Consciousness first returns to you in the form of a sound, a chugging, rumbling drone that merges perfectly with the throbbing pain in your temples. An engine, you realize as your thoughts begin to cohere. You're out at sea. Despair washes over your groggy senses and, resigned to the worst, you open your eyes.
Light floods your consciousness with pain, and you clamp your eyes shut again. A few rapid blinks later, your vision starts to adjust. Blurred shapes begin to coalesce into recognizable images as you struggle against the nausea in your gut, caused either by the pitching and rolling of the ship or by the overpowering smell of stale tobacco and engine oil.
You are in the hold, lashed tight to a hard wooden chair. In front of you is a folding table with another chair, currently unoccupied, across from you. You make out the shape of the crate containing the artifacts to the left of the other chair.
Two figures stand opposite to you, studying you with interest. One of the figures steps forward, and you realize with distaste that it is Albrecht Schneider.
Schneider leans on the table, peers down at you, and speaks.