Neshmet awoke with a start, heart hamming in his chest like the beat of a war drum. Pale, golden eyes took in a sandstone ceiling… one that looked unfamiliar and foreign to him. He let his gaze move to the walls that surrounded him. He was in a room… but he had never remembered being here before. The stones around him seemed to glow in the dim sunlight that filtered through a large, rectangular cut-out. They appeared to be soft and tan in color... almost sparkling even in the shadows. Where… was he? He blinked, pushing himself from his position on the mat beneath him. Pain radiated down his spine and across his shoulders to work its way down his arms. Attempting to push himself to his feet resulted in more pain snaking its way into his knees and ankles. It took more than a few tries to raise himself to full height.

Every joint in his body felt stiff, as if he hadn’t moved in years. Was he...dead? This certainly didn’t look like the after life… Yet, the way everything gleamed was almost ethereal. On unsteady feet he moved to the cut-out and leaned to examine the world outside. On the streets below people in robes bustled about, darting this way and that. What they focused on seemed so important to them. He realized just how high up he was… this clearly wasn’t a normal shack. The sound of people talking, children laughing, and workers yelling reached his ears from the outside world. The noise mingled with the songs of birds and what he assumed to be insects of some sort.

Another sound found its way into the room, far closer and vastly different from the noises coming from the world below. Fear took over his body as he turned, feet scuffing painfully across the stones of the floor beneath him. A frantic attempt at escape was made… but his legs gave out beneath him and he tumbled in a heap on the floor beside the bedding mat. The distinct clack of sandals paused and Neshmet moved his gaze to the doorway. In the gap between the stones stood a tall, pale man with eyes as blue as the sea and hair unnaturally blond for the desert they lived. The locks fell messily around his shoulders and from his neck hung an amulet of bright red. He was a foreigner, perhaps…though from where he really couldn’t say.

The man stood silently for a moment, his emotionless, empty orbs resting on his face. Neshmet reached down toward where his robe had been tied around his waist last he could remember. The fabric was dry and rough beneath his fingers, tied securely in a knot at his side. Despite the confirmation he glanced down just to be sure. He let out his breath, eyes moving back to the stranger. He hadn’t moved… remaining still and stoic in the entry. Was there something on his face that warranted the strange way he stared at him? His hands absently moved up to check but ultimately found nothing out of the ordinary barring a gash across his chin. After what seemed like an eternity the man finally spoke, his voice quiet but holding an air of roughness. A faint, nearly undetectable accent coated some of his words.

“I suspect you are doing well...” It wasn’t phrased as a question so much as a statement.

“Where...am I? What am I doing here? Who are you?” He sounded frantic even to his own ears. A look of annoyance fell over the man’s face, surely at the lack of a real response to his own statement. Even so, he responded with a relatively calm tone.

“You’re in the palace.”

“The palace?” A moment passed before Neshmet really understood the weight of the words. “You mean… The… Palace…?”

“There is only one palace.” The stranger sighed, clearly annoyed and not in the mood for further incredulity from the street rat.

“Why…?”

“Because there’s only one royal family.” The man crossed his arms over his chest as if that answer were obvious. Neshmet quickly shook his head.

“That isn’t what I meant.” He huffed. The action got him a momentary glare from the blond. He swallowed… “I meant… why am I in the palace?” The man stared at him blankly for a moment, a crease between his brows.

“The prince took you in.” He finally stated, as if that were obvious too. “I do not know why... I’d have left you where you were.”

“W-What…?”

“You were on the brink of death. The prince spotted you and brought you here.”

“The prince…?” Even he could tell his face was contorted in confusion. “Why?”

“Didn’t I already say I do not know?” The man rolled his eyes. “Why should I?" He seemed almost exhausted from their short exchange. "Here.” The man extended his hand, holding out a black fabric that was neatly folded.

“What...is this?”

“A new robe.”

“But… I already have a robe...” Another look of annoyance crossed the other man’s face as his hand fell to his side.

“The one you are wearing is to be taken and cleaned… extensively.” He emphasized the word 'extensively' with a bizarre circular gesture of his free hand.

“But-”

“It is filthy.” The man sighed once more and held the robe out to him more insistently. “Just take it. I am not asking.” Without complaining any further (Mostly because he knew it would get him nowhere...) Neshmet took the robe in hand and stepped back. Without another word the mysterious man disappeared from sight, retreating down the hall. Confusion settled in Neshmet’s body as he leaned ever so slightly to look out. The man was nowhere in sight. Whoever he was he moved quickly...

Pale hands moved to untie the knot of his worn robe, mind rushing over thoughts so quickly he could barely settle on a single one. Why would the prince, someone so powerful and wealthy, help a beggar like him? He couldn’t begin to understand. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would he give him even the time of day? He should have left him in the alley. Surely, this was a dream. His addled mind was reenacting a better life. Maybe this really was the afterlife… If it was, he almost didn’t mind his death. As he tied the black robe in a sloppy knot at his hip he turned to look at the doorway once more. With light, careful steps he carried himself to it and leaned out to look down either end of the hall. He had turned his head to the right when a voice rose from the left, startling him.