Pharaoh's "Shoe maker"

[Akbar]

The Palace gardens were under heavy maintenance. The Nile was at its highest point and the palace gardeners were bringing in the best of the local plants to replace the long dead ones that sat pathetically in the corners. They were scurrying to and from the gates in their heaps under the close watch of their supervisors. One of these men however, was not there for the shrubbery. He was walking up ad down the rows of newly planted trees with no particular intention of doing any planting. He had been in the garden all morning and was sweating from the heat. He was monitoring the palace carefully and if anyone asked, he would say that he was watching for a rare bird that the pharaoh had requested for his birdhouse. The simple truth was that the pharaoh had not asked him to find a bird. He didn't even have a birdhouse to put one in.
The man was known as "the shoe maker" by others of his profession, while anyone else just called him Hannibal (In fact, his real name was Akbar, without a second name due to family issues). He was waiting for some one to leave the palace and meet him but the agreed time was well passed. Usually he would have left after waiting a few minutes, but this was an important meeting and curiosity had beaten his professional habit.
It was mid-afternoon and his loitering was starting to become noticed by the palace guards, who were already inquiring after his identity. He knew he had waited to long but also that he couldn't just make a run for it, as all gardeners were unpaid slaves and were kept on a tight leash. The gates were all guarded and the only unguarded doors to the palace lead directly to the cellars. His original plan was to get a different identity from his informant (who had promise that if he posed as a slave, he would get him out again) but the informant had failed to show up. He could see the guards coming to wards him but could not make a break for it without alerting them. He reluctantly braced himself for light conversation.

Second Guard: You! Yes you! Who is your supervisor?
Akbar looked quizzically at the men and blabbered the first line of Latin that came into his head: How much for this dead cow?
The answer came in a blow to the stomach which he accepted without resistance. The Guard grabbed him and dragged him up to his full height.
First Guard: Talk sense scum! If you wont talk I'm sure your arm will.
The guard reached for his sleeve but never got past the lining. Hannibal had dealt him a blow to the groin that sent him reeling back into his fellow guard. He had turned to flee but the second guard and reacted faster than expected and had put a spear through his leg. He fell to the dirt before it had even begun and was dragged to his feet.
Second Guard: On your feet you! You are going to regret doing that for the rest of your miserable slave life, which I can guarantee will NOT be longer than a few more days!
Hannibal grunted his agreement without paying much attention to the man. He knew that his wound could well kill him if he did not do anything soon, but his focus was slipping and shock was setting in hard. In reality, he had to plug the wound and dress it before he lost consciousness or he would die of blood loss. A grim situation to put it mildly...

[Lady Freya]

Want some company?



It had not been long since Freya had come to Egypt. Her Father had practically tied her to a man and country she did not know. She was an alien and clearly did not know this world. Still, she held some authority among the Palace guards, as she was a Princess. She was dressed in a long black gown, her hair hanging freely. She had been reading upon this new land by a pool, when she had heard commotion. It distracted her somewhat from what she was doing, for quite a moment. She was not enjoying the noises she heard. She closed the book, and headed in the direction in which the noise had come. By now it had subsided, and had made the Princess quite curious as to what it was.

She moved around a corridor to seem two of the palace guards, with a hostage in their arms. Needless to say the hostage was wounded. It was quite obvious, as the spear was still sticking out of his leg, “What goes on here?” she asked from behind the Guards.

It would probably be a shock to them, for she knew this area, during the heat of the day was usually abandoned by the royals. Freya had come to prefer the quiet, feeling quite dislodged from the rest of the company she shared the palace with. She crossed her arms across her chest in a gesture of not being pleased, “I have been unfortunately disturbed by what seemed a rather large commotion and I wish to know what it was, now… would you have me ask you again or shall I have the Pharaoh punish you for disobedience?”

She was a strong minded woman, however that was barely ever displayed in this new world. She was quite antisocial, and when she was in public spotlight or in company, she was shy and tended to remain as a shadow to the people. Her eyes never moving from looking down. A sign of discomfort. However, she still had her temper, and it burnt inside of her. It ached to rage out, however she contended herself to keep it deep within and to let no one know, of her feeling like an outsider. She cursed her Father every day for this, and would continue to do so.

Her eyes glanced towards the hostage, in somewhat pity. She could see the trail of blood, and knew instantly from the amount that it was a mortal wound and could take his life, if not taken care of. The sooner she had an answer from the two guards, she'd decide whether she should help the man or not.

