"The thing about a hero, is even when it doesn't look like there's a light at the end of the tunnel, he's going to keep digging, he's going to keep trying to do right and make up for what's gone before, just because that's who he is." -- Joss Whedon

  It took me about three days of concerted effort to push the hallway that far and to extend control of the surface to the edge of the visible ruins. That was when I encountered the first physical remains of a structure – about 2X3 m in surface area, roughly rectangular, and visible mostly as a low mound bracketed by lines of footing stones. It was so basic and familiar, that I felt a brief wave of nostalgia.

  At a guess, a storage structure for the main buildings ahead, or possibly a working area of some sort – an outdoor kitchen or crafting workshop.

  With a little luck, I could make some more informed assessments as I explored its contents. A lot depended on the reasons for its abandonment. If the residents had simply packed up and left, there might not be much left behind except for trash and things too bulky to transport. If they’d been forced to leave in a hurry and not been able to come back, then only the most important things would have been taken. And in a best case (for me)/ worst case (for them) scenario, where death had come upon them in a rapid fashion, everything would still be there, including the remains of the residents. That was exceedingly rare in my old world, but magic (and the presence of a dragon) might alter the odds in dramatic and unpredictable ways.

  I shifted into research mode, my eidetic memory making the need for physical notes a moot point. The dungeon skills and xenoarchaeology skills made excavation and analysis largely trivial. I extended my control over the entire surface area, with an additional 2 meters from each wall and mentally applied a grid structure with elevational data recorded directly from my perception skills starting from roughly 3 meters above ground level (so I could use the same datum for the adjoining structures).

  Initial clearing, traditionally one of the more annoying tasks, took mere moments. Having assimilated the area, I could simply remove the overlying grasses and shrubs directly through matter conversion. Rather than dissolve the roots and potentially collapse portions of the mound, I cut each plant off exactly at ground level – a truly interesting effect. I then registered the position of each individual stone and cultural artifact – there weren’t many as the site seemed undisturbed aside from the action of the roots and a natural freeze/thaw cycle of the soil and one or two rodent burrows of a smaller scale than those of the ground squirrels. The pattern of stones suggested a likely hearth at one end of the structure.

  The few visible artifacts were mostly to be found around the burrows, suggesting they’d been excavated from lower levels by the rodents as they dug their homes. There were a few heavily eroded ceramic sherds and some small bone fragments – all of which I absorbed for analytical purposes. The bones gave me the most information – including three new blueprints and a set of dates.

  Blueprint acquired: Chicken – Domestic – Imperial Red variety

  Blueprint acquired: Sheep – Domestic – Highland Gray variety

  Blueprint acquired: House mouse

  Radiometric Date: 345 years BP +- 40 years

  I assumed the dates relied on C14 dating, as in my old world, and I could only assume that BP stood for Before Present. That was a bit tricky, of course, because the present is constantly moving. In my old world, 0 BP was somewhat arbitrarily set to 1950 AD. Here, I had no idea, but assumed from context that A) radiometric dating wasn’t being used here until I arrived and that, therefore, B) 0 BP was right now. If nothing else, worrying about that wasn’t likely to be an issue for at least a couple of years. I wondered whether the error bar would shrink as my skill level improved – it seemed a reasonable possibility.

  The ceramic sherds matched the one I’d found in the riverbed, suggesting, unsurprisingly, that they came from the same occupational period, which I could now assign at least a loose date to. There wasn’t much to delineate the race or cultural affiliations of the residents yet. I could likely assume they weren’t herbivores, they appeared to be familiar with wheel-thrown pottery, and they probably weren’t much bigger than a normal human being. I couldn’t assume a lower end to the size range, but from the visible ruins I was expecting the residents to be generally human-sized. A quick guess was that this was a food preparation area – a sort of separate kitchen common in areas that got hot in the summers and that lacked modern air conditioning.

  Having documented the surface conditions to my satisfaction, I commenced excavating in tidy five cm levels in 1 m X 1 m blocks. It wasn’t necessary. I was perfectly capable of removing levels from the entire area all at once and in much greater depths without really losing information, but I sort of felt I should establish good practices for anyone who followed my example. The first couple of levels mostly just removed overburden – materials laid down above the final occupation through natural processes – leaf decay, wind-blown soil, etc. The next 50 cm looked like it was mostly generated by the decay of the upper part of the structure – apparently a loose wattle-and-daub affair that had, at some point, burnt down (another reason why kitchens are often kept separate from primary residential structures). That could have been the reason for its abandonment, or it could have happened later, but the building had not been rebuilt. Through this section, I did encounter a few more cultural artifacts – there appeared to be the remains of a small magical lamp crafted in brass around a depleted mana light, that had presumably been hung from the rafters not far from the hearth, as well as the charred leg bones of a pig. I was assuming that was likely a cured ham hanging in the smoke from the hearth; radiometric dating was consistent with the other bones.

