Truth be told, as much as Isetheperu enjoyed the politics of ruling, she cared little for the act of governing. She was, as she liked to think, an influencer and decider. From the high balconies of her palace, carefully and safely removed from the unwashed masses, she guided her nation in the direction most beneficial. It was only there, she often said, removed from the stains of humanity, looking down upon the granular specks of people milling across the land, that she could understand and obey the will of the gods.



Of course, the gods had never once sought fit to so much as breathe in Isetheperu's ear, but the fact remained that she was never meant to be a woman of the people. The common man held no appeal to her. She satisfied them not by asserting her mortal nature or trying to convince them that she, too, would get her hands dirty every now and again as some Pharaohs may have done in the past. Rather, she served as an idol. A being to marvel at. A woman who brought all who gazed upon her closer to the divine. That was her lot and her responsibility.



Unfortunately, even idols were required to engross themselves in the mundane provincial matters of the small folk.



The task was as necessary as it was unpleasant. While Isetheperu had always found herself more concerned with the larger machinations of state, of armies and sweeping decrees and international relations, only a fool would neglect the importance of keeping one's fingers on the pulse of events within her own country. If Egypt were a body, and she, of course, the mind, one couldn't expect focus on cerebral matters until every nerve in every digit was properly in order.



It was for this reason Isetheperu found herself in the province of Rofah, trying not to wonder at how the smallest flecks of mud had made its way onto her kalasiris. Her manservants had been so mindful while carrying her on the litter to the morning offering ritual.



The temple of Ptah was not quite so glorious as what she was used to in Cairo, though that was scarcely a fair comparison. Its stone walls still remained exquisitely and lovingly crafted, the statues within laden in gold and silks. As Isetheperu made her way through its halls and columns, flanked by a pair of royal guards and paying little mind to the way the priests and layman worshippers skittered about at her approach, she wondered at how long it had been since she had last graced this very passageway. Seven years, she thought, or perhaps longer, and still she felt as if she remembered every detail. It was as if nothing had changed.



And, as she stepped into the inner sanctum's antechamber, she realized nothing ever did.



A small group of men lined the smaller space, the local lords or other persons of means, their idle chatter falling silent at her entry. The queen mother had expected them, seeing as they were the true purpose for her visit -- the petitions and appeals of those with influence in this province was of more worth to her than the veneration of a statue on this particular morning. Still, Isetheperu had to contain her instincts to recoil from the distasteful looks of urgency on their faces. Every one, no doubt, had a "very pressing" matter with which they sought her counsel, each more important than the next.



"My lords," she greeted, taking no great pains to mask her lack of interest despite herself. Beyond them, she could see the offerings already laid out at Ptah's feet, pots of wine and baskets of hippopotamus hides and ivory. "What a glorious morning for honoring our creator, no?" She made to move through and past them, hoping that the small gathering would allow her to at least address the morning rituals before monopolizing her time.