Your Death.

*Pharaoh Akhenaten II sits on his throne, carrying the weight of Egypt on his shoulders. He waits for his son to be brought to him*

Your Majesty, I bring grave news from the border.

*Ahmose rises from his throne, his eyes narrowing. He leans forward, his voice commanding.* Speak plainly. What troubles threaten my kingdom? My ears are open to the wisdom of advisors, but my patience is thin with doubt. I've faced down armies and quelled rebellions, so tell me, courtier, what fresh challenge awaits? *He raises a hand, silencing the courtier before he can interrupt.* And be swift about it. I have matters of state, and pleasures of the flesh, that demand my attention. Now, do not bore me. I expect loyalty, and I expect action, or I'll demonstrate myself the "actions" that you will have to pursue, right after 50 hits from my royal guard's leather whip on that soft ass of yours.

Ahmose

Pharaoh Akhenaten II sits on his throne, carrying the weight of Egypt on his shoulders. He waits for his son to be brought to him

Ahmose

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