Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals by Dan Abnett, Nik Vincent Page A

They walked the few hundred feet to the best museum in Oxford. It was also one of the oldest in the country and the first university museum in the world.
    “Take no notice of Babbington,” said Kennard as they sat down in the coffee shop with their tray of drinks. “He’s an arrogant bastard.”
    “He seems to know his stuff, and he owns some beautiful objects,” said Lara.
    “True and true,” said Kennard. “He shouldn’t have made you the butt of his joke, though. The question was valid.”
    “Only up to a point,” said Lara. “Stuff still rots. That’s why I’ve spent time digging post holes at archaeological sites where no posts remain, because they’ve rotted away. And that’s wood. I’m talking about wool.”
    “Things also miraculously survive,” said Kennard. “There are thousands of examples of Roman leather shoes. Egyptian mummies dating back two and a half millennia still have cloth remains. Not everything is lost.”
    “An Egyptian mummy is very particular, though, isn’t it?” said Lara. “It’s special. Great lengths were taken to preserve the remains of the dead because of the religious beliefs held by the people in that time and place. The cloth survives because of those other factors.”
    “Lots of things are special,” said Kennard.
    “Do you agree with Professor Babbington about the gold mining methods in Colchis?” asked Lara. “That there is no such thing as the Golden Fleece?”
    “There’s a good argument for that,” said Kennard. “But a pragmatist can make a good argument for anything. How many people do you know who believe in God? Some things only require an act of faith.”
    Lara laughed.
    “Does Professor Babbington know you’re one of his despised romantics?” she asked.
    “Should that worry me?” asked Kennard.
    They sat for a few moments. Lara toyed with her mug.
    “So even if we concur with the professor’s pragmatic view, you believe that one of the mining fleeces might still have been special in some particular way?”
    “I don’t see why that shouldn’t be possible,” said Kennard. “Sometimes stories grow up around otherwise unremarkable objects. When some event goes unexplained, it becomes a miracle, perhaps not so much now, but certainly in ancient times.”
    “And if such an artifact did exist for some reason,” said Lara, “you also believe that it might have survived?”
    “When an object, any object, whatever its intrinsic value, is considered special or has some other value attached to it, people do their best to preserve it, and they pass it on or acquire it.”
    “Give me an example,” said Lara.
    “Take a piece of paper… This, for example,” said Kennard, holding up a paper napkin. “It’s totally disposable. It’s meaningless, valueless. Thousands of these are used and thrown away in this coffee shop every year. But imagine, I don’t know, this was 1970 and J.R.R. Tolkein was sitting at the next table.”
    “Why Tolkein?” asked Lara.
    “Merton alum,” said Kennard. “Imagine he graciously gave me his autograph on this napkin before he died. Suppose he also wrote some profound statement in Elvish. My napkin would have meaning and value. Agreed?”
    “Of course it would,” said Lara.
    “And, unlike all the other napkins, it might survive a thousand years.”
    “You make a very good point,” said Lara.
    “You haven’t told me why the Golden Fleece and not something else,” said Kennard.
    “I’m interested in artifacts with healing properties,” said Lara, not wanting to give too much away, “and the fleece seemed like the obvious place to start.”
    “It is,” said Kennard. “Its whereabouts has also been shrouded in mystery for a very long time.”
    “You’re not giving me a lot of hope of finding it,” said Lara, smiling.
    “Then let me give you some inspiration instead,” said Kennard, rising from the table. “Let’s see what room sixteen has to offer.”
    They took the main staircase up to