Chapter Two: Nox Ad Museum
Sunday, the 13th of October, 1889.
Luxor's bazaar swayed in the desert winds at ten in the morning. A sandal-wearing woman strode towards the antiques dealer, garbed in a purple kalasiris and matching hooded cloak.
"Good morning, madam. How can I help you?"
The woman held out her pale right hand, which had six ancient necklaces clasped within it.
"I need to barter these for enough funds to get to London."
The merchant took the pieces from her and examined them, and realised that only two of the necklaces were needed for the task.
"Madam, you will only need to sell the two least of these to achieve that. One for the boat fares, the other for food and accommodation while you're there."
The woman nodded, handing the merchant the two least sentimental necklaces. He counted out the assorted money she needed, and handed it all over.
"There's 40 Egyptian pounds for a boat to Alexandria, 70 English pounds for the boat to London, and 50 more English pounds for expenses. The next boat to Alexandria leaves in half an hour, and it will take four days to head there. Afterwards, seek out the docks and find a boat that will take you to London. Safe travels and good luck, madam."
A pair of red eyes looked up at the merchant. "My thanks, sir."
As the albino walked towards the Luxor docks with her newly-gained fortune in hand, she spotted a younger local boy walking towards her with an apprehensive expression.
"Excuse me, are you seeking the one who has the Eye of Ra?"
The albino froze, then glared at him.
"How do you know of this, stranger?"
"I spotted a strangely-dressed woman with a golden shield boarding a ship six days ago. I tried to stow away, but I was thrown off before they left. Two days later, another strangely-dressed woman came up to the docks and asked if anyone had seen a golden shield. I told her I had, and she said it was the Eye of Ra. She then asked me to tell a white-skinned woman with red eyes where the Eye is going."
That grabbed the albino's attention.
"Fortune has truly blessed me. Where is the traitor placing it?"
"A place called 'Exham Museum'."
The albino's expression shifted from neutral to downright bestial. She damned well knew who else had gone there.
"Thank you," was her low-voiced reply as she walked towards the boat.
Saturday, the 19th of October, 1889.
A cool night greeted Pyrrha as her dirigible arrived in London. Flying over the Thames with a light shower permeating the air, Pyrrha couldn't help but notice something out of the ordinary as she flew past Rotherhithe on the way to Croydon Airport. Another dirigible seemed to have crashed violently into the Thames.
"Well," Pyrrha said to herself, "I'll hear all about that in the Sunday papers."
And hear about it, she did. "Phantom Gentleman Caught! Society Figure Arrested by Scotland Yard as Notorious Thief!", read the headline on the Daily Standard the next morning. Pyrrha, having awoken at seven, ran off to fetch the Standard from the vendor near her townhouse in Kensington. As she walked back onto her street, she found a familiar face walking towards her home in a more conservative outfit. She ran to her at full sprint and enthusiastically greeted her.
"Coco! It's so good you see you again!"
Pyrrha's French neighbour and housekeeper turned around with a smile on her face, and hugged her.
"Pyrrha, it's been far too long. How have you been, huh?"
Pyrrha smiled; seeing her closest friend after three months in the wilderness had put a spring in her step, and she responded as they walked into her house.
"I've been quite well, Coco. How about yourself – is that an engagement ring?!"
The Parisian beamed at her.
"Of course, cher. Fox proposed to me almost a month ago."
After taking this in, Pyrrha smirked at her.
"You sly devil, Coco! Marrying my accountant so he can help you escape your class and my employ?! I approve whole-heartedly!"
Coco laughed sweetly as Pyrrha took a seat in the dining room. The main reason why the pair had been friends since Coco arrived five years ago was that both of them held little regard for what the aristocratic class considered to be time-honoured and rigid codes of conduct. Though Pyrrha was part of that caste and Coco was set to become one step away from it, they found solace in sending up every contrived and snooty part of Victorian society they found to be beneath them. Not that either of them admitted as much to anyone else, of course.
"So how is Fox holding up, Coco?"
Coco's face lit up the room at the mention of her lover's wellbeing.
"He's going swimmingly, actually. His grey-scale vision problem got cured two months ago."
Pyrrha almost fell off her chair in surprise at this.
"How on Earth did that happen, Coco?!"
"One of the bright sparks in the employ of the Schnees was experimenting with using different Dust types to polarise lenses. By sheer happenstance, he found a secret mixture which made the unpolarised lens increase the strength of the colours filtered through it by fourfold. Apparently, when he donned the lenses, they made his vision appear as though he was stuck in a Claude Monet painting."