[Akbar]

Akbar had re-gained consciousness after a few minuets. He awoke to find himself being dragged through the palace cloisters by the two same guards he had encountered earlier. He tried to move his leg but found that the spear shaft had not been removed. It was holding the wound together and he was grateful that it was plugging the wound, but it was easy to die from infection and he did not want to lose his leg, his profession was not one for cripples. The pain was throbbing up his spine and making his head spin, but he was now fighting the pain and trying to re-gain control of his thoughts. Just as they were approaching a corner however, a woman came swiftly round it. She was carrying her self like a noblewoman should and was clutching a Carthaginian novel in her hands. She Put some sharp questions to the guards but Akbar was only barley listening. He had his entire attention on her and was working out his best course of action. He knew that she was possibly his last hope of rescue and although he did not know her, he could see that she was still a young woman and was a princess of some sort. Princesses were not accustomed to violence as their overly protective parents would keep them out of bloody affairs. He caught her glance his way and lifted his head to meet her gaze unblinkingly. She looked cross and any other commoner would have looked away, but he kept his gaze steady and after a second, took control of his position. He could see the guards looked afraid and reluctant to speak, so before they could say anything, he spoke out.

"My lady, would it be appropriate for me to explain? I am sorry that my actions have caused you to be disrupted but there has been a misunderstanding and if you could be as so kind as to spare me a slow and painful death you might learn something new today, as well as acquire yourself a very fine craftsman." He spoke with a matter-of-fact tone that did not show panic or despairer or fear. He simply made what he said fact.
The guard to his left hit him across the face and shouted at him not to talk to "Lady Freya" unless spoken to. Akbar however gave no retort and instead spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, glancing briefly at Lady Freya to see her reaction. His bleak and colorless face gave nothing away, but secretly he was terrified of the possible outcome and he hoped with all his heart that Lady Freya would not react badly to his request...

[Lady Freya]

Freya’s eyes remained unyielding upon the guards. She could see them tense, she knew when muscles tensed, she had experienced a lot of men yield to her powerful and outlining voice. Suddenly the victim spoke out loud, trying the guard’s patience. She listened tolerantly, and with a good-nature she dismissed the fact they he had spoken without being addressed to. A guard, noticed this and laid a swift blow to the victims face, making Freya jump from the un-expectedness of it. Of course, she’d seen blood, she seen brutality. She’d seen it all, if that was possible to even say. Yet still, this was an alien world to her and still, she was not fully accustomed to how the guards worked around here. Back home, they were not allowed to la a finger upon anyone unless a higher authority demanded it, or whether they deemed the person an intruder and possible of committing a crime. But still they were not able to torture their victim so, unless punishment demanded it.

She held her hand up, stopping the guards form this cruel act, she looked back to the victim, whom had kept his gaze upon her. When the guards noticed her hand signal, they immediately stopped anything. So, she had learnt something of their culture and she had stopped them from any brutality in the next few moments. She returned her attention to the injured party that remained within the guards grip and wounded.

“You speak without due, Sir,” she said patiently, “And you trust the patience of those around you. It is a bold and brave move,” for a moment longer she kept strong eye contact with the man. As though her eyes could see right into his core, and find out his true meaning of being here. But of course, she was not capable of that. She was a mortal. She looked to the guards and gave them a swift nod.

“Release this man,” and before they could protest, she spoke on, “I believe he is a craftsman whom I had called for many months before I had came here,” she lied, “I would have you release him, better yet, take him to a chamber in the west wing, where his wounds shall be taken care of. I will have no argument from you men, and if there is one brutal hand laid upon this man,” she motioned to the victim, “You will face the consequences, understood?”

She did not know why she lied. Perhaps, it was that kind streak that she had, had for sometime. The shy girl yet the stern exterior allowed potential changes in her personality ever so often. There was some oddness about this man, and she intended to find out why and what his purpose here was. And she would.

[Akbar]

Through the haze of pain Akbar smiled to himself. The Lady was indeed intelligent to let him live. He was relieved that his words had had an effect on her, but was also alarmed that she had lied to the guards for someone whom she had never met until this moment. He kept his face composed however and nodded gratefully to her. He knew she would expect something from him, and he doubted she wanted new shoes made either. He was unused to kindness and less so from women. His eyes lingered on her a moment longer, he took note of the questionable eyes and decided that for the time being, he would have to play along with her. But he also felt something that he was not used to feeling as he was led away by the reluctant guards- guilt. He Knew that at some point, he would do something to destroy this lady's modest life and for the first time in his life, he was having doubts about his work. The picture of the relaxed lady lingered in his minds eye a moment longer than he expected, before he blocked it out. He knew that he should have as little to do with this Lady as possible, he was well aware that she could ruin his entire mission and with it his reputation.

