Nakhtmin cantered to the demands of his Pharaohs. A stranger could be many things — news, trade, friend... or foe. But a foolish foe it would be to challenge the might of their contingent!

Gold-banded saber-horns tossed high glinted in the light of dawn, the promise in them plain. He snorted a warning through his nose as he approached, dark eyes narrow with suspicion, bright with cunning. Many saw an Oryx and thought of a feast. Many had been proven wrong at the point of his spears. None would threaten his sacred charge while he yet drew breath. Better his fierceness discouraged any testing.

Name yourself, stranger, for you approach gods! He demanded, jeweled accoutrements proving more importance to him than a raving herdbeast, Bow swiftly to the might of Pharaoh.