Lion Head Mesa Akhet of two lands

Samirseti stopped short of Rashepses, the light of the sun behind him casting his dark figure in stark relief against the golden horizon. His molten gaze flickered briefly over the older wolf before dipping his head, a gesture of respect laced with purpose.

“I came to honor the will of Rahotep,” his voice flighty, flitting between octaves of grandeur and that of a snake’s poison as he bowed his head before his Uncle.

Though it burned.

“to stand before you, Semer-wati of Akashingo, and offer the strength of Ta-Senet. To offer myself to your court, in whatever way you may see fit.”

He trailed off. A flash of something ambitious, frigid consumed his eyes.

“But I may yet have an offer of my own.”

Was it not the destiny of every second son to strike out on his own?