Hideaway Strath brazier

not a blade, but a scribe. they sat at the foot of pharaoh, recording his word and deed. many princes were sent to study with recorders as well as with priests. ramesses considered this and kynareth's cunning for suggesting such. "i will be the saints' scribe," he decided, a lift of his pretty chin determining this in the next moment.
for now, there was nothing to do but learn and lorekeep. 
kynareth was pleasant, with his smiles and laughter and sweet words, but pharaoh sensed the ability to be cruel in the grandmaster. by Amun, he would not come so close.
"i will find you again, to begin." a dip of his gold-dust crown, a flick of his plume; ramesses would wait to be dismissed and then head directly to his half-finished den — to plot.