Lion Head Mesa I'm just a random wolf, looking for adventure

Another day, same as the rest.
A fellahin serving her breakfast, a morning bath, a pace of the halls. An early shift in the catacombs. And then, as always, a sweep of the borders. Zaahira was a dutiful Mazoi, if anything.
Nearly a month has passed, now, since she was officially tucked under the Queen's wing. Her Common had improved, her posture — the luxuries of Akashingo were becoming normalcy, and yet they were never taken for granted. How far she had come!

But one can never fully escape the past.

While keeping guard near the steppes, she was met with a muted-golden pelt that dared to trespass. One she recognized all too well. His self-importance had resulted in Selena's death — though she supposed, at the end of the day, no one was truly to blame except for Khaba.
So she does not attack instantly. The Queen would not want her sands painted scarlet without due reason. Instead, she comes forth in a proud march, stoic, hardened, as if she did not know him at all. You have reached the Palace of Akashingo, ruled by Divine One Muat-riya Isetnofret Toula. State your business.