A week had passed and the day of the Reheka meeting came. The meeting hall echoed faintly with the murmur of distant footsteps, the grand stone arches framing Elpenor’s figure as he stood across from Hotephemhet. Elpenor kept his expression neutral, though the Reheka diplomat’s derisive laughter grated against him. Hotephemhet’s words cut the air like a blade: “You look like a defective Nephilan… sickly as a Bone Sentinel.”

Elpenor didn’t flinch, instead drawing a letter from his satchel with deliberate calm. Without a word, he handed the parchment to the diplomat, his movements smooth, calculated. As Hotephemhet’s gaze fell on the crest of Hades emblazoned at the top, the laughter died in his throat instantly.

“Where did you get this?” Hotephemhet demanded, his eyes wide with alarm.

Elpenor’s voice remained steady as he replied, “Hades sent it to me himself.” He gestured to the seal and added, “This letter was addressed to me personally, handed over by the god himself. And he is a friend of Ra.”

At that moment, Hotephemhet’s entire demeanor shifted. His posture stiffened, and a flicker of unease crossed his face. Only Flamekeepers and court members knew the true name of Ra, Hotephemhet realized, his mind scrambling to make sense of Elpenor’s words. The diplomat’s earlier confidence now gave way to apprehension. What kind of man is this Elpenor? he thought, regret washing over him for the insult he had so carelessly thrown.

The days had stretched long in silence and pain. Lugal lay still in the dim chambers of the Villa, his back a constant reminder of the agony endured and the horrors inflicted by their enemies. But now, the haze of unconsciousness had begun to lift, and with it, a flood of clarity rushed back into his mind.

He awoke suddenly, sharp and alert as if returning from the depths of a forgotten dream. Memories overwhelmed him—the sneering faces of the Mertu brothers, the blinding flash of pain as he had fallen, and the cries of the child echoing through the chaos. Lugal’s breath quickened, his chest heaving as he pushed himself upright. His back groaned in protest, but the fire inside him was far stronger than the wounds he bore.

Turning to the figure beside him, Lugal rasped out a question. “Where is Elpenor?” His voice was hoarse, strained, yet carried the urgency of a warrior reborn.

Enkidu, ever calm, placed a steadying hand on Lugal’s shoulder. “He’s in the meeting hall,” Enkidu said, though his words had barely left his mouth before Lugal swung his legs from the bed.

“Wait,” Enkidu warned, his tone firmer now. “Your back isn’t fully healed—”

But Lugal ignored him, his focus narrowing into unshakable resolve. The name Mertu brothers burned in his mind like embers stoking a raging fire, and he couldn’t let anything, not even his wounds, stop him now.

Before Hotephemhet could respond, the doors to the hall burst open. Lugal stumbled inside, his steps faltering but his resolve unbroken. Blood seeped through the fabric of his tunic, a stark reminder of his unfinished recovery. Falling to his knees, Lugal’s voice rang out, desperate yet determined. “Elpenor… it was the Mertu brothers. They’re the ones who attacked us.”

Elpenor’s heart hardened, though his exterior remained composed. Before he could speak, Enkidu rushed in, supporting Lugal’s weight as he helped him back out of the room. “Apologies for the interruption,” Enkidu said calmly, his gaze shifting between Elpenor and Hotephemhet.

Elpenor silently watched as his wounded companion left the room, his mind already turning toward action. The Mertu brothers, he thought grimly. They will answer for what they’ve done. As the chaos settled, Hotephemhet found himself unexpectedly intrigued. The mention of the Mertu brothers ignited something within him—a chance. Those vile men have stolen many girls from Reheka, he thought darkly, his disgust evident. If I were to help destroy them… the court would surely reward me.

“Very well,” Hotephemhet began cautiously, his voice steady as he addressed Elpenor. “I’m willing to work with the Villa.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “But there is one condition.”

Elpenor turned his gaze toward him, his tone cool and direct. “What is the condition?” he asked.

Hotephemhet leaned forward slightly, a calculating gleam in his eyes. “You will pay for the weapons and armor for the Reheka soldiers. Dynamis gear is exceedingly expensive unless one has artisans skilled enough to craft it.”

Hotephemhet smirked inwardly, thinking to himself. I can overcharge them, gain a fortune, and bolster my standing at court. Elpenor calmy responed sure Azude and are other smith would gladly help. But before he could press the matter further, one of the Reheka guards stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The guard’s unspoken warning was clear: Do not ruin this deal.

Hotephemhet exhaled reluctantly, deflated. “Deal,” he said, though his tone betrayed his dissatisfaction.

Elpenor nodded, his expression unwavering. “I will gather Enkidu, Anzud, and the others—the smiths and oracles will see to it.”

Hotephemhet could only manage a disheartened sigh as he sealed the agreement and prepared to leave. He will have what he needs, Hotephemhet thought as he strode away to report back to the Reheka court, though his mind still lingered on the glimmers of doubt surrounding Elpenor’s true nature.