Lion Head Mesa the oracle told him to beware the Ides

Even the dawn after he was received by Akashingo, he did not rest.

No, the eagle son was training. The first Fellahin to meet his eye had become a sparring partner, though he was well aware he was laying the poor coyote out more often than not. The boy tossed his head after the final time, frustration evident, and the poor servant was allowed to scamper away.

He shook himself, morning dew clinging to his fur as the sun’s first rays finally reached him. In that moment, looking at the sunrise, he wondered if his father looked at it from his canyon seat, if they looked upon the same sunrise, the same sunset.

Aquillius felt worlds away.

she watched as he seemingly walloped a fellahin time and time again. she could stop it, but she did not such thing. only watched his work and wondered why he had picked someone less than all to train against.

men.

she stood tall now with the poised spine of tactician and pharaoh. perhaps want lingered in the blue of her gaze. especially as he looked off towards reaching rays of Ra.

mazoi, her voice hung in the air.

His single eye turned to the bright coat of the Pharaoh in the glare of the sun, having to near squint to see her. Aquillius turned to regard the woman with cool eyes.

Pharoah. He greeted lowly, rasped with the dust that lingered in his throat.

You are awake early. He thought royal types would stay in bed with silks draped across their stomachs and wine on their breaths.

But she had been of Mereo, for a time. Perhaps a soldiers routine sorted this ruler better.

was it early? she had only been grateful to break through dreams into the morning. with senmut gone to fetch khaba, it felt important to be...here. awake. mingling.

you are too. she noted with the barest hint of humor.

barracks not to your liking?

He chuffed with little humor, the barest hint of a smile at his lips.

I wake before the dawn. It is routine for me. He responded, giving a quick, rough shake. For just a moment, all the dust lifted from his black fur to mingle in the air with the dew, before it was gone.

It would be back within the hour, he was sure.

The barracks are as needed. Akin to what he remembered of Mereo’s.

of course it was, son of roman! yet she did not bark this at him. only a knowing look in her gaze as she watched the dust of akashingo leave him.

the fellahin are better as servants than body shields. find one to prepare your barracks in a proper fashion.

she moved a few steps closer. to better see his scars in the sun and admire the build of a new mazoi. have you ever been ranger? ambassador? she vetted him now.

Aquillius raised a brow, but did not comment, merely noted it down in his head. The small, pathetic thing he’d beat down wasn’t a fellow soldier then, merely a servant.

He would have to apologize. No use in thinking he was some form of brute.

His eye focused on Makono, then, as she came close.

Ranger. I have been that. He replied with a low note. His father was before him too, and he knew the lands of Mereo’s canyon well, just as he had learned much about Sweetharbor’s island. He wasn’t much a talker to be a diplomat, but he did not say that aloud.

i will instruct you to speak with the yaret. a medjay. let bayek explain it to the newest. the man was capable in that regard as well.

there are tasks fitting rangers that should be done in the coming days and weeks. her eyes warm upon him now. for but a moment, before they snapped to look out over the land. her land. she, pharaoh.

she moved in the direction of a wellspring and looked to see if he may follow.

The yahret, whatever that was, would have tasks for him. Aquillius puffed out a little breath, which was, for him, the equivalent of throwing up his hands and leaping for joy.

The pharaoh moved away, but she looked over to him. He made an assumption that meant he was to follow.

So he did, after a moment’s hesitation, striding at a soldier’s march after the woman, though it felt ill-fitting. He had the feeling of being a boy wearing his father’s armor, hanging off his arms, helmet slipping from his head to dangle beneath his chin like a bucket, greaves falling to armored shoes with a clang.

but she carried the shadow of her father well. molded entirely in his image, born for this very thing whether they had expected it or not.

and she would carry them in silence to the wellspring. where the water was frigid but well tended always. there were far and few faces around, but she gestured towards the water now. more focused upon this moment.

it is good for the muscles.

now she watched him.

Cold water.

He knew this trick, had used it before, knew how the cold fingers would sink into skin and sinew and relax them. He slipped silently from the side of the pharaoh, and into the cold water of the wellspring. Once in, he would dunk his entire body, starting with his stomach, then taking a breath and ducking his head in as well.

It shocked him to even fuller wakefulness, and in the brief moments where water filled his senses, he briefly remembered his near drowning. Dread filled his chest, but he came back up blowing water like a whale, snorting from his nose like a commander’s prized warhorse. Now dripping, he looked to Makono with a silent question.

Was she going to enter too? Or would she just watch him bathe?

she watched him in a comfortable silence. she wondered what had taken half his sight, marred his shoulder. she wondered if he had crumbled under the shadows of @Germanicus legacy in the canyon. it was not a particularly kind line of thought to place upon her newest.

if you are to go out to range the wilderness to our west, how long will you need to be ready?

she seated herself, shoulders back. staring down the near man in the water. his answer did not matter in true weight. it would be her and the medjay who decided his departure — or if he might even be fit for the task!

He had said he was a ranger, and to ranging he would go it seemed. He cast his head back a bit, blowing water out of his eyes.

In that moment, perhaps, he resembled more pouting wet rat of an emo teenager than he was soldier, but the image dissipated as he pushed himself into a standing position, sludging a little deeper into the water to let it lap at his scarred shoulder.

A day or two, at most. He kept an ear towards Makono as he turned to duck his shoulder, well aware she was on his blinded side.

two days.

she eyed him with her jeweled gaze. admittedly she saw no reason to send him off until senmut returned with the jodai. why would she wish to put herself down mazoi again?

you will be told when it's time to leave. she decided with a soft, icy exhale. he looked like a boy in these moments. soaked to a lanky core that pointed out all the ways he had still not grown in full. this was the great son of the roman? his father was hard muscle and —

she stood now. she could have flexed her own muscles like a pompous ass. she would spare him the display and the soft ego in her belly of a roman son doing her bidding.

she did not need to say she was needed elsewhere. her posture and look said it all. it was time for her to depart from him.

She was to leave. 

Very well, thought the eagle son. No great loss to him. He rather enjoyed being alone. At least after this, he would take to the borders to do just that.

He dipped his head in response to her final statement.

Pharaoh. The faint clang of fist meeting armor.

Then, up he came to slosh out of the water, striding a respectable distance before he shook out his fur, not wanting to wet the coat of his new leader.