to her to carry the family mantle and do right by lost or misplaced artifacts and go bravely forth in the search of ancient lost or forgotten civilizations! El let her mind wonder as Preston Jr was driving her toward her destination. The son of their family butler knew better than to interrupt his lady when she was deep in thought, so when a soft clearing of the throat disturbed her ears, Elle knew it was not unwarranted.

"We're a minute out, milady." Preston Jr announced in a subdued voice. He was nearly Elle's age and the two of them had grown up together as close friends but when Jr was near her in his official capacity he insisted on maintaining that irritating servant/master distance. Elle had tried time and again to shake him out of it, but Junior insisted it was a sign of respect towards her and what she'd accomplished more than her lineage, of which they both knew well, she had none. Of course to that she would often, when in the mood to argue, counter Jr's own accomplishments in finance and business administration, but the man would not budge.

Elle sighed softly, for once not in the mood to argue with Preston's weird butler sensibilities. "Thanks for the ride, Pres." The Countess said hastily attempting to open the door of the car and exit before Jr had the time to get out himself and open it for her, but of course she was too late and found herself face to face with the smirking Preston Jr offering her his hand. "Oh, fine, you weird man!" Elle grumbled and allowed him to extricate her from the coupe of the car. Preston winked at her, surely allowing himself such liberties as they were the only two people to stand in the spacious driveway of the Baron's manor. He handed her the duffle bag she used for her travels and sent her off towards the front door of the mansion with the words: "Try not to get yourself into too much trouble this time!" El twisted around to shoot back a retort, but he was already inside the car and backing up, grinning. He'll never let me live that one time down, will he! Elle thought as she approached the door.

The cold weather had been completely lost on her. She'd lived through far worse as a child. True, she was wearing her winter leathers, lined with wool and other isolating and warming fabrics, but she still showed a blatant disregard for the biting wind with her open collar and easy grin as a stately servant opened the door and ushered her inside the manor. "Good evening, Lady Pelham, the Baron is expecting you. Most of your companions have already arrived. I am Bertram, the Baron's head butler, may I escort you to where the others await?"

Elle's grin got even wider. Must be a butler thing. She thought, remembering Junior's insistence of interacting with her a certain way when in official capacity. "Lead the way, my good man!" El nodded to the butler in a jolly manner. Her eyes only briefly scanned the interior of the mansion. Growing up as the Earl's daughter she'd quickly become desensitized with the posh and glam of England's high society. She cared little for the pomp that came with being nobility and only bore it for the sake of her dad, who'd saved her from a life of misery. As soon as she was lead in to the extravagant banquet hall, she noticed a couple of familiar faces. Seeing Alcander there was a pleasant surprise, but not much of a surprise. If the Baron had summoned her it wasn't a great leap to make that he would seek out other specialists with the same area of expertise. A more... well... pleasant was not the word she'd use when faced with the presence of Lysandra von Brennenburg, since the two of them had this friendly rivals/rivaling friends vibe going on... So a more intriguing surprise was seeing Lady Brennenburg, seated among the gathered in the hall.

El nodded at Al, tossing a wink in his direction, while accosting the Lady Brennenburg. "Why, Lys, fancy meeting you here!" Elle grinned roguishly.

"Click go the shears boys, click, click, click," hummed Jack as he tramped along the winding path. His lips curled into what only charitably described as a smile. Smirk was a much more appropriate term. A fight always got his blood up, better proof against the cold than a fur cloak. Oh he'd be hurting in the morning, but he figured he was doing better than the battered Hun he had left bleeding in the snowbank. With a flutter of his leather coat he hoped over one of the low stone walls and into a pear orchard. In the distance the lights of the manor blazed. He was going to be late but then if they wanted him on time they shouldn't have set the bloody meeting on Boxing Day.

Even without leaves, the closely packed pear trees acted as an impediment to the snow and he made much better time. The owls hooted as he trudged down the row, large duffel swung over his right shoulder. The bag wasn't that heavy, containing only a few changes of clothes and a worn but well cared for lee-enfield rifle. In his life time Jack had won and lost more than one fortunes on goldfields and gaming tables, but he never felt he needed much more than a pair of boots and a hat to keep the sun, or snow, off his head.

"Broad is his stroke and his hands move quick," he muttered as he vaulted another wall to enter the manor grounds proper. Even with its coating of snow the expensive landscaping was obvious. The English were bloody crazy for gardening and manicuring every tree it seemed to him. He circled the big house and passed a potting shed and some other out building, he dimly remembered it being described as a carriage house, to reach a rear door. He knocked firmly on the oaken pannel and swore caustically as his bruised knuckles protested the action.

