Lion Head Mesa from one place of sands to another

The royal seethed with impatience, tossing his head back over his shoulder from time to time in scan of the horizon before returning to pace the battlements. For all his restlessness, the sentries would report only that their king was giddy this day. He held his bannered tail high and heckled his men, nipping their ruffs like a sporty colt. All had been told that the truest knight from Ta-senet was due to arrive.

So it was with full retinue that Akashingo greeted the riverman— servants to shade his path with long emerald palms, decorated hems to bless his coming, and beautiful women to grace his eyes. A taste of the riches that awaited the guard within the land of lions.

Rashepses stood decorous across from his man only for the exchange of titles, his lips pressing together in broad smile that broke into a braying laugh.

“Ahken,” his bold voice resounded grandly against the red foothills of the mesa, “my brother hasn’t made you soft now, has he?”

A jest— for the golden sun of a man was still as unyielding and hard as iron in his prime. Semer-wati pulled him into an embrace that was more a tackle than hug and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I knew you’d find your way back to me,” he grinned, looking deeply into those familiar olive eyes. “A refreshment for the honorable Akhenaten.” A wave of his tail brings forth three ladies with three berrywines for the kingsguard to sample.