Cairo.
A hot wind blew against their faces.
In the open-top SUV, Russell raised a hand to hold down his headscarf and gazed at the yellow sand swirling in the distance. The farther they went from the city, the sparser the greenery became. In the end, apart from low shrubs dotting the landscape, there were only buildings standing in the distance.
In this ancient and closed-off country, everything seemed to have nothing to do with outsiders.
The residents lived peacefully, day after day. Even if travelers occasionally arrived from afar, they could only take in the sights at a glance, unable to truly enter the lives of its people.
No matter how warm their smiles were, there was always a cool, distant barrier between them.
Even those who occasionally went abroad to study or work rarely spoke to others about life in their homeland, though there was not much difference between here and elsewhere.
It was impossible to say whether it was indifference or arrogance.
They were self-sufficient and lived their own lives, seldom interacting with the outside world and never caring much about what was happening beyond their borders.
Under the Pharaoh's rule, this country had endured for thousands of years, and it would continue to endure.
Now, a mighty convoy wound along the road and entered the city gates.
They passed through layer after layer of gates until, in the end, only one vehicle stopped before the final square.
The Old Man in Black Robe who had been waiting for a long time looked displeased.
"You're a little late," he said. "You're about to run out of time."
"Something happened on the road. Sorry."
"I heard about Golden Dawn. You did well, but that still isn't an excuse."
The old man did not dwell on the lateness. After