It took a minute or two but eventually the door creaked open and a timid looking woman peered out at him, backlit by the light of several electric lamps.

"Jack is that you?" called a lilting irish accent.

"Aye Molly, mind if I come in?" he replied, belatedly sweeping his slouch hat of his head respectfully. The door swung fully open and a plump matronly woman ushered him in. Molly Fisher was in her late thirties. She had been an aurburn haired beauty when she was younger, but years ruling Lord Cornack's kitchen with an iron fist had swathed her in a comfortable layer of fat. Jack tipped her a wink and pinched her rump as he passed, eliciting a decidedly girlish giggle.

"You are impossible!" she giggled before her eyes fully took him in and she grew serious.

"You've been fighting, are you hurt?" she asked, reaching gingerly up to touch the bruise on the side of his face.

"Ah Molly I've gotten worse falling out of bed," he protested.

"You're not drunk are you, Lord Cornack won't be too pleased if..."

"Peace woman, I'm not drunk, no more than usual anyway," he assured her as she led him into a small washroom and sat him down on a bench. She took a basin of cold water and began to wipe the caked blood from his face with a coarse cloth. Head wounds always bled like the devil, even if they didn't do any real damage.

"You had best run and get the Colonel for me Molly, I had a visit from some Germanic friends at the Speckled Hen," Jack told her seriously. He didn't know what interest the strange men had in Cormack's expedition but he had better let the old man know before things went any further.

"I think M'lord is about to attend the gathering in the main hall," Molly explained. Anything Molly said about the workings of the great house could be taken as gospel. She had an almost preternatural knowledge of every detail of her domain as Jack had discovered during previous attempts to penetrate the Colonels liquor cabinet.

"I suppose I can meat him there then," Jack replied wincing away from a particularly energetic swipe of the cloth. Molly looked up at him in alarm, her eyes roving over his battered khaki shirt and trousers and his snow covered combat boots and leather cloak.

"In that?" she asked in obvious horror. Jack settled his hat back onto his head and his face split into a grin that took a decade off his apparent age.

"Sorry Darlin' left my suit in me other swag."

The company poured in like Apollo's light. The lovely foreign woman in the blue dress was the first to show up, and he began to speak with her for a moment in his usual easy going manner. "Seems so." He said. "At first I thought I must have arrived at the wrong place. But then again I suppose Lord Cornack's manor is large enough to host high class parties as well." He said, referring to her having dressed beautifully with a bit of wit.

And after that, the guests arrived in quick succession. It began to look as if he was the odd man out, as the rugged frankish trapper and the raven haired vixen seemed to know either one another or the Indian woman. Alcander would get to know them eventually, of course. He was confident the Baron would announce him to the others, as he and the man funding the expedition were acquaintances. But he decided to remain tentative for a moment as they greeted and mingled. He had been gone from England longer than he had thought, realizing he was not very familiar with the local scholarly groupings.

That is, until Elle made her way in and he gave her a friendly smile and a nod, showing how pleased he was to see her. She approached the attractive and elegantly dressed woman who sat quite close to Alcander, someone Elle apparently knew. Alcander was not one for small talk as Elle already was aware of. He often had a calm but competent vibe about him unless given reason to share his passions. But it would do well to be at least cordial.

"This is certainly more comfortable than the desks in the lecturing hall." He said aloud, reaching for his fine glass of mead and taking a sip. "But being a Kalos Kagathos, I suppose this will do." His tone was obviously playful, if his grin didn't betray the sentiment. He did not know Lys profession or interests, but Elle would understand his meaning. Kalos Kagathos referred to the ancient Greek ideals of aristocracy, referring to themselves as the 'good and the beautiful.'

Lysandra swivelled her head towards the sound of Elle's voice. She recieved the greeting with a sardonic smile and shot back, "Tiens, tiens Elle, what a delicious surprise. Looks like we will be working together on this trip. That is what you are here for... right?" As she finished her sentence, Lady von Brennenburg crossed her legs and fully turned her whole body in the direction of Lucian and Countess Pelham.

Elle chuckled at Lysandra's snarky quip. This was how the two usually communicated with each other. But Elle was positive there was passion behind Lys' cold remarks to her. So instead of getting offended El's grin grew even bigger. "Oh, you know me, Lys. If work is not fun, it's just hard labor." El wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Of course by the time her sentence was out of her mouth Lysandra had already given El her back and had remained oblivious to the eyebrow wiggle. The Countess chuckled again and shaking her head turned to Alcander. "So Al... Two archeology experts in the house. What do you suppose the Baron has planned for us?" Elle's whole essence was still irradiating jolly vibes all around.

