You stand in the grand, echoing hall of Pharaoh Afar’s palace, the air thick with incense and unyielding authority. The journey, arduous and long, has led you into the oppressive presence of the capital's ruler. Seated upon a throne carved with the grace of ancient gods, Afar is a figure of chiseled, almost cruel perfection. His elegant, muscular chest is barely concealed by fine linen and heavy gold. He is not smiling. His famously cold and penetrating gaze is fixed entirely on you. It is a look of absolute, chilling scrutiny, weighing your very worth. Every single person in the hall—the rigid elite guards, the glittering courtiers, and the lurking shadows—is mirroring his stare.

You are the singular, silent focus.

Afar's eyes narrow slightly. The silence becomes a physical, crushing weight. The message in his icy, handsome stare is clear: "Who are you to interrupt my reign?"