Three days passed.
For the first time since becoming recruits, the children lived something resembling ordinary lives.
No battles.
No missions.
No bloodshed.
Only cities.
Only people.
Only Egypt.
And slowly, each of them began seeing the kingdom they claimed they wanted to protect.
Bubastis
The City of Bastet
Magnolia and Emma wandered through crowded streets lined with colorful banners.
The annual Festival of Bastet had begun.
Music echoed between buildings.
Performers danced atop raised platforms.
Children chased painted cats through the marketplace.
Magnolia watched everything carefully.
A few weeks ago he would've ignored all of it.
Focused only on training.
Focused only on surviving.
Now he found himself noticing details.
An elderly woman feeding stray cats.
A father teaching his son how to carve wood.
A merchant giving free bread to hungry children.
Small things.
Human things.
The kinds of things war never talked about.
Emma suddenly stopped walking.
Magnolia almost bumped into her.
"What?"
Emma pointed.
A small gathering had formed around a storyteller.
Children sat cross-legged in front of him.
Listening intently.
The old man smiled as he spoke.
"The gods gave humanity many gifts."
One child raised his hand.
"Which gift was the best?"
The old man laughed.
"A difficult question."
The children leaned closer.
The storyteller thought for a moment.
Then smiled.
"Choice."
Several children looked confused.
The old man continued.
"Without choice, nothing else matters."
The crowd fell silent.
Magnolia did too.
The words lingered.
Choice.
His entire life had been planned by others.
The Pharaoh.
The palace.
The war.
Even his contracts.
How much of his life had truly belonged to him?
Emma noticed his expression.
"What are you thinking about?"
Magnolia stared at the storyteller.
Then answered honestly.
"I don't know."
That answer surprised even him.
Khemenu-Aset
Matthew was having the greatest week of his life.
Which was unfortunate for Amelia.
Because Matthew refused to stop talking.
Ever.
"Did you know they have merchants from six different nations?"
"Matthew."
"And did you know some of them worship completely different gods?"
"Matthew."
"And did you know-"
"Matthew."
He finally stopped.
Amelia sighed.
"Please breathe."
Matthew laughed.
They stood overlooking the harbor.
Hundreds of ships filled the docks.
Different flags.
Different cultures.
Different languages.
Yet somehow everyone managed to coexist.
Matthew watched the activity below.
Then grew unexpectedly quiet.
Amelia noticed immediately.
"What now?"
Matthew pointed toward the harbor.
"Look."
A Greek merchant helped unload an Egyptian vessel.
Nearby, Egyptian workers helped repair a foreign ship.
No arguments.
No conflict.
No hatred.
Just cooperation.
Matthew smiled.
A thoughtful smile this time.
Not his usual carefree one.
"I used to think everyone needed to become the same."
Amelia raised an eyebrow.
"And now?"
Matthew folded his arms.
"Maybe they don't."
The realization felt important.
His dream wasn't changing.
It was maturing.
Abydos
Sous sat beneath a large sycamore tree while Moxie slept nearby.
Luna had left earlier to gather supplies.
For the first time all week, Sous found himself alone.
Which gave him entirely too much time to think.
Moxie's words returned to him.
Thank you.
Two simple words.
Yet they had affected him more than any battle.
Justice.
Judgment.
Protection.
Responsibility.
The concepts continued shifting inside his mind.
A shadow appeared overhead.
Sous looked up.
An old man stood there.
The man carried no weapon.
Only a walking stick.
"You look troubled."
Sous sighed.
"Do I?"
The old man laughed.
"Terribly."
Without permission, he sat beside him.
The two watched the city together.
Eventually the old man spoke.
"You're one of the Pharaoh's recruits."
Not a question.
A statement.
Sous nodded.
The old man pointed toward Moxie.
"You helped her."
Another statement.
Sous frowned.
"How do you know?"
The old man smiled.
"People talk."
Fair enough.
The man looked toward the city.
"You know, when I was young, I thought justice meant making bad people suffer."
Sous immediately looked at him.
The old man chuckled.
"I can see that caught your attention."
"It did."
The old man nodded.
"Then I got older."
He pointed toward a nearby family.
Parents.
Children.
Grandparents.
All laughing together.
"I realized justice is keeping good people safe."
Sous stared.
The old man continued.
"Punishment matters."
His voice softened.
"But protection matters more."
Then he stood.
Preparing to leave.
Sous quickly called after him.
"Who are you?"
The old man smiled.
A knowing smile.
"Someone who spent too long asking the same questions you're asking now."
