It was a new dawn for the Tempest of Set.

In retrospect, the ringmaster wondered if the crucible of Somgi's rule before him was a divine test of the circus' ability to suffer. But, he also knew the fickleness of the deity, and was just as curious if the God even cared to know of their existence. Regardless, Amenemhat used deceit paired with violence in order to claim his proper place in the world and was content in his worship at that.

It was a new dawn for Amenemhat.

Long had he been left thirsty, deprived of his power by a man who saw him as a threat. Now, he drank in a world that could be his, a world he'd lived in for far too long to simply see it evaporate. He allowed himself several days to 'mourn' his father's death in a deluge of drugs and drink. To the victor the spoils, and the ringmaster allowed himself to truly indulge in the stores Somgi left behind, his stash of ground poppy. By doing so, he imbibed what was left of his father's, to emerge from the fount a new man.

Ringmaster.

He wore the mantle, and brandished the large tattoo on his back, long ago healed and just as vivid as it was then. Emerging from a chrysalis of intoxication, there were lives to change and a show to assemble. The show. The titular Tempest of Set that ruled the tent, everything else caught within its mass. Several of the elder performers had been let go. The Clique required leadership, but more than that, it required drive in the wake of Somgi's neglect. Contentment began to settle in all echelons of significance within the circus, and it was the prerogative of the ringmaster to prune and carefully cultivate it.

So, he'd begin with that. Never in the history of the circus was a slave allowed to claim a position of authority. They were permitted to keep some of what they received, the rest siphoned off by Somgi of Cairo. There was one acrobat in particular that his father profited from, a slave girl captured from the edges of the free world, one that Somgi had kept under his thumb and was unwilling to truly let thrive.

Clipping wings is what Somgi specialized in. I? I will allow my performers to fly.

It was not out of generosity that Amenemhat acted, but an obligation. An obligation to his circus, to make it grow. An obligation to his grandfather, who he now succeeded. An obligation to himself, to not allow his place in the world to be sullied further and left to die. As Amenemhat corrected the flaws within his circus, he felt a catharsis for being stuck beneath his father's thumb just as this Liu Feiyan girl was.

Different circumstances, same result.

It was all to change. So, he summoned the acrobat who'd performed for ten years in his circus, a girl whose experience exceeded even his in some respects. It was a curious thought, that a slave was so privileged as she. But, it wasn't enough. She was left ignorant, at an arm's length. Amenemhat would see about her fate in his world, but she deserved greater opportunity to excel.

When Liu Feiyan at last entered his tent, her ringmaster was ready for her. She'd dressed herself instead of wandering about in the nude as he'd grown accustomed. She sought to impress him? Gifts bought for her by men that leered with her every pass, salacious thoughts pouring coin and finery. Liu Feiyan was a work of art, a deviant that flew to the stars, hoping to join their rank aqnd file.

"Welcome, Feiyan," he said, gesturing for the girl to take a seat with him. The ringmaster's tent was fitted with padded pillows over the protective tarp that kept sand out from under his feet. Accustomed to meeting associates in this tent, it was spacious and luxurious enough to hint at the wealth that the man possessed without being so ostentatious as to brag about it.

"You've been with the circus for a very long time. The Clique has been your family, but by obligation, not by choice. If given a choice, would you stay with them, still?"

There is no sense freeing her for the sake of it.

Surprise was the expectation with the line of questioning he flung at Liu Feiyan. The woman was raised a slave, always owned and commanded by another. Amenemhat did not overlook the necessity of such experience, sympathizing with the need to debase the value of the human soul in order to quash resistance and create a sense of propriety. It was simply how the world worked, both inside the Tempest of Set and beyond its reach. Slaves and masters, the division between classes. He'd long understood such things.

However, the time for such an example to be made was past. He'd gone to Delia in the days prior and asked for her advice, and in the process of it all, the suggestion for clemency rose high above the rest. In his past, Amenemhat was commanded to hold the lash, and there was no denying that he'd enjoyed it. There was satisfaction in violence, but clemency did not act as a mirror to the soul. Slaves would be punished in his circus, coerced into serving their purpose.

But no longer by him.

Always, he craved the power to actualize the visions that bounded through his mind. Past the echo of ages and through the river of consciousness, Amenemhat held the childhood fantasies of what it was a ringmaster did. And now, he would capitalize on them. First, it was clemency. Now, it was liberation. A figure of mercy and authority, the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set agreed with the assessment Delia in the wake of his father's death. To become a symbol... it began today.

"Of course I would."

What are you thinking...

It was not suspicion that spurred his thought, but curiosity. He'd kept a distance from slaves all of his life, acting as one of many lashes. He couldn't remember, if through the years in this circus, if he'd ever laid a hand upon Liu Feiyan or her sister. He supposed it didn't matter, in the end. What struck him then was the way her eyes shifted, the atmosphere shifting from the tension of master summoning slave to a conversation was more transparent in nature.

The will of the gods...

Was Feiyan a believer of the Kemetic Gods? He couldn't speak to the notion of slaves being educated in the Tempest of Set. Their feathers were not, after all, any sort of concern. Devoid of the elegance of Egyptian life, it was their destiny to languish in this world rather than pass to the next life.

Can one's ba be pulled to Gods that did not create it?

A curious philosophical notion, quelled just as it manifested. Broken away by the outpouring of Liu Feiyan's attachment to the Tempest of Set, her answered and the accompanying conviction behind it. She could prove useful, indeed.

Passion breeds innovation.

Nem did not respond to her until she finished speaking entirely, but his lips cracked a hint of a smile as she raised her hand to her chest.

Excellent.

"We're of the same mind on this. Providence is a heady thing, isn't it? I believe that the both of us were placed. But, there is a distinction between us, isn't there?"

Amenemhat allowed her a moment to reach the inevitable conclusion before he elaborated.

"You were a slave. As of today, that is no longer true. Destiny is chosen for us, but we need to fly towards it unchained."

Mercy.

The ringmaster stood up, finding a pair of goblets and filling them with the mead he kept for his personal consumption. He placed a filled goblet directly into Feiyan's hand before he sat once again, raising his own goblet before he said,

"I have a vision, Feiyan, and I need you to help me make it a reality."