The sweeping waves of the Sinai Peninsula were bathed in a golden tint as the sun hung low over the horizon. A Shekelesh tribesman of the Sea Peoples stood on the worn deck of a small ship and looked out across the ocean. It had been a long day of plundering, the thrill of raiding mingling with the scent of sweat, blood, and smoke that clung to his skin. The Shekeleshite looked out across the Sinai Peninsula, at the sharp cliffs rising sharply from the horizon, as their longship crested a wave. Behind him, the ruins of an Egyptian town they had stormed lay smoldering, its inhabitants scattered. He found pleasure in the screams of the defeated, which demonstrated the might of his people. Yet, amidst the spoils of victory, an unsettling thought gnawed at him.

“Is this the fate we seek...?"

The tribesman whispered to himself softly, wondering and pondering, calling tales of glory and conquest passed down through the generations. He was brought back to reality by the sound of metal clanging and the shouts of his fellow warriors. Enthusiastic by their loot, the raiding party gathered around a small fire to celebrate, their laughter blending with the distant sound of the breaking waves. The Shekeleshite cast their eyes over their wealth, which included ceramics, silver trinkets, and the finest textiles belonging to the coastal population. Each piece was a reminder of their dominance, yet it felt hollow.

“Samaru! Come, join us!”

One of his companions called, brandishing a goblet filled with wine, the rich red liquid shimmering in the sunlight. The Shekeleshite soon grinned smugly, his pride and confidence returning when he noticed the joyous expressions on his colleagues' faces. He just waved his hand dismissively, making his friend laugh before brushing it off as they turned away.