[center][color=f26522][h2]Satiah[/h2][/color][/center]
The flames flickered, casting shadows upon the sandstone walls and their golden adornments. Concealed beneath the edge of a darkened hood, eyes of clay, imperceptibly inattentive, watched the shadows dance. Unconcerned with the trivialities of this ceremony or the impending political drivel, Satiah’s disciplined mind wandered on a flight of fancy, shaping the amorphous blobs within the mind's eye into something more entertaining:

Animal shapes.

Like that one, the one cast by the young priestess, whose loose sleeves and long, smooth hair made her silhouette look vaguely like a bird. Or that of the physician’s, whose satchel and stave evoked the ears and trunk of an elephant, if you squinted hard enough. Satiah’s own shape was far less dramatic; the tall mass of robery evoked a mountain or a blob - nothing as striking as a beast. A decent set-piece for the imaginary, makeshift play that was forming in her mind.

From deep within her robes, a hand emerged, index finger tucked, thumb and pinky spread - a perfect canine shadow puppet to accompany the other players. As they began making their way towards a different chamber, led there by the ex-concubine Iaret, Satiah bobbed and turned her hand, filling her mind with fake, poorly characterized dialogue as the shadows played out.

This did not stop when they entered the boy pharaoh’s chambers, but it did stop when that stuffy old architect - whose shadow had been cast as a cobra in her little puppet show - slithered towards the teen, to use his snake tongue to hiss a purposefully crafted introduction, and a politically-minded warning against the influence of others. Satiah frowned and shook her head. Those damned courtiers, always trying to do [i]something[/i] or another to move themselves up in the world. It wasn’t anything unexpected, granted, but it was annoying nonetheless - the guy didn’t even introduce himself first!

But before anything could be said, Satiah felt the thumping of heavy feet and a new shadow cast upon the stone. A big fellow, easily bigger than her, whose blade jutted out like the fin of a shark. By his statements, Satiah determined that that was an apt assessment - at least more apt than comparing the physician to an elephant head, and the priestess of Anubis to a bird. Despite his intimidating form however, she didn't find any need to confront him outright. Rather, the exact opposite. Simply put, the arrival of the shark - Zamonth - was adding spice to this droll conference. Where there seemed to be a hopelessly routine progression of events, there was now a deviation, a conflict. And if there was anything about conflict, it bred character - or so she'd been taught. As a result, the strategist decided against interfering, and instead silently watched it unfold, getting a good grasp of the people gathered around her. Then, when all had settled, for the first time all day, sound came from the military vizier:

[color=f26522]“Pfft.”[/color]

Satiah shuddered with stifled laughter, loose robes shifting with each chuckle. [color=f26522]“You all speak so timidly; you really [i]are[/i] suited to be viziers,”[/color] she commented. Her tone was blithe and unyielding, an utterly shameless vulgarity ill fit for the lips of someone in such a position. [color=f26522]“You know, it’s a poor adviser who can’t speak their mind. Just tell Architect Apple that he’s being an asshole and that he should suck it up and let the big the guy into our little club. At least [i]he[/i] has a backbone.”[/color]  A single hand came out, gesturing to Amenhotep. [color=f26522]“The boy clearly wants to - not that the large one is letting up - and it isn’t us that makes the rules around here.”[/color]

For some reason, that last phrase sounded a bit more forceful in tone.

[color=f26522]“But whatever happens, happens. Just make sure you do it without reservation, kid.”[/color] Satiah pulled her hood down. Notably, she didn't bow, but instead gave a little wave before tucking her hands back into her robes. [color=f26522]“I’m Satiah, a former slave representing the affairs of the military in your court. Don’t let the title mislead you - I’ve done plenty of militarying in my day, and you’ll find my platoon has a pretty high survival rate,”[/color] she puffed her chest out proudly. [color=f26522]“I’m here to make sure your army and navy are in top shape, your populace is well-attended to, and that nobody walks in, kills you in your sleep, and starts their own dictatorial rule.” [/color]

That middle one wasn’t official in any respect of the word, but Amenhotep wouldn’t know that. Besides, with all these viziers focused on laws and gods and pretty buildings, [i]someone[/i] had to promote the interests of the people this nation was built upon.

[color=f26522]"I would also like to point out that your friend’s assumptions about my combat performance are flawed and that I am more than capable of teaching or sparring with you, or beating a desert monster into submission before it-”[/color] She air-quoted the next part. [color=f26522]“-‘drags me into the Nile River, drowns me and devours my limbs while I scream and choke’ which is quite hard if I'd already drowned, but that's not the point." [/color]