Hideaway Strath sarcophagus

a gift? what did ramesses have to give, save from his pride and a winning tangle in the — but she did not seem that type, or available in any regard. admiring the sacrilege of silently wanting the priestess before kynareth's very eyes, he shook himself back to the present. blood. war. desire. seti had not desired either of those things, only peace in his land and for his insipid daughter to follow him upon the throne.
i am pharaoh.
but this warrior of the abbey did not speak in terms of indentured servitude. it was the way of mercenaries, and their court had never been one understood by the spoilt prince. why seek a pittance for such labour when you could demand it as a god?
but he was neither, and nor did he have exotic tribute to offer.
"i am not a fighter, noble kynareth." the underling's voice was measured, watching for the moment when the grandmaster changed from cunning to cruel, a taskmaster's whip between those heavy teeth.
what fire did the man mean?
"but i do know the importance of remembering, and of strategy. i do not think you will be displeased."