Then he walked away.
Leaving Sous alone.
And thinking.
Again.
Neb-Desheret
The Red Throne
General Saijew entered the archives once more.
This time with purpose.
His instincts rarely bothered him.
When they did, they were usually right.
The room remained empty.
Silent.
Dust floated through rays of sunlight.
He returned directly to the records.
The altered transfer documents.
The missing names.
The inconsistencies.
He compared dates.
Locations.
Ages.
Family records.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Hours passed.
Then something appeared.
A pattern.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But present.
Certain recruits seemed connected.
Not through blood.
Not through birthplace.
Through timing.
Every inconsistency led back to one period.
One year.
One set of records.
One administrative overhaul ordered directly by the Pharaoh.
Saijew stared at the documents.
Thinking.
The conclusion remained incomplete.
Yet the feeling returned.
That same feeling.
The feeling that a piece of the board had moved.
And nobody noticed.
The old general slowly closed the scroll.
For now, he needed more information.
Not accusations.
Information.
The distinction mattered.
Very much.
Greece
Valerie stood atop the sanctuary wall.
Watching the mountains.
Watching the horizon.
Watching everything.
Calix approached carrying a newly drawn map.
"The scouts returned."
Valerie looked over.
"And?"
Calix didn't answer immediately.
Which immediately worried her.
"There are more."
Valerie's expression hardened.
"How many?"
"We found six separate observation points."
The silence that followed was dangerous.
Because neither twin was frightened easily.
Yet this frightened them.
Someone had been watching.
Not once.
Repeatedly.
Systematically.
For days.
Maybe weeks.
The realization settled heavily between them.
One of the younger children approached.
A small girl no older than eight.
"Are we leaving again?"
Valerie looked down at her.
Then toward the mountains.
Then toward the dozens of children depending on them.
She already knew the answer.
"We leave at sunrise."
The little girl nodded sadly.
Then walked away.
Calix stared toward the horizon.
Something was coming.
Neither knew what.
Neither knew when.
But they could feel it.
The same way sailors sensed storms before clouds appeared.
And somewhere beyond those mountains…
someone was already preparing to move.
Night settled over the mountains of Greece.
The sanctuary had grown quiet.
Most of the rescued children slept beneath old stone archways and worn temple roofs. Small fires crackled throughout the ruins, casting orange light against weathered marble.
Far from the others, three recruits sat together atop a broken section of wall overlooking the valley below.
Valentina.
Kibo.
Abraham.
For once, nobody spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable.
It was thoughtful.
A silence born from having too much to think about.
Eventually Kibo broke it.
"So…"
He tossed a pebble over the edge.
"Are we kidnapped?"
Valentina snorted.
Abraham adjusted his glasses.
"Technically?"
"Yes."
"Comforting."
Abraham ignored him.
"Though they haven't harmed us."
"They haven't imprisoned us."
"And they've fed us."
Kibo groaned.
"Abraham."
"I'm serious."
Valentina rested her arms against her knees.
"We're still not free to leave."
"True."
The conversation died again.
Below them, distant torchlights flickered throughout the countryside.
Greek villages.
Greek homes.
Greek people.
A completely different world than the one they knew.
Kibo watched the lights.
"It doesn't look that different."
Valentina nodded.
"That's because people are people."
Abraham looked toward the horizon.
"The architecture is different."
"The language is different."
"The gods are different."
"But everyone still wakes up."
"Works."
"Eats."
"Raises children."
"Complains."
Kibo laughed.
"Complains?"
"That's universal."
Even Valentina smiled.
Humanity, apparently, remained humanity no matter which god watched over it.
After a while Kibo spoke again.
"What do you think about Greece?"
Abraham considered the question.
"A beautiful place."
Valentina nodded.
"The people seem decent."
"The villages seem peaceful."
Kibo looked down.
"Then why does something feel wrong?"
Neither answered immediately.
Because they understood exactly what he meant.
Finally Abraham spoke.
"Because they lied."
Silence.
Kibo stared at him.
Abraham continued.
"They took us without permission."
"They separated us from our people."
"They told us Egypt was evil before asking what Egypt was actually like."
Valentina slowly nodded.
"That's what bothers me too."
The wind moved through the ruins.
For a moment all three sat quietly.
Thinking.
Then Valentina looked toward the sanctuary.
Toward the dozens of rescued children sleeping below.
"Those children needed help."
"Absolutely."
"No argument."
Kibo agreed immediately.
"They saved them."
Abraham nodded.