As he was taken into his new lodgings, a group of slave boys and a healer arrived holding bandages and various ailments. He was surprised at the punctuality of the Healer. He was laid on a bed and immediately the healer set to work. The guards sat by and waited, talking in low voices while the Healer slowly and steadily removed the shaft of wood. Akbar Kept his silence while the Healer continued, not letting one noise past his lips. His body was tense, but the years of hardship gave him a lodging to sit on and he kept his silence. His Childhood had been one of innocence and he had always had someone to take care of him. Maybe this was why he had not protested to the Healer. His Hard line of work had not entirely removed his domestic life from him as he liked to think and he found himself wondering what had happened to that life he once had, the people who had once loved him.

A Sharp stinging sensation shot up his leg and suddenly his vision went cold. For a few seconds he could hear the Healer shouting instructions to the slaves and the panic in his voice. Then he slipped into blackness. It was going to be a cold nap...

[Lady Freya]

Tolerant was what many could say about Freya. She was very strategic and every move, was not only precise but had a plan allocated to it, even before one could notice it. She was sharp minded and obstinate. Never easily persuaded. Her natural ability to be fleet and materialise, was yet another one of her hidden attributes, which she could summon at any particular time. That is why many did not hear here approaching or sneaking out at night. Oh yes, she was quite good at sneaking. She had every avenue, every escape, every possible thing that could detain her organised. Always.

Freya was content with allowing the healer and servants do their job before she protruded upon this man whom she had just saved. She intended to give him a little time to think things over, and to also allow herself time to organise why she had lied about knowing this man. Of course, a plan should come along with it. However, just not this time. She had not planned it sufficiently and therefore was un-able to adjust to her lying. She’d been a good liar as a child, and had gotten her way for many a time, before her mother died. Then she was left to her father, in whom she abhorred with a great fierce passion. She had never been free of that man, either way she went she always had him attached to her in one way or the other. She hated him for it. Despised him for it. She would never give him a true blood heir. Ever. No matter how hard he tried. She most likely do the honourable thing and take her life along with the child that grew in her womb, if that was the case.

After a few hours or so, after she had spoken to the healer Freya entered the chamber in which this man had been resting in. From what she was told, was that he had passed out due to loss of blood, however would return to consciousness in due time. For now, all she had to do was wait. Yet another thing, she was good at. Patience.

Looped about her arm was her snake, whom rested and watched with curious eyes what passed. She was told she’d always be protected with the smooth scaled creature, and since she had been told that, within the snake’s presence she had never been harmed. Emotionally, physically or mentally. Freya walked over to the window and stood there. For now, she would wait.

[Akbar]

Akbar woke early the next day to find his Leg had undergone serious surgery. Although it was dressed and cleaned, he could make out the chunk of flesh missing from his leg where the spear had entered at an angle. He liked to think himself a tough cookie, but he couldn't fail to notice the sickness welling up inside him. Looking away, he checked his location. he was still lying in the same chamber, but it was early morning now and he had passed out in the evening. He had yet to discover how long he had been out cold, something that bothered him. He did not like to be kept ignorant of simple facts and if he had been out longer than a three days, his chances of completing his mission would be nothing.