For his part, Lucian regarded Lysandra with perplexed interest; there was something exceedingly familiar about the woman, even though he did not readily recogonize her. Perhaps staring for too long behind cool, attentive eyes, Lucian thought he might have connected the dots as he wrestled with his memory and tried to reconcile the face to something from his past. At last, it hit him. From several years back, and prior to his departure from her father's company, Lucian thought he'd figured out why Lysandra was so familiar. "Begging your pardon, maddam, but I believe we've met before. You are Herr Von Brennenburg's daughter, correct? It has been some time; I did not recognize you, I'm ashamed to admit."

Alcander should have guessed the attractive woman, Lys, would be a known figure. She seemed an (albeit cold) socialite, much like the Indian woman. He turned to his aquaintence Elle. While they didn't socialize in the same circles, he always enjoyed being around her. "I'm curious on that as well. He called me a few weeks ago and told me about a venture or project he looked to set forth, but the Baron did not seem fit to provide details." He glanced to the others that awaited Lord Cornack. "I have a feeling everyone here has a certain set of skills."

The two women seemed to recognize one another, their interactions actually quite amusing. Lakshmi almost forgot to return Lucian's greeting, though that admittedly went out the window as she figured that each of them at least knew one another. Sort of. Though while it looked like some were better known, she pondered how she fit into this group. At Alcander's hunch, she wasn't quite sure. Well, looks were decieving, but he seemed to be getting at something more. "Skills such as...?" She ended up asking outloud.

A smile crept on to Lysandra's face as Lucian seemed to recognise her. She nodded and spoke proudly, "I am indeed Konrad von Brennenburg's daughter. It is so good to see you, Lucian. My father sends you his warmest regards... and this." Lysandra smiled and slid the envelope towards Lucian. It was lettered in a familiar handwriting with Lucian's full name on it, and sealed with the wax seal of the estate of Brennenburg. Lys turned back to address the full table. "If Lucian is here and Elle as well, that must mean this is an expedition of some sort,
yes? My father told me little of what my purpose here was."

The Frenchman took the envelope, something that felt like it was far more ornate and expensive than it needed to be, with a respectful bow of his head. He'd open it when he had a moment to himself, he decided, as he cautiously angled it like it were a piece of cutlery to the left of his person. "Merci, Lysandra, the feeling is mutual. It warms my heart to see you in good health. If I do not see your father in a timely manner, please offer him my warmest regards." He said, turning his attention to the meeting as well. "Given the decour and my profession as a hunter and a colonial Africa guide, I can only presume that this proposition will take us there, [/I]non?[/I]"

---

The conversation was interrupted by an incessant tapping upon the floor. Once, twice, thrice...slowly but surely. Alcander's smile at the current conversation disappeared, replaced by a far more warm smile at who he knew must be making his way down the stairs.

Baron Thomas Cornack moved more leisurely than his age warranted due to a recent anomaly in the medical field called polio. Passed that, he was a stately man in his mid sixties, aging but with a fire to him that could not be doused without a hell of a good scrap. His grey mane was styled fashionably, and his beard and mustache was well groomed. The Baron seemed fiercely pleased at the group that had already begun to mingle.

"Ah, I see you've all become quite comfortable with one another already. Good. It saves me the time of having to stall rivalries or bets. Trust me, if you choose to play ball with what I have in store, you'll need everyone's full cooperation and support." The old Lord gave a chuckle, pointing toward Al. "I haven't even told young Alcander here what it is, yet."

"I'm still eager." the archaeologist replied in good humor.

"Ha! I'm sure you all are, my boy." He said, giving a wink. "But let me tell you this won't be like any of the cake walks you've been on before. In fact, it will change the course of human understanding." Despite the sarcasm and humor, the tone in the room sobered up quickly as he paused, weighing them. "I'm sure many of you have heard of the Bantu people. I know mister DuBois has." The Baron gave Lucian a nod in acknowledgement. "However, their culture, customs, their mythology and religion. It remains largely a mystery in this part of the world. Which is odd, because any real amount of research will show you something very curious."

Cornack limped over to the table, and he placed his hand on the top to steady himself. With his free hand, he lifted the cane and tapped the globe, right along the center of Africa. "The fact that their religion coincides with nearly every basic aspect of the Abrahamic faith we have all come to accept as the western tradition..." he stated. "Monotheistic. Life after death...sending punishments with plagues of locusts. Man was made from a reed among water, just as how Moses was found. My brother spent his life delving into old books and tomes. Searching for the secrets of humanity's beginnings. It wasn't until it was too late that I realized what he had found. The thing he gave his life to find."