Pyrrha laughed heartily at this; as much as she loved Impressionist art since the exhibition she visited when holidaying in Paris in 1886, she always felt that Monet's work was inordinately bright for her tastes.
"Surely that wasn't the end of the story, was it?"
Coco chuckled. "Of course it wasn't, cher. As it turned out, the inventor was so amused with what he called 'Impressionist Lenses' that he cajoled a colleague to look through them."
"Let me guess; this colleague also saw things in grey-scale?"
"Indeed he did. The man realised that he could see colours normally with the glasses on, and that's the story."
Pyrrha, ever the avid fan of new technology, was enraptured by this innovation.
"Tell me, are they able to cure colour-blindness of the normal variety now?"
"I believe so, Pyrrha. When Fox last heard from the man who sold him the glasses, he told him the SDC had made prototypes for both the blue-green and red-green deficiencies, although solving the blue-red is said to be more problematic."
"Well," replied Pyrrha as Coco rose to prepare some tea and toast, "it's a step in the right direction."
"Indeed it is, Pyrrha. So how come you had to stay an extra month in the desert?"
"It's a bit of a long story, Coco. You might want to sit down for it."
"OK, cher. I'll sit down to hear it once breakfast is up."
Coco filled and fired up Pyrrha's brand new toaster and kettle. Two more marvels of the Dust trade, they both used filaments lined with crimson Dust powder to heat their respective charges, and the length one wanted to use the toaster for was adjusted with an integrated egg timer. And both of these were powered by the use of a verdant Dust generator, which enabled Pyrrha to power her townhouse's appliances and lights using one verdant crystal a month – meaning that she wasn't reliant on the inefficient crimson Dust plants that powered the masses.
When the toaster ejected four slices of browned wholemeal and the kettle whistled, Pyrrha assisted her cook by bringing out the apricot jam and butter from the pantry, leaving Coco to prepare two cups of Irish breakfast with milk and none. As the bread and tea was divided between the two women, their conversation resumed.
"So Pyrrha, what were you going to say about your longer stay?"
Pyrrha looked to be somewhat puzzled.
"Honestly, I don't know why I had to go to the Valley. After the haul from Imhotep's tomb beneath Saqqara, I was surprised to receive a wire from Exham about visiting the Valley of the Kings and search for a tomb east of Hatshepsut – even though I'd gone there the previous year with Baillet and Bénédite's expedition."
"Was it too much of an inconvenience for you, mon cher?"
"Not really; I'd already planned to go for a cruise along the Nile to Luxor after I was done at Saqqara."
"That's fortunate. Hopefully, your discovery of Tetesheri's tomb wasn't a waste of time?"
Pyrrha smiled again. "Not in the slightest; even though the temple was empty for the most part, the sarcophagus was still there. When I approached it, I located an surprisingly untarnished bronze shield with a sharpened edge resting on top of it. There were hieroglyphs etched on the surface which revealed its name to me – the Eye of Ra. It will make a brilliant addition to the new gallery."
"After that vivid description, it had better be; it sounds shinier than your ego."
The two women exchanged looks, then broke into laughter again.
Tuesday, the 29th of October, 1889.
The Exham Museum of Antiquity was one of the three landmarks that marked the northern boundary of the Regent's Park, filling the gap between the London Zoo and the Winfield House Gardens in that part of London's inner north. At a quarter to seven on a tepid autumn evening, about four-hundred people were gathering at the Museum, coming from many walks of life. It was arguably the biggest night on the year's social calender – at least, after Weiss Schnee's birthday ball on the 11th, and definitely the most inclusive.
Pyrrha had spent most of the preceding week organising and listing her finds throughout the exhibit in Exham's eastern wing, employing a relentless zeal about her task that went unmatched in the museum. After her herculean efforts, what was set to be the crowning moment of her life was finally ready to commence. Presently, Pyrrha was sequestered behind curtains that separated the eastern lobby from the main exhibition. A small glass of brandy took residence in her left hand; it wasn't enough to grant intoxication to Pyrrha, the infamously cheap drunk, but enough to steady the nerves of Doctor Nikos, the archaeologist.
A speedy glimpse from behind the curtains revealed the clientele amongst the crowd. Pyrrha recognised Weiss Schnee, perhaps the wealthiest of the attendees, along with a number of minor nobles who were likely trying to suck up to her throughout the night. She also noticed a number of her Egyptology and archaeology colleagues who'd also joined the Royal Society, which wasn't unexpected. There were plenty of middle-class types present as well, having heard about the find from the papers and opting to come out of curiosity. At the stroke of seven, Pyrrha's assistant walked out to the lectern in the middle of the foyer and called the crowd to order.