  Blueprint acquired - Mana Lamp (imperial style)

  Blueprint acquired – Pig - Domestic - Blackleg variety

  A few centimeters further down, I encountered the first floor – indicated by a poorly preserved layer of plaster over some packed clay. The structure had burned down at some point, and the floor showed signs of that; it appeared the building had still been in use at that point, as the floor included a significant array of jars, mostly smashed but many of which included the burnt remains of cooking ingredients. They were mostly carbonized, but several things included enough genetic material (I assumed) that I could assimilate their blueprints – mostly grains like wheat, barley, and rye but also a few common herbs – ranging from thyme and oregano to mustard and caraway.

  *Sigh. If I only had a mouth, I’d now be able to cook for myself. Oh well, presumably some of my visitors might need to be fed*

  My dungeon instincts tried to kick in with some sarcastic comment about who my visitors should be fed to, but I had enough grasp on my bloodlust to quash it fairly directly.

  Blueprint acquired – Durum wheat - Imperial variety

  Blueprint acquired – 6-rowed barley – Imperial variety

  Blueprint acquired – Winter rye – Imperial variety

  Blueprint acquired – Elven thyme

  Blueprint acquired – Red oregano

  Blueprint acquired – Imperial white mustard

  Blueprint acquired – Thorny lavender

  Blueprint acquired – Biennial Caraway

  It seems likely, from the names attached to the various blueprints that this structure had historical roots in an empire of some sort, and one that lasted long enough to develop its own cultivars. No telling if the empire was still around, of course, but obviously this specific outpost had failed. Not meaning any judgement on them, of course, simply that the site was no longer occupied and hadn’t been for several centuries.

  It looked like a fairly Mediterranean set of ingredients, to compare with my old world, though obviously still missing some basic elements that had been brought over from the Americas – no tomatoes, potatoes, or turkeys, for instance.

  The ceramics themselves ranged in size, shape, material, and decoration, clearly serving a range of functions from storage of liquids and dry goods through cooking and service, and I gained both a set of data for seriation functions and some blueprints from the more complete vessels to go with the basic material patterns for earthenware and majolica.

  Blueprint acquired – Earthenware ceramics

  Blueprint acquired – Majolica ceramics

  Blueprint acquired – Red earthenware jug – River red

  Blueprint acquired – Glazed earthenware olla – Jalen ruddy

  Blueprint acquired – Imperial Majolica plate – Geometric blue

  Blueprint acquired – Amphora – Imperial brown

  I’m not quite sure what I’d expected, really, but aside from the broken magic lamp, this could have been a Spanish Colonial site in my old stomping grounds. As an experienced archaeologist, I hadn’t been expecting treasure, or anything, but I had expected the fantasy elements of the world to make a stronger showing. It remained to be seen if that impression would hold, or whether the material culture just wouldn’t be that different for your average, everyday resident regardless of the world.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I hadn’t triggered the completion of my archaeological quest, so I assumed it didn’t consider my efforts to date to span the occupation phase of the structure. Having absorbed the overburden down to floor level, I kept going down a few centimeters at a time.

  After another 20 centimeters or so of mostly small river cobbles and sand, I encountered a second floor. Likely representing a periodically replaced floor from continual occupation, the small bits of charcoal I encountered dated the floor to only 30 years or so earlier (375 BP +- 40 years) with similar ceramic sherds and bits of animal bone mixed into the fill. I didn’t learn much of value, but I did pick up two additional blueprints from the domestic trash ground into the floor fill – an olive pit and some fish bones.

  Blueprint acquired: Imperial Green Olive

  Blueprint acquired: Freshwater Blue Ray

  The ray was a small one, and my assessment of the blueprint suggested it was a harmless variety, with no toxin and a maximum size of no more than 50 cm across. It could probably live in the nearby stream, though I hadn’t encountered them there.

  And that was apparently it, as my quest concluded.

