Vanilla and her gang transversed without any more impediments the sultry passage of Egyptian hieroglyphics.
They found themselves at another rectangular limestone room with a vaulted roof, pillars, and rusty exhibitors with all kinds of old objects: From crystal jars filled with fermented liquids, passing through armors and weaponry from centuries pre-XIV, to wooden toys and shining gems.
All of them invaded by spiderwebs and dust, but their eternal extravagance showed off their time and era to their visitors.
Vanilla wondered. If they weren't alone inside that bunker, according to the words of those two dead cultists, why would the ones that supposedly crossed the Egyptian wall leave behind and untouched such relics at that room?
They seemed able of ending anyone's poverty for the rest of their lives. No scavenger or treasure hunter would just simply leave them there alone.
