The persistent thumping at Aken's smithy door was a clear sign that the day had decided to start earlier than usual. Aken, already awake and battling with an ornery bit of iron, grumbled under his breath as he abandoned his work to investigate the disturbance. He was in the middle of composing an irate monologue for the early visitor in his head as he opened the door.

“I’ve told you countless times, Basim: you apprentice here, you don’t have to knock…”

Aken trailed off as he saw who was on the other side of the doorframe.There stood a man, nearly the mirror image of Aken himself but for the absence of a blacksmith's bulk, extreme height, and the constant shadow of soot that lingered around him.

"Senen!" Aken's stern look broke into a wide grin as he exclaimed his brother's name, the pending rant completely forgotten.

"Hey, Big Bro," Senen responded, his voice carrying the calm assurance of a man who made his living molding clay, not wrestling with stubborn metal. His travel-worn clothes and tanned skin told tales of a long journey.

Without warning, Aken lunged forward, wrapping his brother in an embrace that would've made a sandbear proud.

"What brings you from Qahedjet to this humble corner of the world?" Aken asked, holding Senen at arm's length.

"I missed the sight of your forge-roasted face," Senen replied, dodging a playful swipe from Aken. "And the Festival of Ankhara gave me a good excuse to make the journey."

Aken scratched at his soot-smudged forehead.

"The festival was days ago, Senen."

Senen shrugged, grinning.

"Well, timing was never my strong suit."

—

As the usual rhythm of village life played out, Kheti found himself comfortably ensconced in the quiet sanctuary of Kephri's Rest's library, his attention wholly devoted to one of the six precious maps in his charge. His wild, bird's nest-like beard was slightly askew, indicating the depth of his concentration, and the regular murmurs of village activity outside were nothing but a distant hum.

"Why is he always so engrossed?" wondered an elder as he passed by the library window, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "All those old scrolls and maps! Doesn't he realize there's a whole world outside those dusty pages?"

The other elder traveling alongside him chuckled.

“He’s a librarian, it is what they do.”

Kheti, lost in the labyrinthine details of the map, was brought back to reality by a soft, tentative cough. He glanced up and blinked in surprise at the sight of an unfamiliar face. His library was seldom graced by newcomers; in fact, his usual clientele consisted of a paltry handful of dedicated scholars and a gaggle of children drawn in by his wild tales.

A young woman, no older than twenty (he was quite good at discerning ages,) stood before him, her pale blue hair cascading around her shoulders in a striking contrast to her tanned skin. Her wide eyes flickered with what appeared to be nervousness, and she seemed to be perpetually distracted, her gaze continually straying off into some unseen distance. There was a kind of endearing vacancy to her demeanor, as if her mind was an unmoored boat, bobbing along the currents of random thoughts.

"Are you the record keeper?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kheti, taken aback but intrigued, nodded, and with a hint of pride in his voice, replied, "Indeed, I am Kheti, the custodian of the grand total of forty-two scrolls and six maps that our humble library boasts. How may I assist you?"

The woman smiled, though it was a strange, lopsided thing, as if she was forcing herself to do so.

“Do you have any scrolls on Ka-infused items?”

—

Menna, the finest (and only) dedicated baker in all of Kephri's Rest, was kneading dough in her kitchen when a sudden gasp from Tawaret caught her attention. She glanced over to see her daughter’s wide-eyed gaze fixed on something—or rather, someone—outside the window.

"Mother, who is that?" Tawaret asked, not bothering to hide her admiration.

Menna wiped her hands on her apron and moved to join her daughter by the window. Outside, she saw Aken and a younger man, who bore a striking resemblance to the blacksmith, walking down the street.

"Oh, that’s Senen," Menna said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Aken's younger brother. He's a potter. Seems he’s come to visit."

"A potter?" Tawaret’s eyes sparkled with fascination. "But he doesn't look like a potter..."

Menna laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"What does a potter look like, my dear?"

"Well... not like that," she muttered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "He's... he's..."

"Young? Handsome?" Menna supplied helpfully, her laughter bubbling up again at her daughter's embarrassment.

"Yes, well, Senen has always had that effect on people," Menna said, moving back to her dough. "And not just because of his good looks. He's a bit of a hero back in their hometown, you know. Saved a child from a landslide, chased off a pack of jackals single-handedly, that sort of thing."

Menna's daughter gaped at her, her eyes wide with awe.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Really?"