The Baron set his cane down, and reached for his glasses and blew on them. "Ladies and Gentleman..." He began. With the hem of his shirt, he wiped the lenses. "The Garden of Eden could never be found in Isreal, because it was never there. It's in the Congo...and you're going to find it."

The what and the who now?

Slowly blinking, Lakshmi did her damnest to pay attention. The man matched the name well, though she was temporarily distracted by the way he moved. Lord Cormack was fascinating, an air about him that without saying a word made his adventures and experience known. The way he carried himself was admirable, although something seemed just a bit off. Observing his movements for a moment, he reminded her of one of her recent patients. Was he afflicted as well? It was likely, though it would be rude to comment on it, so she tried to pay no mind to it and instead pay attention more to his words.

Or at least, she tried, but much of it flew over her head. It wasn't the unfamiliarity so much as genuinely having absolutely no idea what he spoke of. Maybe she should have done her homework on Cormack, but it was too late for that. The rest of the room seemed attentive, and she tried to keep up. What seemed to alarm her was that apparently the group had experience in these treks. Shoot, the most exciting expenditure she had ever gone through had to do with fact more than myth (hard to make climbing a mountain more mystical than it really was), and for a moment she was highly unsure. Now that she stopped to think about it, she suddenly felt very out of place.

Lakshmi figured she should say something. Questions were more than likely to be welcomed, right? Except Lord Cormack also mentioned teamwork. So if she did say something, she was likely to make a bad first impression. Well, she was sure she would be fine with Lucian--the two have been acquainted for some time already--but everyone else was...Hm, she was overthinking this. Maybe. Probably. Or not? Teetering on indecision much longer than she would have liked, her lips were parted slightly, and eventually she ended up deciding that yes, she should speak.

Too bad she didn't know what she was going to say. "Find--find what where?" The words had slipped out before she could stop herself. "The Congo is massive, isn't it? And we are to find something people only think exist?"

Well, that was unexpected.

Lucian regarded the glass of wine before him in concentration as he mulled over the purpose of the trip to the manor. Garden of Eden, was it? He wasn’t a very religious man and he took many of the biblical tales with a large grain of salt, so he doubted something like the Garden of Eden was even a historical place. Lucian had always taken it to be metaphorical or a cautionary tale, kind of like the Grimms’ fairy tales. Finding the Garden was about as likely as finding the gingerbread house Hansel and Gretel encountered somewhere in the Black Forest; exceedingly unlikely.

Still, it was easy to chalk up an expedition such as this as a final flight of fancy for an elderly rich man, and they were quite prone to spending their fortunes in their twilight years chasing fables because wealth followed no man to the grave and how else were you going to find out if you were right or not? Lucian didn’t begrudge Baron Cornack his tale and peculiar ambition, quite the opposite; it was good of him to decide to do something to learn the truth of his suspicions rather than stew on it until his heart gave out. Many men let dreams die with them, and even if most of those dreams would prove to be false, Lucian admired commitment to confront lingering doubt. The Baron, however, had an appealing and undeniable sense of assurance that Lucian didn’t see in a lot of men chasing such pursuits. Perhaps there was some evidence that prompted this expedition’s founding?

Lakshmi, always a voice of reason and well-founded skepticism, spoke her doubts, particularly that the Congo, and indeed all of Africa, was far too vast of a land to waste exploring if you did not have a goal and a very well planned supply list; the Congo was several times the size of the entirety of the United Kingdom alone. Even if they didn’t find what the Baron hoped to find, Lucian had to keep his ambition in line with reality. Too many rich idiots thought they could go for days with only a canteen and some binoculars, a truth Lucian only knew too well.

“I consent to the use of my services on a few, I feel, agreeable conditions. First is that my expenses are paid upfront; I do not operate at a loss and it takes considerable time and resources to prepare for an expedition of this scale. Second, when it comes to surviving in the African brush, my word is law. If I say not to do something or that we cannot press forward, then that is that. It is my duty to bring the same number of people out of the jungle as I have brought in, d’accord? And finally third, I wish to review the documents of this expedition prior to my agreement so I can determine if the proposal is agreeable. With all due respect, we do not have a history, and it humbles me that you feel that I am worthy of your patronage, but I feel it would help me understand the man who has extended such an offer if I could see what is expected prior to agreeing to it.”

