the air here carried the scent of rain long gone—mud drying in the sun, pine resin warmed to a faint sweetness. y'var'la lingered near the edge of their temporary camp where the forest thinned to a glade, open waters not far ahead.

she exhaled slowly, gaze tracing the low horizon where the last light bled into earth. since the meeting, her thoughts had orbited the pharaoh. not his title, but the man beneath it—she wondered, more than anything, what he made of their newly-met neighbors. the woman did not stray from him during the meeting, and tonight, she would find him again.

when she came to the water's edge where his silhouette rested, her voice was quiet. your grace, she greeted smoothly, i'd hate to think you've found peace already.

---

for Khaemwaset ! this can be backdated closer to the meeting thread if need be :)

not quite peace, scribe, pharaoh sighed. i will not wait to be summoned. you see how the air has lessened? our home stands to be rightly claimed, back in the south. but we must make the most of it while we are here.
khaemwaset turned from where he had been kicking stones into the water, wading just at the glade's edge. give me your impressions of satriya, he said softly, eyes moving from her face back into the ripples left behind upon the surface.
there must be some way to establish trade before they departed.

she stepped closer to the stream, the tips of her paws brushing the damp earth as she haunches dropping to sit with him. not quite peace good. better to be on your toes than be caught with your belly up.

eyes brimmed with gold look to her and then back to the water as he speaks, seeking insight. it has not much changed—there is great promise in it. your people are loyal, from what i've seen. her tail gave a small, thoughtful sway, give them a future that is worth the wait and it will stay that way.

how are negotiations coming with jakten coming? they had been away from home for more than a moon now—much longer since their first meeting with jakten, and yet nothing had come of besides a mere meeting. y'var'la did not pride herself on judgmentality, but the time of patience has passed. —if at all.

hmm, said pharaoh, but he was indeed listening and taking what was being said. now, give me your impressions of jakten, he asked, though there was humour in him. i imagine your knowing of them is good as my own.
a sigh, a flick of his tail. well. i do not mean to wait longer. soon i will send scouts to the obelisk, to see if it might now be inhabited. you are right, scribe. but my people must not wander all through the winter.
they must have rooms, halls, warmth, the attendance of servitude. he was restless but not impatient. y'var'la, if they are amenable, i think a marriage between they and ourselves might be useful. what is your mind on this?
he wanted to be gone, that much was plain.

jakten… y'var'la's tone thinned into thought, glancing toward the treeline. they're a strong people, from what i can tell. proud. her gaze flicked back to him, faintly wry. a faint curve touched her mouth, though not quite a smile. one of their leaders—nyra—did not seem overly charmed. she added, if she speaks for the rest of them, then there is more to do if we want to earn their favor.

it's certainly auspicious. they could agree to that point. , they are well off in numbers—it would double our strength, if they are loyal. a brief pause, then, to take satriya's approach into consideration. but without their terms before us, it’s a blade taken by the wrong edge. already we have played the part of the generous guests—go too far, and they will see us desperate.

earn their favor? khaemwaset said with a playful scorn. i am pharaoh. all of their many denizens should be grateful for my favor. a jackal's cunning grin came to life upon his face at that, but he nodded to say that y'var'la was correct. i would not be seen as desperate, but generous.
and i would not want any spy married into the palace. here is what i want: a corridor of land. a passage from the south toward jakten, guarded by us both and supported by a mutual exchange of wealth. i want shared hunting and for satriya to place altars as far south as this pathway might allow.
he spread his paws. a scarlet road. we will say it is for trade, as this is true. but it concerns also our border, and our control over it and any expansion.

y'var'la's mouth curved, not quite a smile. generous does suit you better, she agreed. the woman listened as he laid out his vision, letting this scarlet road bloom in her mind like a drawn map. it is clean, ambitious.

when he finished, she gave a small, thoughtful nod. they cannot accuse you of overreach if the land is shared, and they cannot refuse without weakening their own foothold. her tail swayed. altars along the route will make the gods a welcome companion—even those who are not yours will hesitate to challenge what looks sanctified.

after a moment, her eyes narrowed slightly—not in doubt, only calculation. a marriage would be enough to solidify it, but you should allow them to see what the scarlet road would look like first. let them imagine their hunters walking it beside ours, and the idea will take root on its own. if it entices them, they will seek to find terms—that is when i would offer it.

his scribe was quick to point out the acumen of this plan, eliciting a grin from pharaoh. he too had thought the devisement apt, for it did not demand anything from jakten, nor did it threaten. he also did not think that neither jaxxon or nyra was liable to accept a political marriage; they did not seem the sort to hand over wives. a pity for them! that was how it was done in any other civilization.
but perhaps he should not judge, nor assume. suppose those things were below pharaoh? yes. let us have phases to this plan. first our road, and trade. we will offer a regular exchange. of course, i want tribute. his eyes glinted again. that should be the third part of our goal. a road. a trade route. tribute. marriage may be part of that after all.
gleeful, pharaoh found that he was suddenly ravenous. yet there was no wish to call for a servant. have you taken any of the hunting, y'var'la? i have a taste for herons this evening.

y’var’la dipped her head, pleased to see the structure settling neatly around his ambition like fitted stone. phased steps will keep them steady, she agreed. and if they balk at tribute… well. no pack wishes to admit they are the lesser. let them dress it however their pride requires, so long as it fills our coffers.

the corner of her mouth lifted, a flicker of dry amusement. very well. we must only set a meeting, now.

at his question, her ears pricked. mmh. i would not mind going for a stretch, she rose with a long step, posture neat in motion. the night should give us good cover. she tipped her head toward the treeline. would you prefer to do the catching or the herding, pharaoh?

'so long as it fills our coffers,' pharaoh repeated with some pleasure. he was happy with the advice of his scribe, commending himself for having taken her into his confidences. we will stalk them together, he explained, warming to the hunt. when they flush, we will both leap. the one who takes three first is the champion. his eyes were gleaming in the half-light. what shall we wager, scribe?
her words would be turned over and over inside his head, but for now he was ready to face away from it now into another activity. pharaoh was young, and while the weight of a kingdom rested upon his back, he was not so old as to devote himself overmuch.
ears listened for y'var'la's answer, eyes cutting at once among the reeds.