Menna shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"So the stories go. But remember, my dear, stories and reality are often two different things."

As she returned to her kneading, Menna couldn't help but sneak another glance out the window at the man who had so captivated Tawaret. Yes, Senen was certainly handsome, and he had the makings of a good story. Kephri's Rest could always use another good story.

—

It was afternoon, and two brothers who hadn’t seen one another in some time made their way through Kephri's Rest.

Their laughter and brotherly familiarity drew curious glances from villagers. However, the two, boisterous as they were, didn’t seem to mind nor really notice. Aken, typically reserved, had come alive with the arrival of his brother—displaying a liveliness that many in the village didn’t know he was capable of. Senen, only infrequently acquainted with the denizens of this place, was an incorrigible antagonist when it came to making his older sibling laugh uproariously, encouraging Aken to double over with booming belly-laughs as he imitated a very stodgy, self-important walk by way of making fun of him.

When they finally arrived home, Aken's wife, Bes, and their daughter, Nefertari, welcomed Senen with surprised joy.

Bes stood in the doorway, her youthful beauty was something many women in the village admired and coveted, her radiance matched only by the setting sun. There was a playful glint in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, an amused smirk adorning her lips.

"Took you long enough," she teased, her voice filled with warmth.

Next to Bes, their daughter, Nefertari, stood with an uncharacteristic patience of a child her age. The moment she saw her uncle, her restraint broke, and she ran towards him, her small feet kicking up dust as she squealed, "Uncle Senen!"

Senen bent down to scoop her up into his arms, twirling her around in a circle. "My, Nefertari! You've grown since I last saw you," he exclaimed, setting her down and ruffling her hair. "Soon you'll be taller than your old uncle!"

Nefertari giggled.

"Only if you stop growing, Uncle Senen," she quipped..

Aken chuckled at the exchange, shaking his head fondly.

"You'll have to excuse Nefertari," he said to Senen, "She gets her sass from her mother."

"Hey!" Bes feigned indignation, her hands on her hips. "That’s our daughter you’re disparaging. I'll have you know, sass is a sign of intelligence."

Senen laughed, "In that case, Nefertari is well on her way to becoming the smartest person in Kephri's Rest."

“I’m already the smartest person in the village, Uncle Senen,” Nefertari said frankly. “I aim to be the smartest person in the Upper Realm, next.”

“And you’ll likely blow past that benchmark in due course,” Senen said.

“Yes, if she can get her arms around basic mathematics,” Aken said.

“It’s not my fault that maths are boring,” his daughter whined. “If they made them a bit more exciting, I could definitely see myself mastering them.”

Senen raised an eyebrow at his brother, as if to ask, ‘mathematics? You were so good at mathematics!’ but said nothing aloud. Aken, understanding the intent, simply shook his head as if to say, ‘not now.’

“Well,” Bes said, standing straight and gesturing inside. “You look famished, Senen. Care for something to eat?”

“I’ve been awaiting those magnificent words for days now,” Senen said with a moan, and the group of them entered the house.

—

"Scrolls about... Ka-infused items?"

Kheti's bushy eyebrows arched high, almost disappearing into his wild forest of a hairline.

"My dear lady, are you sure you're not confusing us with some other establishment? A blacksmith's workshop, or an enchanter's tower, perhaps?"

The woman blushed furiously, her pale blue hair glowing eerily in the dim light.

"No... I mean... I thought... Isn't this a place where you find information?"

Kheti burst into laughter.

"Indeed, it is! But usually, the information pertains to more... pedestrian topics. Farming techniques, historical records, the occasional love sonnet... We don't usually dabble in matters of the Circles."

"But... but the sign outside said 'Library'."

Her voice was small and her eyes wide. She seemed genuinely flummoxed.

Kheti tried hard to suppress another bout of laughter.

"Ah, yes, it does, doesn't it? But dear child, a library is not a treasure trove of every conceivable piece of knowledge in the universe, though we do strive to be! Alas, we are bound by the limits of what our humble village can provide. But fear not! I do have a few scrolls about Ka. They deal more with spiritual matters than...artifacts... but perhaps they might help?"

She looked at him, her face a mask of utter confusion. "Spiritual matters? Like... ghosts?"

Kheti sighed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Not quite, my dear. But close enough. Let's have a look, shall we?" And with that, he led the bemused woman deeper into the maze of scrolls and dust.

