Gozzo the archaeologist

by Kujivunia

1 Gozzo the archaeologist

Griffins doesn't like to share. When someone wants to emphasize someone's greed, that's what they say: greedy as a griffin. They won't give up anything or a word just like that. Even if you suddenly hear a griffin telling something, be sure: he either took a hard coin for it, or is trying to gain fame around him.

Almost every griffin was like that. Almost - it's not worth rowing everyone under the same comb. Just such a griffin, who did not fall under the crest of greed, was Gozzo.

However, he was not a simpleton either. He was a terrible gossip. In general, griffins don't like to gossip either—they usually don't get paid for it. And griffins are ready to sell a spear to their worst enemy if he suddenly loses or breaks his own.

Gozzo was an archaeologist. An old-school archaeologist, one of those who was ready to plow through the entire ancient mound in search of a gold cup that could be put on a shelf or sold for a substantial sum. But he was one of the first to realize that the ruins contain not only gold, but also gossip. And gossip, if properly presented, is worth more than any money.

The Gold Cup is good. But for one gold cup there will be five carts of pottery shards. And what is it - everything is in a landfill? Of course! Who needs this garbage? But Gozzo decided otherwise. Why did the proud griffin decide to dig in the trash?

It all started with an ancient forge. Gozzo quickly identified the melting furnace in the pile of bricks, and now he was carefully digging for some sword or gold ring that had rolled into a corner. And suddenly, at the very remains of the wall, he unearthed a rusty fragment of a sword. The fragment was rotten almost through, and Gozzo threw it back in a rage. I spent half a day digging up the floor of the forge — and all in vain!

The Gryphon lit a pipe with lousy tobacco. He couldn't find anything worthwhile for months, and his budget was melting like a lost horseshoe in the damp earth.

When the pipe was empty, Gozzo picked up the shovel again. He dug and dug, carefully examining every clod of earth with his sharp eyes. Nothing. It was getting dark, and it was getting harder and harder to find him. And suddenly, at the very remains of what had once been a wall, he unearthed a second fragment of a sword. This fragment also rusted almost through, and Gozzo threw it back in a rage, sending the most rude and unprintable curses after him. All day long he dug up the whole forge — in vain! There wasn't even the most overwhelming ring!

Hope is dead. He had already excavated almost the entire ancient village, and the forge was the last place where there could be anything interesting. Gozzo bought information about this place from some farmer whose plow came across a pot of silver pennies. It cost him a lot of money, but where there is one treasure, there must be another. The Gryphon took one last close look at his unsuccessful purchase and suddenly burst out laughing!

Gozzo imagined how a thousand years ago a blacksmith spent a whole day forging a beautiful sword that had already been paid for, forged the purest blade, put it in quenching oil, took the sword and burst. And the blacksmith's dreams of the fair suddenly collapsed with this blade. Then he, beside himself with rage, scattered the wreckage around the forge and left before the local gentleman found out what happened to his new blade. Gozzo became an archaeologist.

Comments

[miceordogs]

Awesome story so far! Very interesting writing style (in a good way)