Anda suddenly rose and charged towards his own son.
That money, my money! Return my money that was sold away!
Under his impact, Aaron was knocked over and both of them fell into the tent together.
From a distance, on the high platform, Dalait who had just completed his daily prayer was startled and looked towards the direction of the tent.
Are the Romans so rude, and yet in broad daylight?
These Northern people really do not hide their emotions, so hot and intense.
It's because my beloved Andara will be parting with his young son in two days, so I want to seize every opportunity now!
What a devoted person.
Dalait couldn't help but shed tears. These priests had some empathy, allowing the rich people who donated money to believe that they truly understood their difficulties as representatives of the gods.
He ordered: "Record these scenes. I want this story to become a drama of the performance and last forever."
He then leisurely returned to his luxurious tent, where officials who had prepared papyrus scrolls awaited his audience.
The leader was the local lord of Lasvite, Modol, and the captain of the garrison guards, Gert.
Modol was a moderately muscular fifty-something-year-old bald man, and perhaps because of the climate, bald men were indeed common here.
He used to be a famous general who had defeated rebellious forces under the Pharaoh's command.
But now, with indulgence in wine, women and dogs, he was no longer able to maintain his former physique. He could still be considered a robust man but just barely.
Modol knelt down respectfully, extending his hand, seeking the contact of the priest:
"Dalait, the messenger of Sehemet. Please allow me to approach your body."
Dalait had already changed into a black sheer dress, extending his finger to gently touch, which would immediately withdraw.
"I know why you have come. Lasvite is the nearest border town to Thebes, and under emergency marching conditions, it can be reached within seven days, allowing for a response to Rome's provocation."
"Then, Modol, are you willing to sacrifice everything for the protection of Horus' land? If the situation is chaotic, your city will also become a front line."
Marum's eyelid twitched suddenly, as if there was some strange stimulation again.
Never mind. His most urgent duty now is to guard in front of the tent and protect the dignity of the emperor.
To avoid the scenes inside being known to outsiders.
He began to daydream, whether this was a war between the emperor and his son, or the fulfillment of some prophecy.
There is an old saying in Gutila: "The growth of a son begins on the day he rebels against his father."
Although based on the sound from inside, Aaron is not likely to be able to beat the old man.
In Dalait's tent, there was only the flame and the smoke of burning incense left, with no other movement.
The scent was actually somewhat pungent, as if intended to cover other odors.
The priest waited patiently for the lord's answer, without any haste.
After a while, Modol finally lifted his head, with a sense of loss, he said:
"Lasvite, we are willing to offer everything to the Pharaoh."
The priests are religious figures and refer to the Pharaoh as Horus. There is no need for Modol to do so.
Dalait nodded in satisfaction:
"Don't think about gaining any benefit from this. Loyalty to Horus is the greatest reward. You're bringing your captain of the city defenses, presumably to secure a future for him, or perhaps to plant your own people in a timely manner for the sake of understanding the war situation."
Moedel's heart was touched by what he said, and he stammered for a moment:
"It's all up to the priest."
Gert bowed his head and knelt to the ground. He wanted to become a vanguard officer and then rise to become a noble soldier of the empire, eventually becoming the ruler of a city through his war achievements.
"I'm afraid you've forgotten, Shelsu's East is on the way. To appease my anger, which has been present for several days before his arrival, I even have to sacrifice the lives of my guards to fight him." Dalait spoke helplessly, with a heavy tone and a touch of regret.
Now, he truly has a bit of reluctance to let Aaron die, otherwise the emotions that Andara has invested would have no witness.
Just a hanging head on the bed, how can that be more exciting?
Dalait drew his thoughts back, and replaced them with a bitter expression:
"East's temper, we both know, even Horus might show leniency towards him. If you and he compete for the responsibilities of war, there's a risk of being challenged by him. To this day, East has won every battle and has no record of defeat."
"The result of failure is death."
Modol had no chance of winning, and he suddenly felt that the choice of coming here with his face glued to the ground was itself a joke.
He felt as if something really stood behind Dalait, if that were the god.
Why doesn't the Horus behind the Pharaoh show his divine power and destroy those threats to the empire all at once?
Most likely unable to answer the question, Modol could only reply:
"Thank you, priest, for the reminder. We will be ready to welcome Lord East."
Alas, let's first solve the most difficult problem at hand.
Crocodile East, the most infamous priest in Egypt.
It's clear that both Dalait and East worship Sekhmet.
But Dalait is more inclined to the aspect of Sekhmet's fire and plagues.
East, on the other hand, worships war and blood, and every sacrifice must be bathed in the blood of his enemies.
It is said that East uses an axe half a man tall to chop off the heads of enemies, lifting the body up before the artery's blood has been fully ejected, holding it above his head.
Every city welcoming East's arrival must build an arena to satisfy his desire for combat.
According to East's servants, this is the fighting authority of Sekhmet God, which is refining East's will and is ready to defend Horus' empire at any time!
Modol left in a gloomy mood and immediately began to organize his servants to build an arena. It didn't need to be grand, just the central fighting platform was sufficient.
Of course, don't have any other strange ideas.
Once a city lord set the fighting platform as his daughter's bed, which led to East killing almost half of the guards in the city mansion before finding an axe suitable for women to use.
Then he struck down the pitiful girl who was holding the axe and trembling.
That's right, East never fights with someone who doesn't have a weapon, but he will find a suitable weapon for his opponents.
Aaron, who was not nose and swollen face, held Lojia's pen and drew the story of East that he had heard on the ground.
About half an hour ago, around the time Modol left.
The fighting inside Marum's tent has ended.
Aaron, with a black eye and swollen face, lay on the ground and locked his old waist to Andara, who was still hurt. They held their positions.
Fortunately, the old man is on top.
Although the current King is still far from as powerful as he will be in the future, so he would be slightly blocked by his son at this time.
After Marum announced that the morning meal was ready, the two of them released each other, arranging their robes as if the scene just moments ago had never happened.
"Family misfortune indeed." Andara rubbed his old back, actually, Aaron couldn't beat him. Even twenty more wouldn't make a difference.
He could knock him down with one hand.
But his back, having been seated for tens of thousands of years, was somewhat uncomfortable.
Some projections of the future affected him in the present.
Andara looked at his son, who was painting with all his attention on the edge, and sighed:
"All right, based on the current information, it's basically confirmed that East is a worshipper of Terror. Before the great storm arose, the demons' power was not enough, so they needed to accumulate faith through their physical bodies in reality even more."
"I just worry about whether the high-level officials of Egypt's empire have all been corrupted."
He worried about how to calmly guide humanity through this historical period.
It's time to think of another myth or hero tale to deceive human civilization?
