The new pharaoh received me in a private hall, far from the bustle of the palace. He was young, barely in his thirties, but his gaze carried the weight of someone who had already learned what it meant to bear the crown. His name was Menkaure, a name meant to bring wisdom and a long life, according to tradition.
He sat on a low throne, but there was calm authority about him. When I entered, he raised his hand in greeting.
"Come closer," he said, waiting until I stopped a few steps away. "I have thought long and hard about your plans. About the city in the north. About what it will mean for Egypt."
I kept silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I have decided," he said slowly. "I give you not only permission to build, but also the right to choose who will go with you. With all my authority. This will not only be your city — it will also be my legacy — and I want people there whom you trust."
I bowed my head. "This is a great honor, Menkaure. I promise I will not fail your trust."
"I do not doubt that," he said with a faint smile. "When the time for departure comes, bring me the list of those you wish to take. I will only seal it."
When I left the palace, the sun was already setting, and I knew exactly where I had to go.
---
I found Neseret near the gardens. She was sitting on a stone bench, watching the courtyard where the servants' children played. There was peace in her eyes, but also that strange melancholy I had noticed long ago.
"Neseret," I said softly as I approached. She turned and smiled faintly.
"You have news," she said quietly.
I nodded. "I was with Menkaure today. He gave me permission. I can begin building. And I can choose who goes with me."
Her smile faded, and she looked down. "And you want me to go."
I sat beside her. "I want you to be there. You've always been one of those who supported me. And… I don't want to leave you behind while I'm far away in the north."
She was silent for a while, her hands folded in her lap. "You know I've thought about this," she said at last. "And I know that if I went, it would be an adventure that may never come again. But… my place is here. I have my family, my life here. I don't want to abandon them."
I looked at her for a long moment and then slowly nodded. "I understand."
She touched my hand. "It's not because I don't want to be by your side. It's because I know this is your path, not mine. And you have to walk it, even if I'm not there."
We stayed sitting like that until the sun disappeared below the horizon.
The road north had been long, but when I finally arrived at the place where the old fortress once stood, I reined in my horse and dismounted.
The wind here was harsher than in the south, carrying with it the scent of stone and ancient fires.
Before me stretched an empty clearing — overgrown with weeds, the shattered walls still jutted from the ground like the bones of a long-dead beast.
I took a few steps forward. Each step was a memory.
I saw myself as I had been, standing here once before, armor soaked in blood, weapon in hand, breath ragged and heart pounding.
The battle had been so brutal that the ground had turned into mud mixed with blood and dust.
I crouched down, running my fingers through the soil.
"Do you remember everything you did here?" a voice asked behind me.
I turned — and there stood Karem.
His hair had gone gray, his beard was longer than I remembered, but the same mischievous spark still burned in his eyes.
"Karem," I said with a genuine smile. "I thought you wouldn't have the strength to come all the way out here."
He laughed, his voice a little rough.
"I couldn't miss this. You always said you'd build your city here. And I swore I'd live long enough to see it. At least this dream."
I nodded. "You'll see it. Maybe not everything it will become, but we'll lay the first stones together."
Karem looked at the ruins, then back at me, a faint glimmer of moisture in his eyes.
"You know, when I saw you here back then, I thought you'd never survive. And you… you stand here today looking as if it had all happened just yesterday."
I allowed myself a small smile.
"Maybe it did. For me, it's just a moment. My body doesn't remember exhaustion — only my memory remembers pain. And back then, this…"
— I touched the tip of my sword —
"…this immortality served me well."
We stood there in silence for a while. The wind swept through the ruins, as if the screams of the dead still echoed in the stones.
"But no more blood," I said at last. "This won't be another battlefield. This will be where Alexandria rises."
Karem took a deep breath and nodded.
"Then let's get to it. Start drawing your plans. I'll make sure there are people to bring them to life."
Together, we looked over the place that would become our legacy.
Where death had once reigned, the future was about to be built.
I stood on the rise, watching the movement below. Dozens of men and women worked along the foundation lines, carrying stones, setting them in place, sealing them with mortar. In the distance, the steady ringing of bronze hammers echoed, and wooden carts creaked through the dust.
Alexandria was still nothing more than a network of foundations and construction sites, but in my mind, it already stood — the harbor docks, the library, streets full of life. This city was meant to be a legacy that would outlast everything… even me, no matter how long I lived.
"Lord!" a messenger called, pushing his way through the workers. His tunic was caked with dust, his breath ragged.
"What news?" I asked as he reached me.
He knelt and handed me a rolled papyrus. I broke the seal and unrolled the letter.
> Father,
It has been a long time since I last wrote to you. I have heard that the first walls of your city already stand in the north. I always believed you would achieve this, but knowing that you have built something that will outlive us all fills me with pride.
Mother is well. She still tends to the house and often speaks of you. She says you are her greatest pride.
And I… more and more, I feel that my place is by your side. The palace no longer calls to me. I want to be where you are — to learn from you, to help you build something that one day I can inherit from you.
When the time comes, I will come. Perhaps sooner than you expect.
Nakht
I folded the letter, my fingers lingering on the seal for a moment as if I didn't want to let it go. It was strange to read the words of someone who aged while I remained the same.
Karem noticed my expression and walked closer. "Good news?"
"Good," I nodded. "Nakht writes that he may soon come. He wants to be with me. He wants to learn and, one day, continue where I leave off."
Karem chuckled, his old face brightening. "Then that will be a day worth seeing — even if they have to carry me here on a stretcher. I want to see the two of you standing on these walls together."
I looked out over the site, at the dozens of hands dragging stones and wood day after day.
"Perhaps I will stand here forever," I said quietly. "But even so… I need someone to carry on if I ever choose to leave. Maybe it's him."