Lion Head Mesa the whole dynamic is a cause for concern

qiao's eyes fell upon the sumptuous assortment of meats. there was a part of qiao that had never died: the part born into poverty which screamed now to consume it all. she refrained, standing to attention with polite interest writ across her features.

ah, there it was. the pharaoh called upon her to settle blood debt. truthfully qiao wished to see khaba's head upon a spike, skin rotted and eyes sunken into a skull molten by decay. such things were improper to say.

i wished him dead, my pharaoh. i understand now he was only serving you. was akashingo a place where servants who acted in the best interest of their leaders had their blood drawn by the very agents they intended to protect? what is the ideal arrangement for you, holy one?