He slowly swung him self over the side of the bed, Ignoring sharp pain. He lowered his feet to the ground steadily, testing the joints. He was relieved to find that the wound was in the lower ancal, meaning that he stood a chance of re-gaining his agility in the near future. Slowly, he got up. He let out a small grunt as he put weight on his wounded leg and promptly turned for a support. Finding nothing, he promptly sat back down on the bed again and quickly ran through his options. After a few minutes, he called out for assistance. A small slave boy ran into his room and asked him if he could assist sir. Akbar, in a slow and steady voice told the boy to go and find Lady Freya and tell her that he is awake. The boy looked doubtfully of his request and after a small pause asked Akbar if he really wanted to disturb the Lady for such a small matter.
Putting on his most pompous and mighty act, he began his quickly put together story.
"I see you are not pleased with my request." he spoke in a clear and arrogant voice. "I did not expect you to understand, but so you don't go away with false ideas about anything;" He paused a second taking the boy in. If he was to clear any rumors, he needed to start here. The slaves all talked and he knew that some were paid extra food to repeat information to the supervisors. He did not want them to suspect a thing. "I was summoned here to dress the feet of Lady Freya with such fine garments that she could walk to Carthage and back without a single red mark. I came, and was subjected to the vile behavior of your palace guards after waiting for admittance to the palace. i have many other customers who are paying a great amount of money to also have fine garments made for them, and my customers are not ones to be kept waiting. I intend to complete my task as soon as possible and leave this place to attend to my other customers.". as he slowed his speech, a palace official walked into the room. He turned to the newcomer and started up again. "I take it I will receive full pay with an extra fee for losing valuable time and a leg? I would make it your business to relay that information on the the treasury before I collect my pay. I don't take pleasure in making people suffer but if my request is not met I will be given no choose." The man looked puzzled, but before he could inquire Akbar continued. "You do know why I am here don't you? Shurley someone has made a note of my payment??? I expect the correct payment when I leave with the bonus I ask for or I will have to take it up with Pharaoh (incidentally, we are old friends). So get going, you get Lady Freya, and YOU can make a start as to making shure my pay is sorted out. oh..." he let his anger fade away carefully before asking for a stick.

Satisfied that his acting had put the rummors streight, he shifted himself to the edge of the bed again. It was ironic really. He was here to undermine the Pharaoh, and he was being paid to do it by the man himself! Now his only problem was Lady Freya, and he doubted that she could stop him. She had already lied to the palace guards, and if she said anything against him, he could so easily take her down with him...

[Lady Freya]

Freya rested peacefully within an outer chamber, the night had taken her somewhat wearisome body into a peaceful slumber and she had slept well. That morning she had not been woken rudely nor interrupted, but as soon as the sunlight began to intrude, she was awake. Grateful for the peaceful wakening. At least it was not mindless servants rushing about to get things done before she had woken. She dressed in a royal blue gown, one that she had worn while residing in Carthage. She pinned her golden tresses of hair with a silver pin, and took up a book she had been reading the previous day.

This was where she was now. The outer chamber in which she intended to read peacefully and wait for the man to wake. She had not been disturbed, so she gathered he had not woken, and still lay in a sleep. Her book contained many useful stories in which she had encountered and wished to have with her, during her travels. As she neared the end of her favourite story a distressed servant came her way.

At first he had snuck a look around the corner, to see if she was there and then slowly and gradually moved forward, bowing to grasp her attention instead of acknowledging her with her name. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye and looked towards him. When she gave a swift nod, the servant boy stood and told her that the man had awaken and that he was requesting her. The servant sounded pretty shaken, so she had gathered that this man, who’s life she had probably saved, had woken up with part of his leg missing and not in a very good mood.

She nodded to the servant and bid him take his leave for a few hours to accommodate the stress he had just put himself through. From there, she went to the chambers in which she had last heard the man of being in. She came to the door, her snake about her arm and slowly peered in. Sure enough, the fellow was awake. Freya took a slow breath before she stepped in. However not moving too close, she simply walked in and let her presence be known.

What now she wondered. Perhaps he would thank her, for doing the duty of saving his life, even though she truly did not know him or had ordered him. She gathered he was somewhat of a merchant that made footwear, but he also seemed more serious then that. The whole concentration of his eyes on her, even during the moments he had suffered from the guards, and the spear, he had still remained to keep some eye contact with her. That showed something, which she believed not many footwear merchants had.

[Akbar]

Akbar was alerted to her presence by the hiss of a snake, and looked up to meet her gaze. He disliked snakes and had to stop himself instinctively twitching for a blade. Once he had mastered his instincts however, he stood up to greet her. He looked at her for a few seconds, before realizing that she was waiting for him to speak first. He smiled openly, and began.

"So, lady Freya I assume? I see that you decided not to bring the thumb screws? Very kind of you, It would have been very easy for you to have what you wanted tortured out of me, I admire your desire to do it personally, which leads me onto what you did last night." He smiled again and continued. "I appreciate that you are no fool, and so I do not wish to waste time thanking you for your help. Only a fool accepts gifts from strangers and I am no fool. I will reserve my thanks and instead, repay you later on when you most need my help. I dint want to waste time making up lies and playing games either. I will tell you what you want to know in exchange for what I want to know. " He paced over to the window and look out, awaiting her response.

