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Prince of Persia. Now killer HORSES that's some scary--
...so what's the use of working in a museum if you can't make really really stupid ancient world jokes involving games that happen to be set in said ancient world.
Prince of Persia. Of the exceedingly Achaemenid variety.
Elika stared blankly. “Who?”
He rubbed his arm in remembrance. “You know. Saka.”
The word came up hard on the language barrier. She wasn’t from one of the satrapies. “Sacae,” he tried, instead. She shook her head. “Scythians. Northern nomads. You find them up in the steppes…” He pointed. Then realized he was pointing at nothing but sky and put his hand down.
“Never been,” said Elika, with a wry crease of her nose.
“A liiittle too familiar with their horses. Usually wear swords. And a lot of gold. And also, swords. Sometimes those have gold on them, too.”
Her eyes lit up. “I know something like that,” she said. “My people welcomed the nomadic tribes. They brought items from all over the world. And wore images of animals on their clothes and on their weapons.”
“…and those would be Scythians,” he said. “Nice of your people to invite them. Glad to know they’ve never chased you for seven days.” He paused, for effect. “On horses. Incidentally? Don’t make them mad.”
Elika’s lips twitched. “Why, I can’t imagine how you might have offended them.”
“Man minding his own business in the grasslands….”
“And then you robbed them.”
“See now? Now you’re assuming. Assuming is what they did. I stole from not a living thing.”
“It was a burial mound, wasn’t it.”
“Well if you leave them out for just anyone to find,” Elika snorted, and he mustered his pride in an injured sort of way, “Seven days.” He held up the fingers. “On horses.”
Prince of Persia. Of the exceedingly Achaemenid variety.
Elika stared blankly. “Who?”
He rubbed his arm in remembrance. “You know. Saka.”
The word came up hard on the language barrier. She wasn’t from one of the satrapies. “Sacae,” he tried, instead. She shook her head. “Scythians. Northern nomads. You find them up in the steppes…” He pointed. Then realized he was pointing at nothing but sky and put his hand down.
“Never been,” said Elika, with a wry crease of her nose.
“A liiittle too familiar with their horses. Usually wear swords. And a lot of gold. And also, swords. Sometimes those have gold on them, too.”
Her eyes lit up. “I know something like that,” she said. “My people welcomed the nomadic tribes. They brought items from all over the world. And wore images of animals on their clothes and on their weapons.”
“…and those would be Scythians,” he said. “Nice of your people to invite them. Glad to know they’ve never chased you for seven days.” He paused, for effect. “On horses. Incidentally? Don’t make them mad.”
Elika’s lips twitched. “Why, I can’t imagine how you might have offended them.”
“Man minding his own business in the grasslands….”
“And then you robbed them.”
“See now? Now you’re assuming. Assuming is what they did. I stole from not a living thing.”
“It was a burial mound, wasn’t it.”
“Well if you leave them out for just anyone to find,” Elika snorted, and he mustered his pride in an injured sort of way, “Seven days.” He held up the fingers. “On horses.”