Lion Head Mesa incoming

The seasons here. Mesen-ka takes each passing day as normal. He patrols, he is there for @Rashepses when he is needed, but recently it has lessened. His brothers infatuation with his wife is warmly welcomed. Will it stay? Is he happy? Was he really satisfied with his arrangement?

Well, it is nothing Mesen-ka is allowed to question. Today, he resides at his resting post not far from the Kings quarters. Quiet today.

Come dawn, he dressed in a blacktail mantle and went outside to walk along the outer walls of the mesa. A brisk spring wind was swirling through their battlements. It bathed his cheeks in crystals of sand and carried the scent of wild mare. He watched the fields below turn from blue to gold as light set upon the grassland. He wondered if in a few weeks time he’d be hunting jennet with the mazoi for his pregnant wife– if the priest’s rituals flowered her. He prayed to Taweret, then to Ra.

By sunrise he’d returned to the palace, passing the autumn coat of his favored man on the way to the throne room.

“With me, Sphinx,” the riverking commanded and swept up the steps to the hematite cathedra. He draped his arm one over the other and waited for the kingsguard to stand present before speaking again.

“How goes the search for your wife?”

Mesen-ka works through three shifts each day. One out in the morning, one in the afternoon, one in the evening, and at night he finds it hard to rest. So, he stays stationed often outside the royals quarters with an iron foot. His legs are numb by the time he goes to sleep.
Today is no different. Rashepses has come to see him. The brother stands, and follows carefully to his stride, hesitant. He could use a break anyways.
"Slow, my King." In between the space of his silence, there was an awaiting breath. "There are few to be wed."

“Disregard them,” boomed Rashepses with a broad-toothed grin. “Your wife awaits you on the banks of the flatland lake. Lady Zharille Bint-Satharra. She is said to be a woman of great physical substance.”

He looked to his kingsguard. Certainly, there would be no resistance from Mesen-ka, but the regal did not anticipate an unctuous response. It would be a pairing borne from duty, perhaps a truly vile thing to contemplate if the royal guard found himself in bed with an ugly woman. Nevertheless, there was no higher honor for a mazoi than seeding the next generation of courtiers.

“Imagine, Ka. Little knights at the side of little princes,” he laughed luxuriantly, “brothers.”

"A wife from one of the lakes?" Caution laced his voice. That is a holy tale for the guardsmen at home. It is almost foolish story to spew, and so it must be a stretch of truth, one way or another. Rashepses laughs with gold and the kings brother has a smile that turns into more of a smirk. "Why, that must be a tale for boys! I see your vision. Brothers from brothers!" Rashepses has a goal in mind. He also was very familiar with how to clasp his goals into his hands, and Mesen-ka watches clockwork. "Have you mastered the art of Matchmaking now?" And marriage.

Why Lady Zharille? How has this come to be? "Tell me more of her, brother." Importance. This matters more. "How does she relate to our people? Is she an affiliate woman from neighbors, or a royal girl of them?" Bint-Satharra is certainly not family a name he's heard of.

For a moment his smile dwindled and stopped. His face grew harder– serious.

“I know it’s not exactly the scenario you’d imagined as a boy. The fact is she is a strong, unwed woman with a claim to the North. And with the Brecheliant and moon packs to the West, and Muat-riya to the South, we need only thrust the rays of Aten to the East.” Rashepses was still in his bearing, faroff eyes thoughtful.

“This will be done in time,” he promised, “when my sons are ready to hold keeps of their own, with your's as their bannermen.”

“If this pond woman is not handsome, I will send as many girls to the lake as required to wench your desire,” his laugh returned. “She'll give you a son and let it be done."

"I am happy and appreciative of your efforts, My king!" He announces! There is a lift in his brows, and he is watching Rashepses with an intense focus.

"I could not be more grateful for the time you have set securing me a wife. I thank you for your attentiveness, for I have surely been rid of time to dedicate into courting." His paw holds close to his chest as he then bows his body. Mesen-ka rises for the prince of Ta-senet.

 "Tell me more of the woman that waits for me at the lake." They walk together, and his head lifts high as he looks down to the consort, and often around them. Nothing will mar their moment. He will make sure of it. "Are there matters I should be cognizant of going into this, brother? What is her person?" He will tear down avoidance.

“She is a simple, feral woman. She will not be persuaded by the gift of your word or precious stones. Feed her. Patrol her borders. Dispatch your rivals. She has no power. You are in full command. Do you understand?”

He could say no more of the woman who had refused to come to the palace to make negotiations. There was the possibility she’d become far less burdensome once bred, but he anticipated only more strife for Akashingo in the months to come, until the ogre children arrived in the desert, ready to be educated.

“Tame her, Sphinx,” the Consort ordered, “In whatever ways you must.” Mesen-ka was a tender man. But he was also a loyal one.

Rashepses presents unto him a feral maiden amongst all brides in the sea he could find. A warrior and a wild woman. Can she converse? Is her longing in this matter to bear offspring? Fortunate is he, for a willing wife has been discovered.
He's commanded. Mesen-ka kneels and expresses with his chest, broad as it has always been, and loyal as he will always be. "Yes, my king!" Let it be done. And so, he is his brother, and he will know what is best for him.