"Good evening, London. I'm here to introduce to you the woman of the hour. Over the last three months, she has painstakingly excavated the long-lost tomb of Imhotep in Saqqara, finally providing us here at Exham an opportunity to showcase things which have never been beheld by anyone since they were placed in that tomb. The good doctor has brought us the personal effects and treasures contained within Imhotep's burial chamber, along with kodaks of the various hieroglyphs contained within the walls, and all manner of ancient pottery and weaponry. Give a round of applause for adventurer, scholar and archaeologist extraordinare, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos!"
The curtains drew aside to great applause, and Dr. Pyrrha Nikos strode out in the only piece of formal clothing she'd ever deigned to wear in her workplace; her maroon hunting costume with red accents. This consisted of an ankle-length skirt, a long sleeved jacket which went up to her neck and flared past her hips, as well as her best riding boots and a white shirtwaist. Forgoing a hat, Pyrrha had elected instead to sweep her mane up into a knot, and leave her fringe where it usually framed her face. She completed herself with her favourite pieces of jewellery – a pair of bronze earrings, with small emeralds hanging from both of them.
If Pyrrha wasn't giving the lecture that night, then she'd have likely been laughed out of the museum without a moment's hesitation by the hounds of fine society. However, her reputation and extensive accomplishments were enough to make the well-bred cope with her decided disregard for fashion conventions. As Weiss Schnee remarked to her father later that night, "The good doctor's appearance seemed to strike a balance between her profession and class, I must say. It was perfect for the occasion, but I dare say others would have seen it as ridiculous at any other time."
"Ladies and gentlemen, and fellow members of the Royal Society," Pyrrha began, "it is my greatest pleasure to bid you all welcome to the brand new Egyptian Gallery here at Exham Museum."
The applause was instant, and lasted ten seconds. The lights dimmed as Pyrrha's assistant fired up the overhead projector and loaded in the first of many kodaks for Pyrrha to talk about.
"Where shall I begin … "
Forty-six minutes later, Pyrrha had finished the presentation to a standing ovation. After receiving thanks from her peers, Pyrrha went through the motions of taking adulation from a cordially ignorant crowd. Pyrrha always found it hard to talk shop with those amongst the rich who'd studied classics; they shared some of her knowledge, but they lacked the near-artistic passion that she had for the field of study; consequently, they tended to ask Pyrrha rehashed questions about well-researched topics or say glib statements about the field at large.
Fortunately for them, the well-bred never caught on to Pyrrha's frustration because she, by default, was too polite for her own good. As such, the only genuine displays of passionate admiration that Pyrrha noticed from the gentry outside her profession came from three surprising sources.
Weiss Schnee seemed genuinely interested in the exhibit, which wasn't surprising given her education. What struck Pyrrha about Weiss was that, despite the heiress's interests ostensibly laying in the fields of business and technology, she had genuinely made an effort to listen to her and enquired about the technologies and ideas that helped her achieve what she'd done. After Weiss walked off to take a gander at the exhibit, Pyrrha felt a certain amount of peace come over her from that interaction. That feeling didn't last long, as the other two genuine admirers were even more surprising in their nature.
A dark-red haired girl, no older than nineteen in Pyrrha's eyes, was staring wide-eyed at the ancient scythe down the first passageway on the right, and had indeed started to drool at the simplest weapon of all the gallery when Pyrrha approached. She was dressed in the newest fashion that had been concocted for the elite; a floor-length crimson evening gown which fastened at the back and lacked a bustle, with matching gloves a black fur stole draped over the shoulders for good measure. The young girl looked every inch the perfect airhead, at least in the jade eyes of Dr. Nikos. Then the girl snapped out of it, ran up to Pyrrha in a rush, and started gushing about how cool the exhibit was.
Pyrrha had never heard anyone talk so quickly in her life. In fact, she'd only managed to clearly catch the girl's name: Ruby Rose. Despite her excitability having sped up her speech to comical levels, the young woman's palpable sense of wide-eyed wonder reminded Pyrrha of herself at a younger age, and she smiled and thanked the younger girl for her enthusiasm.
