Lion Head Mesa Anísychos

A male’s voice sounded softly, drawing the gaze of the burly guard to a figure painted in colors of auburn and stone. They were sleek, built like the beautiful wolves that the Pharaoh kept hanging around his figure at all hours. Arsenio realized that he did not know this wolf’s name. He did not know how long the fine-featured man had resided in Akashingo.

Did it matter when he sole task was to protect the queen? No, but it did not stop the misthofóros from being curious.

Kaló apógevma, Arsenio returned in greeting. The Greek drew his head upward and blinked softly toward the other man, tracing the outline of the wolf’s frame with a sharp glint in his eye. The Pharaoh was fond of pretty things, this much was evident. It was remarkable how many the ruler had found to fill his halls. Were fair young wolves seeking to pledge themselves to a greedy king or was Ramesses truly that charming?


Should a guard not be tense? Arsenio laughed rowdily.