Age of Majesty

Chapter 1

Being a King meant being inhuman. Where other normal civilians can live out their entire lives without taking another life, there was always so much blood on the King's hands. Traitors, criminals, threats to his kingdom, but the same red blood as any other. He gives the order for execution. He gives the order for the procedure. And sometimes he even watches, if the treachery was great enough, and the culture, the people, demand it.

Being a King meant being inhuman. Where other normal civilians show genuine emotion through their actions, genuine empathy, genuine sympathy, love, fondness, no matter if the King feels it as well, his actions are always interpreted to have a second meaning, a second purpose. Bending down to help a sick peasant is read as a political move to win the hearts of the poor. Tending a sick noble is read as a political move to win the hearts of the aristocracy. If he was absent from court, he either cared little for the welfare of his people, or, more commonly, is furious at the lords. If he dresses well, he means to intimidate his subjects. If he dresses sparsely, he means to show his muscles, and prove that he is healthy and will live long, both easing the fear of his people and warning other Kings to stay out of his way.

But of course, Kings are human. Had they been completely inhuman they would make incompetent Kings. And Pharaoh Atemu was no different. He had his preferences, his woes, and his favourites. At present, the latter two were in effect.

High Priest Seto had taken ill again.

It seemed, the Pharaoh thought rather crossly, that the boy (and he was a boy, just as the Pharaoh was as well) had been blessed with all the gifts a man can ask for: height, looks, intelligence, wisdom, and very importantly, great magical power. On a healthy day he is graceful and nimble, and on any day his wit and strategy served him well. But his health seems to remain elusive. Ever since the two of them were little, Seto had always been a step behind due to his health. His intelligence was great, but his weakness drains his drive. Often, Seto would start off even better than Atemu himself, but his endurance would not last. He was always slower than Atemu, would retire early from sport, required more sleep and ate with low appetite. As they grew Seto began to take ill more often, remaining in bed for days. The boy needed to drink a bitter herbal draught three times a day; once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once at night before going to bed. This he must do daily without fail, or else he was certain to become ill, and even when he does it he sometimes collapses in the middle of the day in a dead faint, blood spilling out of his pale lips. He would wake several hours later, disoriented and feeble.

There were certain foods he could not eat. If he ate them he would get so sick he would be bedridden for weeks. Hunting was too strenuous an affair. He could not stay out in the sun for too long, for his body could not take the often scorching sun and heat. And yet at night he must wear enough to keep warm, for his body was even more sensitive to the chill. All these things made him a poor excuse of a man indeed, except Atemu knew, as did his father, that Seto's intelligence greatly outmatched his own. His sense of strategy was unbeatable. And his magic, which was ironic because it drains his physical health every time he uses it, was overpowering. For this reason Seto was a High Priest, whose powers no one questioned and no one, save Atemu on as few occasions as possible, called forth.

Atemu was very fond of his cousin. The fact that his cousin is so unlucky to constantly fall sick was a matter the Pharaoh had been trying to solve ever since he was crowned. So today, like most days when Seto was sick, the Pharaoh walked along the paths in the gardens to the pavilion where Seto rested.

Seto had been sleeping when Atemu arrived. He was wrapped in heavy blankets and when the servant moved to rouse him, Atemu waved her back. Sleep is often the best cure, the only cure, and Seto needed all that he could get to last.

Nevertheless, when the Pharaoh approached, Seto sensed in his dreams the presence of a fellow Shadow user and woke reluctantly.

" My Pharaoh," He rasped. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming.

" High Priest Seto." Atemu addressed, sitting by the side of his bed. " You were absent from court today." He began.

Seto's deep blue eyes were glassy today. " I tried." He explained miserably. " I tried."

" You seemed fine yesterday." Tentatively, Atemu held out his hand and placed it over the ailing priest's forehead. It was burning hot. Atemu turned to the servant. " Get a basin with cool water, and a rag."

Seto inhaled, and Atemu heard a distinct rattling in the priest's lungs.

" You caught it over night." Atemu shook his head. " So quick."

" I am sorry."

The Pharaoh ignored that ridiculous statement, instead asking, " What did the healer say?"

