When Mamun entered the room, Smenkhkare was already waiting for him. The soft glow of late evening bathed the chamber as light poured in through the terrace and the window, its radiance shimmering upon the mirror-like surface of the sea.

The king was sitting on a chair positioned in front of the bed, facing the door. It was a chair which usually was put by the desk, placed against the wall, near the entrance.

"I wished to speak with you, but they told me you were busy my King," the archmage remarked, his eyebrows arched slightly as he froze in the doorway. „I didn’t expect to find you in my chambers.”

"Because they couldn’t find me. As you see I’m quite busy. Busy waiting for you," the ruler responded, his penetrating gaze fixated on the old man. „I dropped everything the moment I heard about your arrival. Now tell me what you discovered.”

A chuckle escaped Mamun's lips before he took a step forward, turned, closed the door, and finally faced his king once more. "I would like to say the same to you. I wish to know everything about the terms proposed by the pirates for the return of the princess. As for your request…" Mamun sighed heavily. „I wrote it already in several letters my king. I don’t know why you insisted on prolonging the investigation. After a week I could tell you just as much as I can tell you now. They didn’t leave any traces. There was no reason for me to stay there for two months.”

"Of course there was!" Smenkhkare snapped, briefly rising from his chair before regaining his composure and sinking back down. "My children were killed! The heirs to the throne… We can’t leave a stone unturned.”

"I understand your fury, my king, but I knew everything after the first week. There was no reason to continue. My time would be better spent if you allowed me to sail with the diplomats." Mamun pointed out, moving deeper into the room. He directed his footsteps toward a cabinet beside the desk, opened it, retrieved a bottle of wine and two chalices, and then poured a generous amount into each. „Now please tell me what news did they bring.”

"As if you don't already know," the king snorted.

"I do know," the old man admitted, turning around to offer one of the chalices to the ruler.

Smenkhkare declined by raising his hand. "There is nothing to celebrate."

"I meant it as a way to drown our sorrows, my king."

The king sighed, accepting the chalice. „The offer they brought is ridiculous. I can’t agree. I’m thinking of sending the envoy back with a group which will secretly rescue the princes, while the diplomats create a distraction.”

"This might end up with the sacrifice of the diplomats,” Mamun pointed out before taking a sip from the chalice.

„It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to accept. The return of the princess is too important,” Smenkhkare said with a serious expression.

„The houses will be furious… But you are right. The return of the princess is of utmost importance,” the old man agreed, slowly nodding.

„We will quench their fury. It’s better to ask for their forgiveness than for their approval, so keep this a secret.”

„Of course, but allow me to be rude enough to insist I would go with them. Not officially, but rather under disguise. I’ll ensure the princess gets rescued,” Mamun promised, before taking another sip of the wine. As he looked at the king, there was a smile adorning his lips.

„Very well. I’ll let you know when I have the details arranged,”  Smenkhkare said while getting up. He put the chalice with his portion of the alcohol on the chair, then left the chamber.

The archmage observed him carefully until the door closed, and then his eyes drifted toward the untouched drink. He watched it for a moment, thinking deeply while slowly drinking the portion of alcohol he poured into himself. As he finished, he sighed, putting the chalice aside, then he went to grab the chair, and the drink he poured for the king.

He put the chair back by the desk, while the chalice ended on the desktop, right next to the empty one. Then he grabbed a clean sheet of paper, a quill, and some ink, and began writing a letter.

One of many, he prepared for several hours, eventually having to light a few candles to illuminate the now-dark interior of his room. When everything was ready to be sent, he called for a servant, who quickly appeared, knocking on his door.

Mamun stood up to open the door for him

„You called Sir?” a teenage boy said, with his gaze focused on the stone floor.

„Yes,” Archmage confirmed, quickly grabbing the folded and sealed letters, to give them to the boy. „Take them to the sending tower,” he instructed.

„Yes,” with his hands full, the boy awkwardly nodded, before rushing away, through the dark corridor.

Mamun sighed before he closed the door. He went deeper into the chamber to pour himself another drink. With the chalice in his hand, he headed for the terrace, where he stopped, gazing out into the night. The sun had long vanished, and the night sky was adorned with stars that twinkled like precious diamonds. The gentle sea breeze tousled his beard as he fixed his gaze upon the distant horizon.

"You've taken something from me, but I'm going to take it back," he muttered to himself, his voice carried away by the wind. Siping the wine he contemplated about the upcoming journey to save the princess. Several minutes in, the cold wind became too annoying for his aged bones, so he emptied his chalice and then returned to the room. He put it away before undressing and slipping into the comfort of his bed.

With his mind still focused on the plans, he closed his eyes, tiredness taking over. Forcing him to drift away, despite all the thoughts swirling in his head, which faded away.

The silence enveloped the room, lasting for a long time. A profound stillness settled in, only to be disturbed by a shadow stealthily emerging from underneath the bed. Sa'di Najjar, a knife clenched between his teeth, clad in attire darker than the night itself, crept toward the sleeping old man. His eyes burned with a seething hatred; revenge was within his grasp.

"My king! My king!" a young servant burst into the dining hall, interrupting Smenkhkare's meal with his three concubines. The servant hastily dropped to his knee, his gaze lowered in reverence. "My king, I have bad news."

Sunlight streamed into the chamber through the terrace, illuminating the room and bringing along a cool, refreshing sea breeze on this already scorching day.

The long table endured the weight of an extravagant feast. Platters of assorted fruits, succulent meats, freshly baked bread, fish, and an assortment of cheeses adorned its surface. Jugs brimming with the sweetest wines completed the opulent display.

"Speak!" the ruler commanded, rising slowly from his chair. His penetrating glare fixated on the trembling servant, who seemed to shrink under his gaze.

"My king... The archmage is dead. He was found in his chambers, his heart pierced by a knife!"

"What?!" The ruler's voice reverberated throughout the room, causing the concubines to gasp in alarm. Smenkhkare, driven by emotion, began pacing in a small circle, his eyes narrowing as he stopped to turn his attention back to the servant. "Who did this?!"

"Nobody knows, my king. Nobody was in the room. We didn't even find the weapon, only the body drenched in blood."

"I want the guards to secure the palace! Deploy soldiers to patrol the streets! Assemble the finest minds to solve this case! Find me that damn murderer!" His voice thundered with authority before he stormed out of the hall.