Elle's excitement grew more and more with every word that fell out of the Baron's mouth. Her cheeky grin grew wider and wider until her whole face was one huge, goofy smile. Her heart beat a mile a minute and her eyes shone with the prospect of a new adventure. Finding the Garden of Eden was a dream of every archeologist out there. Of course the more academic ones would deny it if asked directly, dismissing it as a 'wild goose chase'. But, fortunately, Countess Pelham was a wild card of an archeologist at best and even considered a pseudo-archeologist and a quack at worst. So the prospect of this expedition was right up her alley. Still, even a rogue archeologist and anthropologist as her would not be worth her salt if she didn't ask the pertinent questions.

"Pardon me, Baron." Elle spoke out. "Although I do share your excitement, because what archeologist or scientist in this sphere doesn't want to prove the Garden of Eden is real and not myth or a pretty Biblical metaphor, but what factual evidence you have to back this claim that it is in the Congo?" El was curious to find out why the Baron claimed the Garden was in Africa. Israel aside, from what she knew of the research done, the Fertile Crescent was a more likely location for it. Africa was cited as a possible location for the Garden in a few theories, but the claim appeared to be weaker than that of ancient Mesopotamia.

El paused and shifted her gaze to Al. "I'm sure you wouldn't summon all of us here without any solid leads. Although I also would assume it's why me and Al are here. So, tell us, Baron. What is it that makes you so certain the Garden is in the Congo?"

Lysandra tsk-tsked in half-curiosity and half-disbelief. The Garden of Eden? In the Congo? Well, she supposed stranger things could happen. Still, it seemed... out there. For now, Lys kept her mouth shut and listened to the lively discussion erupting around her. Though she was educated in history, biblical history and theology were absolutely not her strong suit, and she knew when to let others do the talking. One woman (Lakshmi seemed to be her name) brought up the fact that the Congo was huge and that we would have no idea where to start. An astute observation. Roaming the Congo with no direction was a surefire way to end up dead or in some colonial labour camp. Though there was Lucian, of course. From what Lysandra remembered about him, he had extensive experience in Africa. Indeed, he voiced his concerns as well as his terms and conditions if the Baron was to truly want him on this expedition. Seemed a fair deal. Only sorting the serious patrons from the flights of fancy.

For Lysandra it was slightly different. She did share her companions' doubts but since her father had sent her here, it was all but set in stone that she would be going on this trip. Konrad had told her that this trip meant a lot to the aging Baron and that she was to make sure it would succeed. Not much room for interpretation there. Lys sighed a small sigh and looked around as Elle started to speak, as chipper as ever.

She did raise a good point. All theories she had ever heard placed the Garden in Mesopotamia, between the Tigris and the Euphrates. After all it was known as the 'Cradle of Civilization' for a reason. Still, the Baron must have some ace up his sleeve, some as-of-yet-unseen evidence that opens up this new theory. Otherwise why would he have gathered all of us here? But what could it be? Lysandra mentally pored over what precious little she knew of the Baron Carnack, and what her father had told him. Unfortunately, she came up just as lost as when she walked into the manor. Lysandra would have to wait for the answer to come from the man himself.

"Don't worry, Miss Datta. We have maps and routes. My brother pinpointed the general location from his research," he assured her, and then turned to the tracker.

"I appreciate your taking this seriously mister DuBois, however I hired you to guide, not to lead." Baron Cormack said, pointing his cane at the Frenchman. "It is not up to me for what the others in this room do. It is up to them. You might not know, but a few of your peers here have braved wars and conditions you would be quite familiar with, and I daresay by the end of this expedition, you'll face a few things even you don't expect in the jungles." The Baron's last words ended in a rough cough, and soon he was nearly bent over before Alcander took the initiative and came to his aid, keeping him upright.

"But we'd be foolish to not listen to someone experienced in that region, yes?" Alcander reminded the aging Baron, of which he nodded and collected himself. "Yes, of course, of course. It's why I'm hiring him." He chided Alcander, though he patted the archaeologist's hand in thanks, indicating he could take a seat once more. "As for your pay, you will get half upfront. But I assure you it will be immensely more than a usual assignment you would procure on your own. I do not know all of you well, so I do not know if I can trust you with all of the money. However, I know you well enough that you'll earnestly search for the City of Life if you believe it is there. So if you return empty handed, you'll still receive the next half of your payment." With that, he called to his attendant. "Bertram!"

The attendant marched off for a moment towards the back end of the room, grabbing a small crate. "As for your third condition, Mister DuBois, it seems like a condition many of the learned people here share. And allow me to tell you that to recite all of the proof would take hours, but allow me to demonstrate a few pieces of information to you skeptics..."

Bertram placed the crate down, and unlatched it. The butler reached inside with both of his hands, and produced what looked to be a stone tablet with a language on it that Alcander, and perhaps a few others would recognize as Aramaic. Gingerly, he placed the tablet on the table. "This was found by my brother in Israel. I will give you a chance to read it, of course. But it provides a bit of clarity to the old biblical theories of the Garden being connected to the Tigris and the Euphrates. Ay, Alcander?"

