Nobody could deny that his father had his faults. Gambling, drinking, whoring, you name it. His childhood tinged with the blood of drunken brawls after games of chance that went badly, or the soft groans of women in the brothel that was his home. No matter what the day had in store for him, Odi always looked forward to the time when, glutted with the suffering it espied below, the flaming ball was rolled off towards the Duat or wherever it was that it went, heralding the chill of darkness, heralding the telltale trudge of heavy footfalls that identified his father. “Agh there you are, you little sand jackal, hah! Set give me strength you grow taller every day the Gods grant me life, haha! Where is your mother?” Always the same question, always the same need after a hard day’s standing stiffer than an alabaster idol in the temple or Osiris. Odi would scuff the sand in habitual impatience as the song of groans was heard. As a palace guard, Fekir should have garnered sufficient pay to ensure that his favoured whore and their only offspring would be granted at least some degree of comfort; not a domicile of their own naturally, even palace guards resided within the quarters their office earned them but most could at least set aside a space for their families- a hovel perhaps, if they were spendthrift or a room in a communal building of some sort. Not so for Netu and Odion. Regardless of what the other whorespawn would say, Odi knew the truth. His father, whatever he may be, was ever a perfect devotee before the altar of his mother. “Remember boy, a woman is greater even than a God, she is the greatest thing in the whole of creation. When you find your heart’s keeper, you do whatever it takes to keep her safe, you understand neb?” Nanu might scowl at him always deferring to her wellbeing, she thought perhaps that he considered her incapable, in need of protection, but that was only half true.<br/><br/>Odion flashed his pale teeth as her stubbornness melted into grudging acceptance. “That is why you are our Queen, my princess; one who will ascend to what is rightfully yours.” He had a way of speaking that only allowed those within  a few paces of him to hear his words, a necessary defence he had had to develop the hard way amongst an urchin infested slum. Hiding a further smile behind the swathe of cloth he now wrapped over his mouth, Odi amused himself in granting the light of his existence the impression that he had been duped by her concession. How many times had he watched her from afar during banquets or royal dinners not to cotton onto her deception? It had been the imbibing of the ceremonial vintage known as The Tears of Ra that had alerted him to her duplicitous tactic. Remarking shrewdly on the number of times the other guests had had their decanters topped up with the intoxicant, it was remarkable how much liquid remained in the princess’s cup. To the casual observer, she appeared to drink deeply, display the telltale signs of inebriation, but yet, she had never had to have her drink refilled. Even with naught to fear from the cool, slightly stone-tinged draw from a village well, honed habits died hard. Odion gave his silent approval; one could never be too careful.<br/><br/>Swatting away the flea bitten ruminant which gave him an evil grumble before scampering on, Odi mused on her observation. Yes, it was altogether not like the Lady Protector to be so suddenly rash and vindictively violent with her pronouncement of guilt. Indeed, what proof was there that the princess was the culpable party in the would-be assassination plot? While there may not have been the filial warmth between step mother and step daughter as there had palpably been between the late queen and her beloved daughter, there was not exactly sufficient enmity to warrant a pronouncement of such magnitude.  Granting the milling herdsmen a sidelong scowl, Odi exploited his height and masculine physique to make it appear as though he were shepherding his beautiful young companion away from the unworthy eyes of those unaffiliated to her by family or marriage. “Indeed, forgive me, princess,  they did not teach us smuggling royalty during my martial trials.” It was a poor attempt of a joke, he could conceded as much, never having been particularly given towards displays of witty badinage. “I suggest we get off the street, you, ah, do not exactly blend in Nanu, your, uh, attire is rather… uncommon. I can hide your jewellery in Abrax’s saddle bags, but I think you might need a change, to uh, fit in.” A thought suddenly occurred to him, and a grin sliced across his face. “Also, with all due respect, my lady, a woman leading a warhorse is not exactly helping. Perhaps if you would, ah, feign subservience, I might be able to get us away from prying eyes.“<br/><br/>Given that the small desert town was within a day’s ride of the Pharaonic city, it was not altogether unknown to a man of Odi’s shrewd inclination and even as they had entered the limits of the sand-blasted domain, a plan had been taking shape in his mind. “I have a, uh, friend I know, formerly of the metropolis, who deals in wares of a domestic nature. Senu is her name, II can vouch for her, though we might not want to reveal your true identity to her. Coin is a poisoner of loyalty.  We can get street garb for you, which will help us disappear the quicker, the only thing is, you might have to shake off the role you always played. A princess would be spotted like a jewel in a dung heap, but as her, well, we could go unnoticed.”