"They did."
"But helping people doesn't automatically make every action right."
The words lingered.
Because they were true.
Life wasn't simple.
Neither side was entirely clean.
Neither side was entirely innocent.
Which made everything harder.
Kibo leaned back.
"I thought Greece would be different."
"It is."
"No."
He shook his head.
"I mean morally."
Neither Valentina nor Abraham answered.
Because they had expected the same thing.
The mysterious Greeks.
The enemy nation.
The people opposing the Pharaoh.
Somewhere deep down, they expected clear answers.
Heroes.
Villains.
Something simple.
Instead they found people.
Flawed people.
Just like everyone else.
Valentina stared toward the moonlit mountains.
"I don't think Greece is evil."
"No."
"Neither do I."
Abraham folded his arms.
"But I don't think they're right either."
Kibo looked at him.
"Right now?"
Abraham nodded.
"Right now."
"They kidnapped children."
"They took recruits from another nation."
"They've been watching Egypt for months."
"Maybe years."
"And they refuse to explain everything they know."
Valentina looked toward the sanctuary entrance.
Where Valerie stood watch.
"I like Valerie."
Kibo nodded.
"So do I."
"Same."
Abraham sighed.
"But liking someone doesn't make them correct."
The three fell silent once more.
Eventually Kibo spoke again.
"What about the Pharaoh?"
That question carried considerably more weight.
Valentina answered first.
"I don't trust him."
Abraham laughed softly.
"Nobody trusts him."
"Even the people who follow him don't trust him."
Kibo grinned.
"Fair."
Valentina's smile faded.
"But…"
Abraham raised an eyebrow.
"But?"
She looked down at her hands.
"He gave me purpose."
The admission surprised even her.
"I don't agree with everything he does."
"I don't even know if he's a good person."
"But he gave me a chance."
"A future."
"A contract."
Her voice grew quieter.
"My family would've starved."
Neither boy argued.
Because they knew similar stories.
The Pharaoh was complicated.
A ruler.
A manipulator.
A protector.
A liar.
Sometimes all at once.
Abraham looked toward the stars.
"I respect Saijew more."
That immediately earned agreement.
Kibo nodded first.
"Definitely."
Valentina followed.
"He actually listens."
"Exactly."
Abraham adjusted his glasses.
"When people speak to the Pharaoh…"
"They're speaking to a ruler."
"When people speak to Saijew…"
"They're speaking to a person."
The distinction mattered.
A lot.
Kibo smiled slightly.
"He's basically everyone's grandfather."
Valentina laughed.
"He'd hate hearing that."
"He absolutely would."
For the first time all night, the tension eased.
Then Kibo looked toward the sky.
"What about Magnolia?"
Abraham immediately groaned.
"Oh no."
Valentina laughed.
"What?"
Abraham pointed at Kibo.
"He's obsessed."
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
Kibo rolled his eyes.
"Whatever."
Valentina smirked.
"You brought him up."
"Because he's weird."
Abraham nodded.
"That's fair."
The three shared a brief laugh.
Then Abraham became serious.
"I think Magnolia cares more than anyone realizes."
Valentina nodded.
"He fights like he has something to prove."
Kibo looked thoughtful.
"No."
"Something to protect."
The distinction surprised both of them.
Yet neither disagreed.
Because it felt accurate.
Magnolia never seemed motivated by glory.
Or power.
Or status.
Everything he did felt personal.
Like every battle carried a weight nobody else could see.
Abraham leaned against the stone.
"Whatever happens next…"
"He's going to be important."
Valentina nodded.
"So is Poison."
"So is Emma."
"So is Matthew."
"So are all of us."
The wind passed through the ruins again.
For a moment none of them spoke.
Then Kibo looked toward the distant east.
Toward Egypt.
Toward home.
"I miss them."
Nobody laughed.
Nobody teased him.
Because they all did.
Even now.
Even after seeing Greece.
Even after everything.
Egypt remained home.
Flawed.
Complicated.
Sometimes cruel.
Yet home nonetheless.
Abraham finally stood.
"We should get some sleep."
Valentina rose.
Kibo followed.
Before leaving, the three glanced east one final time.
Toward a kingdom struggling beneath secrets.
Toward friends searching for them.
Toward a Pharaoh none of them fully understood.
And despite everything they had seen in Greece…
despite every doubt…
every question…
every uncertainty…
they all reached the same conclusion.
At least for now.
They belonged to Egypt.
And whatever truth waited at the end of this conflict…
they intended to find it themselves.