As Ruby scurried off throughout the exhibit, Pyrrha recognised a familiar face gazing at the kodak of Imhotep's sarcophagus; it was the young policeman who managed to bust the Phantom Gentleman the day she arrived back home. As she walked towards him, she noticed his features. The man looked strong in a wiry kind of way, but his face and blonde hair were both quite boyish, which Pyrrha realised she found attra- endearing.
"Inspector Arc?"
The man turned to face her with a slightly startled expression, which instantly shifted to one of happy recognition.
"Oh, er, greetings, Doctor Nikos. That expedition must have been quite the experience, I must say. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Pyrrha smiled slightly as his earnestness tickled her ego.
"Well, I recognised you as the dashing young officer who managed to arrest Roman Torchwick. I hadn't spent a day in London before the press started raving about you, so I just thought I'd greet you in person."
Jaune started smiling bashfully at the floor about halfway through that sentence, and Pyrrha realised too late that the phrase dashing young officer probably gave him a certain idea of what she thought of him. He looked back toward her shyly while he responded.
"Well, I guess my reputation precedes me yet again. Though I must admit, such admiration feels pleasant coming from you, doctor."
To Jaune's eternal surprise, Pyrrha blushed instantly, and managed to look even more bashful than Jaune did half a minute ago. But before the conversation started to get awkward, Ruby appeared out of nowhere next to Jaune. Pyrrha realised that a "diving boot" cast was on Ruby's right foot, and bandages lay beneath the glove on her right arm. What had she done to herself?, Pyrrha wondered.
"Well, I'm ready to head back home whenever you're ready, Jaune."
Jaune turned to face the newcomer with a slightly miffed expression.
"Very well."
Jaune turned his gaze to Pyrrha, smiled warmly and handed her his business card.
"Well, if you've ever got a problem, feel free to call me, Doctor Nikos. Have a pleasant evening!"
"And the same to you, Inspector," Pyrrha replied effusively. As Jaune and his companion walked off, Pyrrha tried to calm down a few notches. Lord Almighty, Pyrrha wondered, I've never felt so worked up around a man before … or around anyone, come to think of it. What the deuce was it about him that got me blushing?
"Hot and bothered, are we?"
Pyrrha relaxed, upon hearing her employer's aristocratic bass voice.
"I assure you that I'm fine, sir."
Turning to make eye contact, Pyrrha beheld her greatest advocate. Dr. Arthur Watts was the head curator at Exham, and Pyrrha's mentor in the archaeology and exploration scene. His expensive black bespoke suit was accented by a yellow dress shirt and cordovan waistcoat, equally luxurious as his moustache. The older doctor smiled, and opted to keep embarrassing his protégé.
"Are you sure, Pyrrha? I mean, it's not everyday you find yourself talking to someone who tickles your fancy."
Pyrrha's flustered expression began to reassert itself, before she managed to resist the bait and regained her composure.
"Well, Arthur, since you're here, would you like to look at something I've yet to reveal to the public?"
The man's right eyebrow raised up.
"An upcoming display no-one else has seen yet?"
Pyrrha shook her head. "Well, no-one aside from my assistant, who saw it just before the presentation."
Watts chuckled. "All right then, but I'd like exclusive access next time."
Pyrrha returned the chuckle as she led Watts into her private office towards the rear of the east wing.
Under usual conditions, Pyrrha's desk was best described as "an organised mess". Especially since she had a habit of cleaning and maintaining Milo on it when she wasn't burdened with cataloguing and suchlike. Today though, the Eye of Ra took pride of place in the middle of the desk, shrouded by a cloth.
"This is something I found from a tomb in the Valley of the Kings after I was finished at Saqqara."
"The Valley of the Kings?!" Watts asked sharply. "Why on Earth did you go there for?"
Pyrrha looked puzzled at this.
"I meant to ask about this when I came back, but I received a wire from you asking me to go there, Arthur. I've got it right here."
She fished out the wire from her desk's left drawer and handed it to Watts.
"Let me see," he said as he put on his glasses. He read it silently for a full minute, and Pyrrha swore that the room was starting to get colder with each passing second. Finally, Watts looked back up at her.
"Well, I know I didn't write or send it, but this is legitimate. Very strange, indeed. Anyway, what did you find in this tomb?"
Pyrrha lifted off the covers, and Watts found himself staring at his reflection in bronze.
"From Tetesheri's tomb, behold: the Eye of Ra!"
The initial reaction Watts gave off was not the one Pyrrha had hoped for. His mouth remembered to smile eagerly, but it didn't extend to his eyes. They had reflexively widened in recognition – but what they were recognising, Pyrrha did not know. Nevertheless, Watts quickly mustered his composure and let his face fall into a warm smile.