  Quest Completed: Assimilate one occupational phase of an archaeological structure; Reward – Thermoluminescent Dating, Local and Regional Lore 1%

  *Ooh, nice. That should let me date pottery, even if there’s no organic material associated with it. It’s not as precise as the C14 dating, but will help if I run into really old occupations.*

  Quest Reissued: Assimilate one occupational phase of 3 additional relevant archaeological structures; Reward – 2 Relevant T2 creature blueprints

  My assumption that this occupation was related to a local empire with Mediterranean tendencies wasn’t, apparently, enough to consider the residents to be identified. Possibly I needed to find physical remains of the residents proper, or at least more detailed information about them. It was certainly possible that I could find evidence of other occupations if I continued to excavate, but I decided it would be more helpful to get a solid grasp on this most recent occupation first.

  To do that, I pushed my excavations further to the north and east, heading for the adjoining ruins of a more substantial structure that I assumed to be the primary residence associated with the kitchen. There were remains of several other outbuildings as well, and I was pretty sure I could complete the follow-on quest at least. I did perform a quick TL dating of the ceramics I’d found; unsurprisingly, the dates they provided matched fairly well with radiocarbon dates.

  What a luxury to be able to afford multiple forms of dating to cross-check. Go fantasy skills!

  I laughed at myself, briefly. What a hopeless nerd.

  This second structure was rather more substantial, with the mound covering an area of roughly 12 meters by 8 meters and, at a glance, involving rather more stone that had been clearly shaped. I could even see places where the walls hadn’t completely collapsed, where rows of three or four granite blocks rose above surface level. The height of the mound suggested a stone structure of two stories, likely with wooden framing and a lighter roofing material. Not a classic villa structure with a central atrium, but there was no reason to expect parallels to continue to that degree.

  I started in following the same procedures I’d used on the first structure. Transcribing field notes mentally as I went on, no less.

  *Might as well start as I mean to go on. I should at least set a good example for any archaeologists who come after me. Ha! Look at me – being a role model. Is it hubris, or just force of habit?*

  Clearing the vegetation got me a single blueprint.

  Blueprint acquired: Structural Ivy

  This seemed to be akin to English Ivy in growing densely on building exteriors; it had the special characteristic of providing some specific benefits – both bracing structural weaknesses and providing some limited fire resistance. Fire resistance isn’t usually a major concern for stone structures, but I could already see this building had also collapsed in a fire. Either the fire had started on the inside or the fire was simply hot enough to overwhelm the ivy’s resistance – or both.

  As I had expected, this clearly represented a primary residential structure, and one that appeared to have been hastily abandoned. Once I’d cleared the overburden and some of the masonry debris from the collapse, the frame of the structure stood revealed, showing neatly squared corners and with remaining wall courses ranging from half a meter to 3 meters, in places. The main entry appeared to face west, toward the cliff-edge, with the kitchen structure to the south, and other structures apparent to the north and east. Smaller doorways remained on each face of the structure, but the western doorway was twice the width and surrounded by delicately carved marble lintels and doorposts, still erect below the remains of the second story. The carvings were mostly floral in design, with a climbing ivy pattern, though there was a central section on the exterior face of the lintel with what appeared to be a classic coat-of-arms with text in a ribbon below. The heraldry was somewhat eroded but appeared to consist primarily of a horse’s head with a diamond in its mouth.

  The text was quite brief but matched well enough with the texts in the Common tongue I’d already encountered – no need for my epigraphy skill, yet – and translated simply as “House of Staphanos – The Emperor’s Horse”. Not sure what that really meant, of course, though it was likely to represent a knight class family, and one potentially linked to cavalry – but that was just a guess. If there were living descendants, or good records from that era, I might be able to find out more, eventually.

  Sorting through the rubble that had collapsed from the second story into the first gave me a bit more information about at least the material culture. The internal structure of the house seemed to be made up of hardwood floors supported by large cross beams embedded in the stone exterior walls. There had been smallish glass windows, but the glass fragments were simply absorbed under my existing clear glass blueprint. There were remnants of beds and tables, as well as a couple of good-sized wooden chests, along with more mana lamps and some simple wash basins. None of the furniture constituted more than a series of decaying fragments, but they were sufficient to reconstruct the originals. The larger room appeared likely to have been a sort of master bedroom while the smaller room in the upper floor would have been a nursery or children’s bedroom – judging by the smaller-sized furniture and the presence of some broken toy soldiers of tin and a ceramic wagon sized to fit them.