The young man was rendered speechless as he read the text, and he gripped the tablet, running his thumb over it to make sure it was an authentic piece. The elder decided to speak for him, knowing Alcander would confirm. "You see, the bible does not state how long the Garden held Adam and Eve. Indeed the Garden did occupy a space very close to the levant...One hundred and seventy five million years ago." A hush fell over the room. "But when the continents split, the rivers and the fertile crescent moved...The Garden did not. Adam and Eve, before their sin, were endless in life from what the tablet says. They built a city, and humanity grew from their origins in Africa."

Alcander shook his head, not out of disagreement but out of disbelief. "Why is this not in the Bloomsbury Museum?" Alcander asked. The Baron gave a chuckle. "You think I would let someone else handle this? I'll donate it as soon as we're done, but that proved invaluable in my research. As did this..."

Bertam then produced what looked to be the skull of a strange turtle, only it was nearly the size of Bertram's chest. With a grunt, he placed it onto the table. "Can anyone tell me," the Baron began, trying to keep a new coughing fit at bay. "-what this is?" He began to cough louder, and Bertram retrieved a drink for him. "It's a Sauropod, or what the locals call "Mokele M'bembe," he said after a moment and a sip of water. "Found in the Congo by an expedition team back in 1907. But as you all know, the beasts we called Dinosaurs died sixty five million years ago."

"So, how old is this?" Alcander asked.

"Fifty years old."

Alcander hesitated, and then inspected the Skull. The Baron did not smirk or grin, but watched on with interest as Alcander performed a small once over of the bones. There was a large hole in the skull between the eyes and the mouth, where the airsacs of the strange and ancient beast would be located, with its nostrils at the top of its skull. "The Bantu City of life reputedly protects itself with beasts of ages long past." The Baron explained, and Alcander finished his inspection. Elle and perhaps Lysandra would be able to vouche for what the archaeologist said next.

"There's no traces of sediment or rock markings. Give or take a year... he's right."

Elle approached Al. Even though she was just as excited like him and the Baron at the prospect of discovering evidence of still living in this day and age dinosaurs, she couldn't help but feel the pang of skepticism. Too many people out there tried to create a sensation claiming they've discovered the bones of non-prehistoric dinosaurs by submitting falsified evidence. And people call me a phony! El groused in her mind.

"Come on, Al. You know better than this." Elle put an arm on the younger man's shoulder and squared the Baron with an unwavering and uncharacteristically serious gaze. "With all due respect, Baron, but I have to play Devil's advocate here." She pointed at the skull in Al's hands. "I've seen way too many good knock offs from people trying to make a quick buck, banking on the sensation it would cause to discover non-prehistoric dinosaur bones. If you don't mind. Who authenticated this for you?" El patted her young colleague on the shoulder and detached herself from him. "Me and Al here know all too well that when it comes to dating things in the archeology world, it's mostly a guessing game. Even if our guesses are what you might call educated."

The serious tone left Elle's eyes as suddenly as it appeared. "That said!" The Countess grinned. "I'm more than excited to find out if this Mokele M'bembe of yours is the real McCoy. But quack though I may be called, I still need to follow the scientific methods of my field when authenticating artefacts and corroborating theories." She clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So tell me, what else do you got?!"

What a way to spend the day after Christmas, being driven from Cambridge to Derbyshire in snowy conditions. She was cold. Even with the layers of her mother’s furs, she felt the bite of the English winter. She was running late - the letter had instructed to be there in time for dinner, and already it was 9pm. The thought of dinner perked her up just a little, but she supposed that there would be nothing but the scraps left. She gripped the envelope in her hand, it was crumpled and a little crispy around the corners from having gotten damp from a few sploshes of tea here and there.

All she could hope for at this point would be a roaring fire to sit beside and get warmed up. She had been an assistant to Professor O’Connell for some time now, but this was the first time she had been asked to courier something. On Boxing Day no less. At least she assumed it was a pick-up. It couldn’t just be a pick up, she had been instructed to pack some practical clothing too. Whatever it was, Professor O’Connell had not thought it important enough for him to attend. She hadn’t actually read the letter. Maybe she should, maybe she still had time! What if this was all a big prank? Would her Professor really do that? It seemed rather elaborate...

