Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the Sceptre of Viriath in stark definition, opalescent gold inlay casting twisted reflections on the rust-coloured rock of the caverns where GLoW made its home. Alther held the artifact lightly, inspecting the fine detail with awe, running her fingers across the polished wood and metal.
“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” said her guide, Emret, softly.
“Incredible,” Alther replied, a little breathlessly. “This is all that’s left of their civilisation? I can’t believe you would threaten this.”
“We never would,” Emret reassured her, meeting her gaze as he took back the Sceptre. Returning it to its containment crate, he elaborated: “GLoW only ever shoots to disable. We don’t want to destroy the treasures ARK is stealing, we just want to return them to the people.”
Alther frowned at this. “But anyone who ever held this Sceptre, the Viriath or whatever… they’re all gone. Right? So who will you return it to?”
“The nearest neighbour who will treat it with the respect it deserves.”
When Alther didn’t immediately answer, Emret looked back into her eyes so that she could see the enthusiasm sparking in his. “Imagine everything this Sceptre survived through! War and peace! The rise and fall of nations! Everyday life on a world we’ll never even know! Surely a fragment of history like that deserves better than to be filed away on some space station, sealed off from the public? Don’t you agree?”
“I… think so,” Alther replied, uncertainty weighing on her words. “What now?”
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