Lion Head Mesa Thárros

Arsenio listened intently as the little desert creature moved about, digging and unearthing roots of various size and scent. Jawahir seemed to be one of the Pharaoh’s devoted, which made enough sense for the Greek to accept the other’s words at face value. Most of the Fellahin, he assumed, would be of a similar mindset and would worship the mesa’s ruler unquestioningly.

The question was reversed to the guard. Arsenio peered thoughtfully at Jawahir’s work; his tail swayed easily from side to side. The question was simple, but the redstone wolf knew that he would be required to be tactful with his response. If he was not careful, the Fellahin would flutter back to their Pharaoh and would whisper any number of things into the ruler’s ear.

The Pharaoh is like a stone falling into the ocean, fearsome and frightening, intense, and dangerous, he blathered for a moment. He has been good to me here. I have hope that I might bring my family to Akashingo because of him. Arsenio nodded his head many times, smiling dumbly.

Yes, I think I like him. Until he gives me reason not to, which he has not. Then, he laughed.