—

"Pass the cheese, would you, Nefertari?" Senen asked. It was the next morning after his arrival, and still quite early.

Nefertari, still half-asleep, pushed the cheese in his direction without looking up from her bread.

"So, Uncle Senen," she started, her voice muffled by a mouthful of bread, "what's Qahedjet like?"

Senen considered this question while cutting a slice of cheese and placing it on his own piece of bread.

"Ah, Qahedjet. It's a bustling place, full of people and noise. Every day there's a new face, a new story. The city never sleeps, Nefertari. I believe you’d quite like it. The pottery kilns are always alight, always ready. The clay there... it's rich, perfect for shaping. You can feel the life pulsing through it, as though the city itself is alive in your hands."

He looked down at his own hands, the dark clay still etched under his nails, owing to the many hours he'd spent at the wheel.

"But... there's something about Kephri's Rest," Senen continued, his gaze distant, "a quiet charm that the city lacks. Here, everyone knows everyone else. There's a rhythm to life that you can't find in the city. In Qahedjet, you're always rushing, always running. Here, you can take the time to breathe, to enjoy the moment."

A soft note of longing colored his words, painting a picture of a man who, despite enjoying the excitement of city life, missed the tranquility and familiarity of the small town.

"I guess, what I'm saying is," Senen said, looking at Nefertari, a fond smile on his face, "there's no place like home. And Kephri's Rest, despite its size and simplicity, has a way of making you feel at home."

Nefertari, finally looking up from her bread, met her uncle's gaze.

"So, you're happy to be back then?" she asked, her tone hopeful.

"Yes, Nefertari," Senen said, his voice warm, "I am happy to be back."

—

As the day reached its zenith, Senen's tales faded to a comfortable silence. He looked around, a soft smile on his face.

"Aken," he began, his voice carrying a hint of seriousness that wasn't there before, "I've been away from you for far too long. Qahedjet is... well, it's not here. It's not home."

"Senen," Aken said. "That is, as you recall, our hometown..."

He paused, a half-smile pulling at his lips.

"Well, yes, but each time I visit you here - despite the time in between - I find myself longing for it once more immediately upon leaving."

Aken looked perplexed.

"I'm not sure I follow, little brother," he said. "What is it you're hinting at?"

"I've heard about Khonsu," Sene said. "He was always a dear friend to me, and now I hope to do him a kindness in return. I was thinking that perhaps it's time I stepped in and took over his wheel for a while."

Aken grinned at his brother, his eyes gleaming.

"Senen... I... Welcome home. And don't worry about the pottery, we'll get you set up in no time."

The brothers sat back, the sun warming their faces as they let the reality of their reunion wash over them. And in the back of Aken's mind, plans were already being hatched for how to put Senen's 'delicate touch' to good use.

—

Kheti stirred from an unsettling dream in which he was being chased by a particularly large and disgruntled dust bunny. His eyes fluttered open to the harsh assault of morning sun streaming through the high windows of the library. He groaned, clutching his head. It felt as though a family of very determined beetles had taken up residence inside his skull and were doing a vigorous tap dance routine.

As he sat up, his gaze fell upon the majestic sprawl of scrolls and maps all around him. The sight should have brought a sense of calm, a return to familiarity. But instead, it brought confusion. Why was he on the floor? His bed was a good thirty paces away, comfortably ensconced in the corner of his library-home, and decidedly more comfortable than the cool stone floor.

Memories of the previous night began to trickle back. There had been a stranger, a peculiar young woman with hair the color of a midday sky and a mind that seemed lost in the clouds. She had been asking about Ka-infused items, whatever those were. Kheti remembered trying to be of help, guiding her through the library. Then, as their search had unearthed no true results, they'd decided to break for dinner.

And there was something else... a gem. A particular find from one of his desert walks. It was a bit of a party trick, really, the way it glowed when held up to the light just right. He'd been eager to show it to the stranger, hoping to impress her with the magic of refracted light...

A blinding flash. Then, darkness.

With a grunt, Kheti pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the beetles in his head picked up the pace of their dance. He looked around, but the gem was nowhere to be seen. Had it exploded? Did gems do that? He made a mental note to consult the scroll on minerals later.

For now, he had a mystery on his hands. A missing gem, a forgotten evening, and a headache that could bring an ox to its knees. Just another day in the life of Kephri's Rest's only librarian.