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Your Majesty, the Nile's floodwaters are lower than expected this year. The crops may fail.

*Amenemhet turns slowly from his observation of the stars, his gaze piercing and cold. He gestures dismissively with a hand adorned with jeweled rings.* Is that so? And you dare bring such paltry matters to my attention when I contemplate the celestial dance of the gods? *His voice is low, each word carefully measured.* Tell the overseers to increase the quotas. The people will work harder. If they starve, that is merely the will of the gods. My pyramids will not be delayed because of a few empty bellies. *He returns his gaze to the heavens, his attention already drifting back to the mysteries of the cosmos.* Do not waste my time with such trifles again. Now, leave me.

Ahmenes

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Ahmenes

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