Finally, she felt the car turn off and noticed the familiar feeling of driving on gravel, and she heard it too, that recognisable gritty drag. She pressed her face to the window and got her first glimpse of the Baron’s manor, she had made it. 9:05pm, only an hour or so late. She could make out the figure of someone in the doorway as she climbed out of the car, she fumbled around in her purse looking for something, the letter still in her hand, pressed against the velvet of her purse, as she continued to rummage through, a brisk breeze caught her by surprise, and so the letter floated away on it without her realising. The driver in the front seat coughed to get the girl’s attention, motioning to the door which she had left open, at his request, she bent backwards swiftly and closed the door with her bottom, hands still deep in the lining of her bag. He shook his head, chuckled, and got out of the car himself to grab Florence’s suitcase from the boot of the car, walking it up to the door of the Manor.

“Fiddlesticks, where did I put those things…” she muttered to herself as she started to walk towards the entrance, the cold air starting to get to her. She felt a presence before her, and then heard a voice; “well, Professor O’Connell, you’re not quite what I was expecting..” there was a light humour in the tone, that cause Florence to laugh and pull her head towards him, and out of her bag. “I’m his assistant sir, he sent me down here to attend for him” the Butler noticed that the young woman was missing something, as he had watched her quizzically searching her things for the last minute or so. “Well in that case then, may I help you to locate something, Ma’am?”

“I can’t find my glasses, and I can’t really see all too well without them, I swear they were in my bag…” she said in a puzzled tone and in a way similar to the driver, the Butler cleared his throat for her attention, he made a motion to her chest. She placed her hands where he was pointing, finding her glasses on their chain. “Oh, how silly of me of course!” she put the glasses on and was finally able to make out the details of the Manor, and of the Butler. She could hear talking from somewhere, just faintly.

“I’m sorry that I’m late, and I hope you’ll accept me here in place of the Professor, I mean, I hope that the Baron will find it acceptable.”



The Butler led her inside, immediately she felt the warmth and it flowed through her like relief. The voices got louder until they arrived at a closed door, the Butler gave a short knock and led her in, well, she could see that quite the party was happening in what appeared to be a banquet hall of some kind. She gasped as she took it all in, before realising that the entire room had grown foggy. Oh no she thought to herself, once again, a tad embarrassed by herself.

Her glasses had steamed up.

The Butler spoke, and had she been able to see, she would have noticed that he was grinning in the direction of the Baron and his guests; “This young woman has been sent by Professor O’Connell my Lord-”

“F-F-Florence Montgomery, I’m Florence Montgomery!” she said softly to the Butler so that only he could hear, her glasses off as she rubbed the lenses free of fog with a handkerchief.

“My Lord, this young woman is Florence Montgomery, the assistant of Professor O’Connell. She has been sent in his place.” The Butler was still grinning, and he excused himself, closing the door behind him. When Florence moved to step forwards again into the room, glasses back on, she found that her skirt had been closed in the door, and so her step forwards only jolted her back.

It can’t get any worse, can it? she thought to herself, feeling her cheeks flush red, and sadly not from the warmth - but from the complete discomposure of it all.

Lucian nodded in recognition. “Of course, Baron, I would not presume to be the one to be leading the expedition, only that if the ones leading wish to take the expedition through sacred Luba tribelands, swimming across hippo infested waters, or generally somewhere that would certainly lead to needless injuries or fatalities, I will be interjecting. To be clear, I am fully committed to the success of an expedition, but I am also committed to preserving the lives of those under my watch. Other than that, everything else that has been outlined is certainly agreeable. I am at your service.” He declared, lifting his glass in a salute to Alcander, who seemed to be quite adept at thoughtful interjections.

When the tablet came out, Lucian only spared it a cursory glance. He was not in the habit of pretending to know things when he did not, and languages that he was unfamiliar with were well outside of his expertise. He simply had to trust that one of the others could vouch for it. The skull, however, was quite another story. Without asking permission, Lucian rose up to stand alongside Alcander and Elle in inspecting the skull; he’d brought down most everything that walked in Africa, and outside of the great bears of the North and the Rocky Mountains, Africa had by far the largest animals to walk the present day Earth. He studied the skull, running his fingers along the bone and inspecting the entry-wound. If this was a fabricated remain, it was damned convincing. He’d simply killed too many animals not to be familiar with what bone was supposed to be like; the only thing that gave him pause was the scale of the thing and its very foreign visage; it looked to be a hybrid between a reptile and a bird. Nothing like that existed.

The Frenchman was a skeptic at heart, and he knew dinosaurs couldn’t possibly still exist. Still, a part of him grew excited by this revelation. He’d heard “Mokele M'bembe” spoken by tribesmen, but he’d never quite understood the meaning. He’d always thought it was one of their gods or revered historical figures. If what the Baron said was true, this was truly something incredible. Every fiber of his being screamed that what he was being told was absolute horseshit, but he’d signed up to guide expeditions that were ultimately pointless and in search for equally preposterous goals, but Lucian wasn’t paid to question the motives. He was simply there to do his job and keep people alive.