(OCC: Please pm me if you dont get anything, im being incredably vage! )

[Lady Freya]

(OOC: I am content. J)

Freya watched the man with curiosity. She had saved the life of an intruder for reasons she truly did not understand. For all she could know, he could be her father’s assassin gunning to take her out of this life. However, she supposed her father would not be as cruel as that, it might shame his throne even further if news of such an onslaught whispered out into the public, and perhaps it would be that his rule would be over thrown. Yet, Freya also understood her father was not as stupid, as many might have supposed. She had taken him for granted once before. The day her mother died.

She focused on the man’s eyes. She saw them look at the snake swathed about her arm. From the look she could perceive that he was not much of a snake-friend. Yet, she paid no heed to it. She dared not think he would bring any harm to either one of them. Her and the snake that is. She made a slight incline when he presumed her name correctly and carried on listening to the words that further rolled from his lips.

She followed his gaze to the window, after a matter of moments. She folded her arms across her chest, and wondered what this man was up to. There was some perseverance in his tone, yet perhaps she was wrong. It would not be the first time. She returned her gaze to the fellow, “Then I will not be the Fool and demand your gratitude regarding the circumstances of the past evening. Upon these humble words you have bestowed upon me I am encouraged that you are on the contrary a man of your word,” she said with a small smile, and a glance from the corner of her eyes as she slowly moved over to window and looked out. The sandy city, that she now called home appeared like some barren wasteland. Like a prison that would never allow her the beauty of the world she had once resided in. Perhaps another trick of her father’s.

“Please enlighten me, upon what you would most like to here,” she turned to face him once more.

[Akbar]

Akbar pulled out his old pair of winter shoes and casualy began to work at one of the seams. With delicate accuracy he worked the leather and began to take the shoe apart. He started talking in a hushed voice as to make shure she was the only person who ever heard his words.
"yes yes, straight to the point. Well, the one thing i would like to know is how i could gain private audience with the Pharaoh. I do not care under what circumstances these are. I am confident you can think of a way. I believe you have many influences amoungst the guards. The authority you displayed to those two "monkeys" tells me that you are well known amoung the palace guards. Just a thought..."
He paused to look up at her, but was rewarded with the back of her head. However, she made no effort to speak so he carried on.
"I am not a trator Lady Freya, I have no intensions of harming the rightfull Pharaoh of Egypt. I may be one of dark deeds, but I have never sent a soul to the underworld. I can assure you that your part in this will not be known. Now, I have made my request to you, what do you wish to know in return?"
He knew he had spoken out of tearm but it hardly mattered now. His plan must go ahead or he would lose everything, and he couldn't let that happen.
His work on the shoe intensified.

[Lady Freya]

Freya watched as the craftsman, even though potentially wounded carried on with his work. That was well for the movements he needed to complete such work was not needed from his leg. But surely he could rest? Or take some time off… However the words that came next were ones she had not quite expected. Even though he did not utterly describe his intentions he tended to lay them out quite clearly.

However she knew that his tone was light, so that the guards outside could not hear the conversation uttered between them. She turned away a moment, knowing that this man also had the potential to take her life. Yet, she supposed while she was still an asset he would not dare harm her. She took a deep breath and continued listening to what this mysterious man had to say. No longer strangers were they, for they had met and become acquainted.

“I have heard what you have said,” she said clearly, yet in a similar tone to he. She turned to face him, what did she intend to hear from this man? He seemed to be a man of his word, at the moment. He exchanged his knowledge for hers. She gathered it was a trait that came with his occupation, and she supposed he was an assassin, “I wish to know who sent you.”

This was not so she could leak it out. Even though she supposed her betrothed’s life was in danger, she had not near enough evidence to prove so, “and whom you deem is the rightful Pharaoh.”

She had her uses for this information, she supposed. The whole secret conversation sent spurs of coldness down her spine. She could not plot against this man, whom her father had handed her over to. It was not out of loyalty that she could not plot against him, she barely knew the man. He barely spoke or looked at her. She was alien to their society, if anything just a trophy to be sat beside him in his tomb. Yet, the reason she could not offer a way for this man to gain private audience was because she could not say. She had never had a private audience with the Pharaoh, let alone barely exchange words.

“You prove correct when you say that I am known and have limited authority among the guards here and I grant you the knowledge that I was handed over to the Pharaoh without a say, by my father. I do not truly understand the way of these people, nor can I offer you the knowledge of how to gain a private audience with he, for the terms that he is never alone and I have never been graced by his private presence once in my stay here. I daresay when that day comes I will be on my death bed.”

