It had never really been the ministry’s place to store ancient artifacts— at least ones that weren’t made there. Most physical artifacts were under the care of Primo. Any that Secondo was responsible for keeping and restoring were usually in the form of books or documents; his specialty. He wasn’t entirely sure why this strange little box had been put within his jurisdiction.

It seemed simple enough. Just don’t touch it. He’d heard Primo say something about it being not just old, but ancient. Predating America and modern Italy, the artifact was supposed to be Egyptian. A tomb which contained a shockingly well-preserved mummy. How it had fallen into the hands of a Satanic ministry was beyond him. Still, he didn’t mind sharing a little bit of space in his quarters with the box. It wasn’t like anything was going to jump out of it.

“Oh! Satan below, get—” he hissed, having jumped up onto his dresser, pointing a threatening hand in the direction of the bandage-wrapped thing before him. “Absolutely not. No.”

He scratched at his throat, where their hands had left marks. For something a thousand years dead, its grip was surprisingly strong when it had tried to strangle him. He never thought he’d be reduced to a scrambling mess, especially by what he thought was a mummy, or, well, dust.

They stared at him, their eyes dark, fists clenched at bony sides. Secondo was still tense, ready to hit them over the head with his staff if they so much as stepped towards him, fragile, valuable skull be damned. Slowly, ever so slowly, he climbed down from the furniture, the aged wood groaning under his weight. His vintage didn’t seem so old now compared to the thing (he wasn’t sure if they still qualified as a person) before him.