"Pyrrha, even though this shield wasn't something we were expecting to get, I'm pleased with your efforts in locating yet another tomb in the Valley and bringing back a priceless artifact. To say naught, of course, of the magnificent work you did with the tomb of Imhotep."
Pyrrha blushed again. "Thanks, Arthur. I'm really glad to have provided for Exham as much as it's provided for me the last five years. I hope I've pleased you."
Watts's expression shifted to one that could be best described as "fatherly pride".
"Pyrrha, ever since your father showed me your scholastic achievements and bragged of your enthusiasm for this field, I've always been pleased with you!" He and Pyrrha hugged each other, then decided to walk outside.
As the pair walked out to the main hall, they both failed to notice a raven-haired woman with a bow around a corner, looking reverently at a magnified kodak of some hieroglyphs from Saqqara. Specifially, the ones which showed the ancient Egyptian practice of worshipping cats. After writing something down in her notebook, she walked around the corner and into a smirking Weiss Schnee.
"Getting ideas on why I should get on my knees for you?"
The dark-haired girl held her nerve in the face of such blatant innuendo, and duly sealed her victory for this round of snark-to-snark combat.
"What can I say; we were clearly born in the wrong century."
Pyrrha awoke at eight the next morning to the smell of Coco cooking bacon and eggs. She walked out of her second-floor bedroom, and shrugged off sleep by means of a hot shower in her bathroom. After drying off, she set her hair with the use her hair-dryer (yet another crimson-Dust appliance), sweeping it back this time and hiding her scalp underneath her brown fedora. Pyrrha then donned her usual work clothes – which consisted of a brown tweed jacket, a matching ankle-length skirt, white dress shirt, and her usual riding boots.
As she moved to the ground floor, Coco was waiting at the dining table with breakfast waiting and the Morning Star in her hand.
"You wouldn't believe it, cher," said Coco as Pyrrha started to eat, "but the Morning Star wrote a glowing piece about you."
"They did?!"
"Yes; the reporter was most praiseworthy of your efforts, likening you to William Flinders Petrie himself."
Pyrrha gasped; the man had practically invented modern archaeology, so being likened to him was quite the compliment.
"May I see the article in question?"
"Sure thing, Pyrrha."
Coco handed Pyrrha the newspaper, and she read silently as she ate.
"It was a curious crowd of archaeologists, socialites and everyday people that attended the opening of Exham Museum's new Egyptian gallery yesterday evening. All in all, four hundred people turned out to marvel at the finds of Exham's star archaeologist, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos. The presentation did not disappoint, with the renowned doctor spending the best part of an hour providing a running commentary on her expedition to the distant city of Saqqara, while it was illustrated with some of her kodaks fed through an overhead projector. The doctor's passion for her work shone through as clearly as daylight, and her efforts were arguably on par with William Flinders Petrie himself. Blake Belladonna, London."
Pyrrha's curious expression changed to surprise.
"Blake Belladonna was there last night? How come that crime-beat writer was reporting on the gallery?"
Coco shrugged. "I don't know; maybe the Police Gazette came empty this week?"
The resultant fit of laughter from Pyrrha was crudely interrupted by the sound of her telephone. Pyrrha rushed over to its place in the parlour on her house's left side.
"Hello, Dr. Pyrrha Nikos speaking … WHAT?!"
A/N: First up, did any Ben Stiller fans in the audience get the chapter title reference? (Update: It was Night At The Museum, for those who were wondering).
Secondly, I couldn't believe my eyes when I learned that the fedora, when first invented in 1882 as a costume piece in a play, was quickly adopted as a symbol for women's rights throughout Europe and America - and all due to the lead actress being a notorious cross-dresser who insisted on wearing it when on stage.
Thirdly, I decided that Pyrrha, given the idea of her being a gender-flipped Indiana Jones (complete with hatred of snakes), shouldn't have much care for social convention. On paper, that would've clashed somewhat with her nice and polite character in-series, so I've opted to go with the idea that Pyrrha does play by the rules when she has to; otherwise, she'll do things her own way.
And last, the soundtrack song I've settled on for this chapter is "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin; a fitting song for a night of story-telling, I'd thought. Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed the chapter.
EDIT: Owing to the review that DezoPenguin left, I decided to clarify Ruby's state at this point in time; here, she's able to walk and move around, but combat won't be on the cards for a while.