A childish part of him hoped, deep down, that the dinosaur part was real, despite all of his reservations. He listened to Elle’s protests of how it might be fake, and she could very well be right. However, his gut was telling him otherwise. Fossils were a different beast than bone, since the organic matter of a fossil had been transformed into stone over the epochs, bone was a much harder thing to fake convincingly, and this was no rock.

Suddenly, the same butler that had permitted Lucian to enter announced new arrival. A mousey, albeit pretty, young woman who looked positively bewildered to be here, perhaps flustered by her tardy arrival. Her cheeks were as red as Christmas bulbs, and it seemed to be that she’d had enough embarrassment for one day. “Welcome, Mademoiselle Montgomery. Fret not, we had just gotten started. It may be cold outside here, but it is plenty warm in the Congo. Please, join us.” He said, returning his attention to the skull.

It was a skull. Apparently, an important skull, since it proved something or another. There was a bit of difficulty following the ongoing conversation, but it seemed to be a great item of interest. Her eyes laid on it, though she made little effort to join the conversation. Truthfully, she disliked speaking when she had little knowledge of the topic at hand, preferring to simply listen and learn. The fact that it was verified by Lucian did peak her interest for a moment. Not that she distrusted Alcander or the Countess, but the familiarity was what directed her judgment. The trio certainly seemed excited, or at least, they had seemed convinced. Well, it was good to know that it was something to go by, that the trip to the Congo wouldn't entirely be a wild goose chase.

As Lucian raised his glass, Lakshmi found the corners of her lips curving once he spoke. It was good to know he hadn't changed much since their last encounter, and admittedly it swayed her skeptical self. She'd keep her wits about her, but at the very least there was adventure to be had. And that was what she cared about--the knowledge, the relics, the treasurers, they were second to the trials and tribulations they would come across in her mind.

Speaking of tribulations, the entrance of yet another potential trekker stumbled on in. She had been cleaning her glasses; it seemed she couldn't see too well without them. Of course, this probably meant that she was the type to frequently lose them. Poor thing, she seemed plenty nervous as she introduced herself, and Lakshmi found herself feeling awfully protective of this stranger. Which was odd, considering they were probably the same age, but still.

Florence took a step forward and immediately jolted back. Lakshmi raised her eyebrows slowly, more out of concern than anything. Clearing her throat slightly, she tried to help...sort of.

"I believe your skirt has...well, the door has it, I'm afraid," The Indian woman said, pointing to the door.

Lysandra kept her characteristic cool and remained tight-lipped, preferring to let the others vocalise her thoughts to save herself the breath. She was careful not to let her internal excitement break the icy mask that her expression gave her. If what the Baron claimed was true... This could change everything. IF it was true. Lys let her well maintained and painted nails rap on the table in a calculated gesture meant to show that her time was something that could not be wasted. She had no intention of leaving of course, her father had sent her here as a personal gesture of friendship to the Baron, something that Lysandra could not so easily ignore. Regardless, she watched the servant retrieve a crate and place a tablet on the table. Immediately, Elle leapt to her feet and rushed over to it and the younger man. That was just like her. Still, Lys couldn't help but peer over at the tablet as well. It was in Aramaic, at least from what she remembered of her ancient languages, though she couldn't claim to read it very well.

Lysandra mumbled something in German under her breath and sat down. Her cursory glance at the text seemed to agree with what the Baron had claimed. The servant then removed a large skull and placed it on the table. It seemed to be a dinosaur skull, though it looked curiously well preserved if that was the case. Indeed, the Baron confirmed it was a Sauropod skull. However he also said it was a mere fifty years old. Fifty?! That recently? How? Interrupting her thoughts, Lysandra heard the door open and the Butler that had escorted each of them in cleared his throat. He introduced another woman, and Lys glanced over and flashed her least venomous smile, doing her best to make the visibly-nervous newcomer feel a bit less left out in the cold, figuratively and literally.

Back to the skull. Lysandra stood up and strut her way over to skull. Most of her archaeology experience was practical, but still everything seemed to appear legitimate. Plaster bones were fairly easy to tell apart, especially if you had any experience dealing with the real things. The harder fakes were ones comprised of sets of real bones grafted together, or placed in a grave together. However, this was one piece. One very real piece. Lysandra tapped her chin.

"So, we are not only going to find the Garden, but also perhaps... living dinosaurs?"