  Blueprint acquired: Scroll-foot bedframe (Oak - imperial style)

  Blueprint acquired: Simple Table (Oak)

  Blueprint acquired: Stoneware Washbasin – white glazed

  Blueprint acquired: Tin Soldiers (imperial)

  Blueprint acquired: Tin

  Blueprint acquired: Earthenware wagon - painted

  I suppose I might have had two races represented, with one simply smaller than the other, but Occam’s razor suggested otherwise. Any fabric or materials other than ceramic, stone, metal and hardwoods had long decayed, though I had distant hope that the chests might have protected some organic materials. If there had been carpets or wall hangings, they were no more.

  Of the two chests, neither were locked, though locking mechanisms existed. The larger one had seen significant damage, in the fire or during the collapse, and whatever contents it had once contained had long since decayed into a dark, organic soil, with only a couple of brass buttons and a handful of copper and silver coins remaining. The smaller chest, in the child’s room, had survived in better shape, having been lined with cedar and plated in a zinc alloy. The contents were sparse, though, including a few sets of simple linen clothing sized for what I would guess to be a 6-year-old boy, a stuffed horse made of soft rags, and the real prize – two small books.

  Blueprint acquired: Zinc-plated cedar chest

  Blueprint acquired: Basic Linen Shirt

  Blueprint acquired: Basic Linen Pants

  Blueprint acquired: Basic Linen Smallclothes

  Blueprint acquired: Rag pony (cotton)

  There was some charring along the bottom of one book, the chest having seen at least some fire damage, but the text and images of each were still legible. The first was a small devotional text titled simply “Gods of the Aubesan Empire – an Introduction”; while the second appeared to be a basic primer for a new reader, titled “Notable Knights of the First Emperor”. Staphanos got a quick mention as a cavalry commander, but as a kid’s book, there weren’t any useful details provided. I wasn’t sure if the chest had a preservation enchantment on it, or if the books did, or if I’d just been lucky. Finding written texts in a book form was incredibly rare in my old world, at least for sites of this age, so I was counting my blessings. It wasn’t enough to further my library quest, but it did offer me a bit more in the way of regional lore.

  As I extended my excavations into the ground floor (though separating floors in a collapsed building involves a certain amount of guesswork, inevitably), the equivalent rooms on the ground floor seemed likely to be a primary living room or similar semi-public space, along with a smaller dining room. That was mostly guesswork, as none of the furniture survived the centuries of decay – likely in worse shape than the top floor from being crushed beneath it and more susceptible to pooling water. There was a small altar area in an alcove facing the main entrance and three small statuettes remained. The largest was carved from a fine-grained marble and depicted a richly dressed human man seated on a powerfully built horse, now lacking a head and two legs. The smaller two were carved from a reddish jasper, apparently as a set, showing a serious matronly human woman and an accompanying male with an impish smile holding the pole of some tool or weapon (having been snapped off and lost at some point).

  I felt reasonably justified in connecting them with three of the deities in the devotional, and those affiliations were supported by the blueprints I secured. The larger figure was a god of horsemen and cavalry, while the smaller two represented a goddess of the household and her partner, a god of agriculture.

  Blueprint acquired: Statuette of Jerostom, Aubesan God of Horses

  Blueprint acquired: Statuette of Shyraya, Aubesan Goddess of the Hearth

  Blueprint acquired: Statuette of Shydis, Aubesan God of Agriculture

  Blueprint acquired: Marble

  Blueprint acquired: Red Jasper

  The dining area offered little of note, and assigning it a function was mostly a guess, supported only by some additional fragments of ceramics and a lone pewter spoon (that I assumed had been lost under some large piece of furniture. There were some wood scraps that might have come from tables and chairs, but nothing I could reliably identify.

  Blueprint acquired: Spoon

  Blueprint acquired: Pewter

  The spoon had no decorative pattern or maker’s mark, which I assumed was why it had no pattern affiliated with it. It was just a spoon.

  The only remaining point of interest was evidence of a post-occupation rodent burrow that seemed sized for something larger than ground squirrels but smaller than badgers. Tracing the warren back towards the surface (and out of my nicely defined units), I did find some scraps of bone. Those weren’t particularly exciting, as they turned out to match up with the Horned Rabbit blueprint I’d already secured.

  From there, I expected to turn to the other outlying structures, wondering what I’d find. I wasn’t sure if this would turn out to be a vacation home for minor nobles of the empire, a working farm of some sort, or something else entirely. I assumed the other structures would have specific functions (like the kitchen) and would shed at least some light on the topic. There was no sign of servants’ quarters in the house, though it was at least possible some staff lived in adjoining structures.