She watched him work on the shoe a little longer, curious as to what he was doing. If he murdered the Pharaoh, it would eventually be linked back to her. The guards would place her into the entire equation. This man could not guarantee her safety in any measure. She could not give way to the killing of an innocent man. Not yet, not even for her own devious ploy to escape such a life.

[Akbar]

Akbar nodded as she finished, he understood her position and why it would be dangerous to help him. He carried on working on the shoe, slowly removing the Seams from the shoes.

"You seem taken aback Lady Freya, why do you say such things? You suspect me of treason, do you not? I am not a killer! I do not wish to harm the Pharaoh in anyway. I will answer your question partly, and completely on the success of my mission. You wish to know who sent me? I can tell you now that you will probably not have heard of him. But I will tell you his story.
There is... was was a man of the Egyptian army. He served as a General for a great many years and has only recently retired. He was a family man, had three children who all went on to serve and a loving wife. Unfortunately, he lost two of his Sons in the siege of Tyre. He was never the same again, lost his mind and a few weeks later his wife to the court (suspected of treason). Some say he devoted his life from then on to the worship of Set, but it is unclear as to what really became of him. But the thing is, he is gone now. Some say dead, others convinced he is still alive. And some say it goes deeper than that. He only lost two of his three Sons, and the third Son is still among the living. He has a very interesting story to tell, and believes that his father has been taken by Pharaoh to stop him doing or saying something that he shouldn't. He believes that he is still alive and is determined to ensure that his brothers died for a greater Egypt. This Son is the man who sent me, but as you did not ask for his name I will withhold that information."
He smiled to himself openly and carried on.
"The Pharaoh will come to no harm. Nothing of our meeting will ever be known and nothing will point at you. If All works well, Pharaoh will never mention his meeting with the "Shoe maker" until the day after he dies. I am not a killer Lady Freya, I take no souls, I am a Shoe maker, the mender of souls. "

As he spoke, the soul of the shoe he had been working so intently on came off, revealing three glinting knifes, which fell smoothly into his lap. He made no attempts to hide this, he simply put the dismantled shoe down and picked up the second, starting to remove the seams on this one also.

[Lady Freya]

"Your worst enemy,” he reflected, “was your nervous system. At any moment the tension inside you was liable to translate itself into some visible symptom."

Her heart thumped in her chest. Not out of fear or passion, but sincere and utter confusion. She could not let it override her, it would only bring about her own destruction. Stupid girl. She let her snake writher about her arm as though it was a branch, it’s forked tongue tasting the air. It did not know the strange smell that lingered in the air, and it did not like strangers. It had taken awhile for the snake to adjust to the new surroundings, even longer for Freya. Still, her feet were not firmly on the ground.

She raised an eyebrow, “Did I say you were a killer?” More like a rhetorical question, cause she knew she had not. She may have implied it with her movements and curiosity, but she did not dare question his hidden trade, although she knew there must be one if he was seeking private audience with the Pharaoh. However, she allowed him to speak of the story which had led to his arrival in Egypt. Her curiosity over stepping the line further and further. Odd. It seemed what the man said had sincere truth held within it. She could not keep herself looking at his eyes, instead her own removed themselves from him quite quickly. Not intimidation, not fear. But, what? What else is there?

From the corner of her tranquil eyes she watched as three knives were revealed to her, and although it made her heart skip a beat, she had to know that he would not bring her to harm. Not while there was still information to retrieve from her. A lot of people did that, before they killed they attempted to get the information needed. It was laws of philosophy. Nothing more. She took a deep breath and let it all sink in for a moment for a moment.

“So, you wish to have a Private audience to gather whether the Pharaoh holds the third son of your master? What if you can not gain the privilege of this? The Pharaoh is never alone, so I daresay it is entirely impossible to be within his company. Do you have another plan to gather this information or was this it?”

Reckless. Foolish. Impossible. She was all these, she placed her entire knowledge at the disposal of a stranger. Her trust soaring beyond impenetrable cliffs. If he had no other plan, would she offer her assistance? Would it lead to the death of her fiancé? Would an entire downfall of the Egyptian populace come about if she was to hand herself, her entire onset of knowledge, cunningness and intelligence to a mere stranger? God only knew. Was the girl truly going insane with madness towards her father, because she despised him so. Because, she had lost the two people she loved most in the entire world. Was she able to become as corrupt as they?

Time would tell.