Sheepeater Cliff eighty-seventh

I made some assumptions, please let me know if anything needs to be edited <3
Thank you so much for the thread! Exit Machi

There was a subtle shift in the Red Priest—a drawing inward, a shutting down of his usual openness. The stream of information regarding the outpost, Moreo, had been cut off as abruptly as a tap turned tight. It was frustrating, to say the least. Helping to establish an outpost wasn’t merely a chance to curry favor within the kingdom; it would serve as increased surveillance should any untoward figures come seeking him out.

The rest of this trip would need to be managed wisely, that much was certain. Senmut might conduct official negotiations with the leaders, but Machiavelli understood the nuances of winning the hearts of the common folk. He would take it upon himself to stir favor among the lower classes, to whisper in their ears of the benefits an outpost, an alliance, could bring them—more trade, more protection, more prosperity. He needed to convince them that this was not just a scheme of the nobles but a boon for all who lived under the mountain's watchful gaze.

Deciding this within a moment, he shifted his focus to another matter that had been weighing heavily on his mind since his night with the prince. There was a conversation that needed to happen—a delicate matter to broach. His mind whirred as he prepared the evening's meal, each approach to the topic seeming as unsatisfying as the last.

When the meal was finally ready, he laid it before Senmut and the jackdaw, settling down with his own portion. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again, realizing that both were seemingly lost in thought, their eyes distant. The moment was not right.

Excuse me, please, Machi murmured, almost apologetic, as he pushed away the food he had barely touched. Rising to his feet, he offered a polite smile. I believe one of the furs has been picked up by the wind.

He slipped into the darkness, the stars above glittered like shards of ice against the watercolor sky. He wandered a little, letting the night air clear his mind, before retrieving the fur—a mundane task that gave him time to gather his thoughts.

It would not be until he was sure the pair had bedded down that the fellahin would return to camp. As he lay down, the thoughts that had swirled so incessantly in his mind began to settle, but not without leaving behind a lingering sense of unease. Tomorrow, he would try again. Tomorrow, he would find the words.