Two Eyes Cenote sand & lapis

The title fell from Khusobek's mouth like poisoned briars, each syllable a cruel barb that pierced through the forming cracks of the man's carefully constructed composure. The fellahin flinched as though struck, a tremor running through his frame, and for a fleeting moment, he almost wished the blow had been physical.

Please, Machiavelli growled, the plea clawing for respect yet faltering before it reached its mark, don't call me that. His hackles flared in a terrible defense, a futile attempt to shield himself from the past that was being dragged, kicking, and screaming, into the present.

He was asked to sit. Sit. Sit. The command echoed in his mind, but his body remained stubbornly immobile, muscles locked in place. The realization dawned on him with brutal clarity: how much trouble it would save the pair to kill him now and solve the whole ordeal before it even began. Muat-Riya would remain undiscovered, and the families inhabiting it would be safe. His gaze darted from the floor to the complementary pairs of eyes.

Reluctantly, he lowered his haunches to the cool floor, body tense and coiled like a spring ready to snap at any moment. His paw reached for his tail instinctively, seeking the familiar comfort, but he froze, realizing his paw was trembling. He pulled his hand back swiftly, hiding it beneath the curl of his feathered tail, and hoping the tremor had gone unnoticed.

He could feel the eyes of the pair upon him, their gazes heavy with expectation. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, and the half-breed's ears remained flattened.

A smile spread across his muzzle, the ears uncurling to sit upright upon his skull.

I ruled as the puppet monarch of Godsmouth, a kingdom far to the south, from the time I was young, Machiavelli began, his voice a silken whisper. A puppet to Herod, the Abbot, an older man with a silvering blonde coat and wheat-yellow eyes. He served as my advisor, or so it appeared to the world. In truth, he made all the decisions—who to turn away, who to help, what gods to call upon, and what rituals would best serve them.

Machiavelli leaning back, his posture relaxed and his smile widening, though the opal eyes remained alert. Herod is very powerful, but also very rich. There is a chance we could all benefit from this, and add a great amount of wealth to our Pharoah's treasury.