When we returned to the capital, whispers of our journey had already reached ahead of us. News of treachery, of smuggled weapons, of the names of powerful men in the south we uncovered, had already reached the ears of those who needed to hear it. But the most important thing was that we now had proof.
We went to the palace alone, just me and Karem. The guards let us in immediately. They led us straight to the hall where Pharaoh Sobekneferu was waiting. She sat on her throne, her closest confidants standing around her, but her gaze was fixed only on me.
"Amenemhet," she said as we bowed. "You have returned. And not empty-handed."
I looked at her directly. "The goddess is my witness, great Pharaoh, that the truth is worse than we feared. The southern governors not only withheld taxes and supplies, but they also secretly prepared for revolt. Weapons meant for your soldiers ended up in the hands of men who may one day march against you."
Her face hardened. "Names."
I began to recite them. Each name fell into the hall like a stone into water. The priests whispered among themselves, the soldiers clenched their fists. Karem stood beside me as a witness, ready to confirm every word.
Sobekneferu listened in silence until I finished. Then she leaned against the throne's armrests and said: "So the enemies are within the borders. Sons of Egypt itself."
"Yes," I nodded. "And that is why we cannot wait for them to strike first. If we give them time, they will unite their strength and we may find ourselves fighting on our own land. Egypt must strike first."
The hall buzzed. One of the older advisors immediately protested: "It is too risky! We do not have enough men to march into open war!"
"We do," I answered firmly. "But only if we use everything we have. We must prepare quickly, without hesitation. And we must have a plan that strikes them at their weakest point."
The Pharaoh raised her hand and silence returned. "And do you have that plan?"
I nodded. "We begin with a counterstrike. We will hit their warehouses and river ports in the south, where they have hidden their supplies. Without weapons and grain, their rebellion will collapse before it begins. At the same time, we will send messages to those who still hesitate. We will show them that the Pharaoh rules firmly and that anyone who stands against her will lose everything."
Sobekneferu leaned forward. "And who will lead this?"
We both knew the question was more a test than a true dilemma. I stood straight. "If you permit, great Pharaoh, I will lead it. I know their paths, I've seen their stores, I know who stands behind them. But I will not do it alone. I need Karem, and I need you to entrust me with the men most loyal to you."
The Pharaoh paused in thought. Then her gaze softened, and she nodded slightly. "Now I know why I chose you as my advisor. Your words are clear, your heart is steady. You will do what must be done."
She rose from the throne, and the hall murmured in respect. "Amenemhet, I trust you. And if you succeed, Egypt will not only be defended—it will be stronger than before."
She pointed at Karem. "And you, young soldier, will stand at his side. Today you are a warrior, tomorrow perhaps a commander. Prove you are worthy of your friend's trust and mine."
Karem bowed low to the ground. "I will not fail."
I drew a deep breath. In that moment, I felt Egypt standing on the edge. If we succeeded, we would secure its strength. If we failed, everything could collapse. But for the first time since I entered this age, I felt that my place was here
When we left the hall, the commanders were waiting. All of them wore simple leather armor with short swords at their sides. Some looked at me with suspicion, others with respect. I knew that if I wanted to lead them, I had to be clear and direct.
"From this day forward," I said, "we begin preparing for war. It will not be a long campaign if we strike in the right way. But we must be united. And unity cannot be gained with words, only with actions."
I unrolled a map on the stone table. It wasn't perfect—just a drawing on parchment—but it was enough. I pointed south. "Here are their storehouses. Here they keep grain and weapons. If we destroy them, the revolt will lose its strength."
The commanders nodded. One of them, an older man named Menkhet, spoke up: "How many men will we need?"
"No more than two thousand," I answered. "If we move fast and strike precisely, they won't be able to stop us. But every commander must know what to do if the plan changes. That's why I will train you personally."
I looked at Karem. "And you will be my right hand. Everything I teach, you will learn first. Then you will pass it on to the others. When I'm not here, your voice will be my voice."
Karem stood tall, proud, and determined. "I will follow you."
Training began the very next day. In the palace courtyard, we built a simple practice ground. I used stones as fortresses, wooden poles as troops, and explained the steps. "Never attack their strength head-on," I said. "Hit their flanks. Destroy their supplies. And if they split, crush them in parts."
Some commanders looked uncertain, but when I gave them concrete examples, they began to understand. Karem was always at my side, writing notes, repeating my words to the soldiers. Soon they no longer saw him as just a young man—they began to see him as someone who held the future of the army in his hands.
Besides tactics, I taught them discipline. "A soldier without discipline is nothing but a thief with a sword," I told them. "Everyone can fight, but only the one who can wait for the command will win a war."
We trained day and night. Soldiers ran with heavy shields, learned to stand firm in the line, practiced new formations. I watched chaos turn into strength.
At the same time, I prepared the supplies. I ordered grain, water, and wood for repairing ships to be gathered. Everything had to be done quickly and quietly, so that news would not reach the south.
Sobekneferu came to visit us a few times. She stood at the edge of the training ground and watched as the men obeyed my commands. She didn't say much, but there was trust in her eyes. She no longer saw me only as an advisor—she saw me as the man leading her war.
Karem grew day by day. The more he learned, the more the commanders respected his words. One evening, when I called a meeting, I let him speak in my place. He stood tall, spoke clearly, and the soldiers listened without objections.
After the meeting, I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Today, you were better than me," I told him.
He laughed, but his eyes were serious. "No. I'm only doing what you taught me."