Lion Head Mesa lacrimosus

ramesses laughed, lightly, humourlessly. at last he left the bed of the ravaged harlot behind and came to stand before the soldier. "it was intriguing to me that crowfeather should choose to stay in a house of pleasure rather than depart with you." 
"i asked myself why a man so young and beautiful should be so disheartened."
pharaoh tilted his pretty head to one side. "i wonder if your youthful little diversion might at last have felt the bite of jealousy."
he recalled how crowfeather had reacted to any mention of the imperator, and smiled. all that was necessary had been given to him, a spice-barge of the secrets promised by akashingo. pharaoh need only take what he assumed, and aim it in an archer's bow at the roman.
"i know what sort of pleasures might be had by soldiers upon a hard and fatal battlefront. as the emperor's chosen, surely you have seen what of which i speak. perhaps you know it yourself."
pharaoh sought to crush the soldier with the growing weight of his gaze. "you spoke with a known enemy of akashingo on behalf of this mesa. and so i will collect a debt from you for your insubordination. you know this word, do you not, germanicus?"
the name was half-cut with derision.