This piece of an aerial vehicle of Procedural origin is made of Sentsteel, a rare commodity in recent times with hoarders, scavengers, and scrappers—all very much like you—taking as much as they can of what remains. The process of making Sentsteel was intentionally destroyed in a 3rd Spin war, long after Procedural forces had been defeated and long after any of the reasons they fought for still mattered. They were kept in archival and used for analysis, but in that 3rd Spin war, two Lesser offshoots branched off and carpet-bombed the locations holding these texts, with intent to destroy any historical text that linked Revolution to the Sixth Prophetic Growing.

It's not like it would be impossible to reproduce the process that created Sentsteel, especially when so many Procedural texts still detail some material collection that could point toward the way Sentsteel would be made, but the fact of the matter is that most engineers have moved onto grander refinement. For though Sentsteel is beautiful and unique, several other materials, some more expensive and others easier to make, easily outclass it in terms of strength and durability—a fact that can clearly be seen as you examine the blast marks and the shredding of this metal from the hull of a crashed aircraft buried in the aftermath of a long-over Procedural-Cedentic conflict.

Underneath the first layer, before where the Sentsteel turns golden from bacterial age but after the layers where the rotten paint still hangs on for dear life, you found something interesting. Procedural writing is carved into the metal, writing that you're probably the first to be seeing since the person who wrote it gave it one last look. You're not familiar with Procedural, but you've been in forgebased capitals before and you've seen enough 8th Spin New Traditionalist (a language you know to be descended from Procedural-influenced Cedentic dialects) graffiti to recognize the structure and to be able to know what it is: a tag, likely the name of whoever it was worked on this layer of the aircraft. The last remnant of a person who's been dead longer than history could maintain both its relevance and its permanence.

Of course, then you melted it down and sold the Sentsteel off for a damn good price. A reproduction of the tag is saved in one of your notebooks, categorized and shelved according to its content. If you ever come across a Procedural translator—not unlikely considering that you don't imagine this'll be the last time you work with Sentsteel—maybe you'll ask them what the tag says, but you'll probably forget.

You recovered this artifact in the wreckage of a Grounding Passage that was shredded through before its doors could open. All the corpses were long dragged out--you don't know if they were removed fresh after the battle during a sparse clean-up sweep or if it was when the corpses had left behind their flesh and become skeletons, maybe being dragged out by Deumatic Rite followers who wanted to lay the poor souls to rest. Whatever the case, this music box must surely have been a personal effect of one of the soldiers within.

It's remarkably well-preserved. You've had to clean it off from dust caked on, but the dots inscribed on the brass underneath remain clear on the surface once cleaned, allowing you to easily deepen them to let the sound be better. The music box itself is a marvel of Andilaeon engineering too. When the key is wound, the box opens to reveal a small stage, intricately carved from Lucian wood, a tree species you know to be grown several thousands of miles away from here, making this box extremely rare and immensely expensive.

The stage itself is set contemporarily for the ballet scene of Andilaeon society at the time of the Andilaeon-Katethent-Protospinner war, a time you believe was somewhere between the Last Devastation of Rendra and the Third Prophetic Growing. The three-factioned war was highly unexpected, as both Andilaeon and Katethent society were more concerned with the development of their cultures' arts at the time, with Protospinners seeding conflict and eventually decimating both other societies and communing with FERA to bring about a Growing.

The relative peace of Andilaeon society before the war is preserved here in excellent craftsmanship and fine handiwork, carving a small ballet dancer who performs intricate (but choppy) movements for a carved audience in a number of stands placed in a half-circle around the stage, each audience member drawn with an expression of their own. One of the arms of the ballet dancers is broken off--it's not present anywhere else in the box, so your guess is that whatever soldier possessed this item is to blame for its breaking. It's also one of the upper arms that the dancer lifts high into the air during a twirl at the end, so you imagine the soldier pretended that they were twirling the dancer around by clasping the arm in their fingers. This artifact is well-loved. It'll go for a high price when you find an antique collector.