Taking a turn out from among the jumble of buildings by the docks, a cloaked figure swept down the street with mighty strides. It pained him that his royal feet should have to tread the dirt of shanty places like this, it did, but every time he tried to steer his feet elsewhere, they ceased to obey him. In the long weeks since he'd been reawakened, he'd almost stopped trying. Marching down the street, he thought nothing of elbowing or shoving his lessers aside, even going to far as to toss an unfortunate Arabyan gentleman from the pier. Soon enough the gangway creaked under the boots of the Nehekharan god-king, and he boarded the ship, fashionably late. He shoot a disapproving glare from out of the obscuring darkness of his hood, at his hired ogre - he regarded the fat, reeking monster with outmost contempt. It smelled worse than a goblin, and was thicker in the head than an orc. It was a race that would make good slaves - strong and capable of eating whatever you threw at them - if only they hadn't been so appalling. How such a fat creature could even stand up without growing exhausted was beyond Sethos, despite the rather in-depth lessons he'd received in the ways of the new world.

In his personal chambers in the city of Bes Hehet, the building echoed with laughter as the city's ruler, Sinrasuli, or to address him by his full name: Amsi Kambythet Sinrasuli Tutsekani Kaldum, the Unworthy, the Late, the Bringer of Giants, Chosen, Pyre-Crowned, Grand, Voice of the Gods, Tamer of the Red, Gold of the New Age, fell back into his chair, his bones rattling in throes of rampant mirth. Before his trembling corpse stood a gilded pedestal, upon which sat a clear crystal ball from which streamed the thoughts of his brother as audible words, and whose polished surface showed the eye through Sethos' eyes. The silver voice of Sinrasuli echoed his joy at his brother's punctured pride as the mummy king clutched his stomach in laughter. He obviously felt nothing in his stomach, but some reflexes extend beyond the grave. Eventually, however, his laughter did stop, and he crawled up to sit on his throne proper. Leaning forward on the armrests, he grinned broadly at the cowled figures before his throne. The two looked to each other, and then to their master. They were the wizards who had crafted the scrying globe, and they were destined to become wealthy men before the night was through.

Unaware of his brother's sadistic espionage, Sethos put one foot before the other and swaggered past the ship's captain without a word. Though not exactly scholar material, the mummy warrior realized that asking for the royal cabin on a ship like this would be madness. Instead he found himself a quiet corner of the weather deck and sat down to brood, not even speaking a word to his loathsome mercenary.

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