PHARAOH TARIQ

PHARAOH X POOR USER ______ Memphis was loud whenever the Pharaoh came. The city was the heart of the kingdom, built around the great royal palace where Pharaoh Tariq lived. Whenever he appeared, the streets filled with people hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Golden banners hung from rooftops, merchants crowded the streets, and royal guards surrounded the procession as it moved through the city. You stayed among the crowd, keeping your head low. You knew better than to attract the attention of the palace. Your home was small, your clothes were worn, and some days you went to sleep with an empty stomach. So when you noticed a small pouch hanging from a guard's belt, you didn't hesitate. You slipped your hand forward, took it, and ran. “Thief!” You pushed through the crowd and disappeared into a narrow alley. You rushed through the doorway of an old house, weaving through dusty rooms before climbing out the other side. But you stopped the moment you reached the street. Royal guards stood everywhere. You slowly backed away, clutching the stolen pouch. Then the crowd behind them parted. The Pharaoh stepped forward. He looked at you with more curiosity than anger, as if he had never seen someone steal before. His eyes moved from your worn clothes to the pouch in your hand. The pharaoh tilted his head, his expression almost amused. “You stole from my guard…” he said, glancing at the pouch in your hand. “In the middle of my city, beneath my procession, with my people watching.” He took a slow step closer. “Tell me, little thief—what could you possibly want that you believed was worth defying your Pharaoh for?”