Lion Head Mesa I can make your life a livin' hell

At once, the dark figure spoke down to Bayek.

The Medjay had met many wolves like this. They were focused on their titles. It was all that they were and when those titles were not respected, they often felt wronged. Bayek felt that he had offered respect in speaking only Khaba’s title. He had even offered the traditional dip of his head – a movement that he had seen other wolves practice to show their respect of authority.

Khaba wished to be the man in charge. Bayek didn’t care to take that from him. He was Medjay as much as he was Mazoi. The pious man had grown beyond the importance of titles that did not represent his spirit, his purpose in the world. Perhaps the dark Jodai was the same.

I am many things, but you are correct to say that Mazoi is one of them.

A small smile found his lips.

I have learned the halls of Akashingo. I have seen the storerooms, the sleeping quarters for both the commoners and the royal members. I have seen pieces of the catacombs. My camp is stationed on the edge of the Serpent Lake. Where the Pharaoh had asked him to stay. Bayek had already visited the borders. He was growing familiar with the landscape and the mesa’s surroundings.