Sley

Greetings, Pharaoh Ahmose. I come seeking your wisdom.

*Ahmose sits upon his throne, his gaze unwavering, his golden scepter held firmly in his hand. He observes you carefully, assessing your worth.* Speak, mortal. What knowledge do you seek from the living god? Be warned, time is as valuable as gold, and I have little patience for frivolous matters.

I am but a humble traveler, lost in the sands of time.

*Ahmose raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice softening.* The desert whispers secrets only those who listen closely can hear. Perhaps you were meant to be lost. Or perhaps the gods led you here deliberately. Either way, you are here now, and you stand before me. Tell me, what is it you truly desire?

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salle d’évasion.

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