A warrior walked with his head held high. His wife followed behind, head bowed.

"We are back to square one, my Lord," she said softly when, after roaming on the sandy stretches, they neared the forest area again.

His heart beat soared at the honey-dripping voice, even though he knew she was just playing around. That's what they had ever done, since the training for this project. He tightened his hold on the sword. The voice was too tempting to shake off.

"Are you trying to seduce me, my love?" he asked with a smug expression.

"Sadly, we are not on a baby-making program, my Lord," she replied innocently.

Their attraction to each other was lethal. So much that, if possible, they would've devoured each other in one piece. That's what the flirting period of a relationship did.

For they both had forgotten about their exes long ago.

She regretted having a part of her head sane, that always pulled her back from oblivion.

"Who knew Farta knows how to flirt?" she grinned.

Lorenzo's mood dropped to ground zero.

"What a bummer, Cheryl, you ruined my plus thy mood," he chuckled, now casually swinging the sword.

She wanted to do so much. The time was perfect but short. They never knew when the Archaeological department would transport them back to the present time. Work had to be started soon.

Placing a hand over her eyes to evade the scorching heat, she glanced around. "Try not to come in contact with the tribal people. They could be man-eaters," she informed and walked away. Lorenzo found her walking towards two women collecting dry leaves.

He exhaled a long sigh and trudged forward, keeping himself by the borders of the forest, avoiding the deeper parts. It was somewhat cooler here than to step under the unforgiving Egyptian Sun. But fate had its hawk eyes on him, that he noticed a large man looming over a tree trunk amongst the forest's dense foliage.

Must be peeing, he thought, but a shrill cry stilled him. Moving around, he found a girl on her knees.

Oh Lord, horny people here! He turned away, but another cry stopped him. Cautiously he looked again to find the girl undoing the linen draping from her shoulders. And this time, he caught her red eyes.

Lorenzo's poor heart melted to see the helplessness in her eyes. She had kohl-lined eyes and a small gold piece on her head that he identified as an Egyptian princess' headwear.

He wanted to walk away, fearing his actions may change history, but then he looked closer.

The girl seemed to be a minor princess, from a minor kingdom here in Egypt, which probably wasn't documented about anywhere in the modern world.

If her kingdom was a really big deal, then he may be given a prize and left. Or if it'd be some minor unknown one, then he'd try making space for himself, and start with writing his travelogue. Either way seeing his actions rational, he marched off to the hobo who was going to violate the supposed royal.

"I- I asked mother b- but she won't give," she was shaking her head violently. The man snatched her linen and shredded it to pieces.

"Ay paedophile!" the man spun around to find a young warrior casually leaning against a tree. He sneered at his amused expression, obviously not understanding the word.

"Having all the fun alone? Care if I join?" Lorenzo now asked in Egyptian.

The hobo's scowl slowly turned upwards to a grin. The fake warrior strolled to where the girl sat, to see her tightly wrapping her arms around her chest.

"See dear, you have nowhere to go. Wouldn't it have been good if you listened to me, hmm?" The molester patted her head, making her shrink back. She hiccuped, not meeting anyone's eye.

"Fartaxerxes and you are?" Lorenzo stuck his hand out for a shake, but immediately flexed back to move it through his hair.

Dealing with a fourth-century rapist, not a twenty-first-century business partner, he reminded himself.

He kept his stance cool but discreetly noticed a knife tucked in the robes of the hobo. Detecting no one around, he simply pulled the knife out of his possession.

"What the-" The molester's face hardened, but the next second was struck aside as the fake warrior punched him.

Oh, this is good. Thought Lorenzo as the hobo lunged at him. But who was the molester fooling? He had no idea that the 21st-century man knew far more advanced fighting techniques than him.

Unwrapping the linen of his torso, Fartaxerxes carefully adjusted it around the girl. The hobo lay trembling beside them that had the scared girl squirm away.

"Steady there. I won't hurt you, dear," he offered a genuine smile.

"I am a saviour, who defeats bad people," he whispered. "Would you take me to your family, so we could get this bad man punished?" he gave his hand, which she tentatively took to stand up. Smiling through the tears in her eyes as she nodded.

She stared at the good man, believing him as an angel sent by the Gods to save her. She decided to definitely tell her mother about this angel man.

Lorenzo took in her appearance. She looked close to a high schooler.

And then Fartaxerxes followed the girl out in the sandy lanes, dragging the hobo, as Achilles did to Hector, in all his muscled glory. The six damn years to train as an ancient man paid well, he thought with a smirk.

***

"One corner of the room would do," Cheryl insisted, arranging the logs of wood. "You don't have to bother for food. I just need a roof above my head." She got up to stretch her back. The small hut she'd located of this lonely old woman was amazing, sitting right about the natural beauty of the forest.

The elderly woman looked admiringly at the young woman who, out of the blue, was here, helping her old self.

She was sceptical earlier, but all that had vanished by the sincere look on the maiden's face.

"You didn't tell your name, dear?" she asked. Cheryl choked at the question.

Lolita? a name came in her head but she frowned. Nah, not this.

"Uh, I'm Lola? Yeah, Lola! Lola Rose," she sputtered.

What kind of name is that?!

Sounds like a kinky alter ego ugh, she snorted.

"Lovely name! I love everything Greek and Macedonian," the oldie admitted that instantly caught Cheryl's attention.

"Macedonian?" she inquired, knowing well from her historical studies that many Egyptians were happy with Alexander's rule, who was Macedonian. "As if Alexander III of Macedon?!" she yapped enthusiastically.

"Do you know him?" the oldie asked, bewildered.

"Do you know him?" Cheryl fired back, regretting why she had to be so eager.

The ancient woman ushered her inside. Seeing the excited look on the girl's face, she spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Rumour has, he would be invading here in some time. Would you like to become his concubine?"