The priest seemed to take his time in answering. Actually, Seto was very exhausted from the little talking he did. Sensing this, the Pharaoh patted the covers on the bed. " Never mind. I will ask your servant. Save your energy."

Seto was very ill, perhaps too ill to listen to anything Atemu had to say about the court. " I will leave you to rest now." The Pharaoh told him, just as the girl entered with the water and rag. Seto did not protest. Atemu rose and dampened the rag and laid it on Seto's forehead before leaving. He gave the servant girl a look. The servant seemed to understand. She was to recool the rag from now on.

He left.

oO

In the world of Shadow Magic there were always those who were unfaithful to the Pharaoh because they believe in their own power. Such was the era of the time, with hidden disunity in the kingdom. Under the cover of peace the lords plan the war. The challenge was to keep the war from the knowledge of the civilians, because once the civilians know, the bordering kingdoms will know. And they will not sit aside to watch a civil war. They will take advantage of it.

Certainly, Egypt was a big enough kingdom to intimidate most small groups, but with Shadow Magic it was not something anyone counted on. And with the turmoil inside Egypt, hidden from most but very real, it was definitely a danger. The Thief King Bakura is still alive and on the move. At the moment, the noble was informing the pharaoh of the possible activity in that area and asking for reinforcements.

" The Thief practices a shadow magic of his own." Priest Mahado told the Pharaoh before Atemu could issue any command. He bowed low, his headdress gleaming. In court, only the Pharaoh is King, and no one else, so usually the Tomb Robber was referred to only as 'The Thief' or just plain 'Bakura'. " Issuing troops would not only be ineffective, given the military's lack of magical strategy, but also it might prove to be harmful to the army."

" Reports estimate there are at least two hundred bandits under the control of the Thief King, all very skilled at Shadow magic." The noble nodded. Two hundred was no match for two thousand, but the soldiers did not practice sorcery. It was an odd that must be evened.

" Not to mention," Mahado continued, " Publicly issuing troops would only alert the Thief of our intentions. He would make ready and may choose to attack where our troops are not located."\

Seto would know what to do. Atemu thought wryly. Seto was not a match for the King of Games, partially due to his health, partially due to his fate, but he was more than a match when it comes to real life strategy. As if reading his thoughts, his other advisor, Shada, repeated his thoughts out loud. " Perhaps it is wise to consult the his priesthood Seto."

But Seto was ill, and had taken to coughing. It made Atemu anxious because every day he is ill may be his last, at the rate things were going.

" Perhaps," The High Priestess suggested, " It would be wiser to issue a less public order of assassins. After all, it takes an assassin to know an assassin's ways."

" Nay, we have no such assassins we can name to defeat Bakura." Mahado told her. " Not to mention it will reflect badly on my Pharaoh."

Pharaoh Atemu suddenly stood. " Court adjourned." He said abruptly, leaving the throne. A bit startled, his advisors did not leave immediately, but it was obvious where their King was going.

oO

Atemu had waited for a while for his priest to wake, something unheard of. For a Pharaoh to show such respect for his priest was almost heinous, but it was not so much respect as regard. Seto needed his rest, and there was no reason why he should not sleep an hour more. After all, his advice given an hour early will not be an hour more helpful.

The Pharaoh sat by the bedside of the ailing priest. Seto's face was flushed with fever, his breath still rattling from pneumonia. It was faint and weak and frail. The fact that Seto was so far gone that he did not sense the King was troubling. The Pharaoh sighed.

At length, Seto finally woke, seeming with a headache, for he reached up to his head before opening his eyes. He was visibly startled.

" Pharaoh," He breathed, then started coughing. Atemu patted his arm, feeling helpless.

" I have been unfair to you." Atemu told him, risking his dignity by admitting this, and he was forced to swiftly say, " But alas, that is how the world is. I need your advice, friend."

The High Priest's hair was damp with sweat, but the youth pushed himself up so that he was more upright. The pharaoh did not help him, instead directly explaining what trespassed during the court.

The youngest of the High Priests grinned a wry grin. Seto was a genius because he could understand people. He understood their weaknesses and their strengths and knows how to manipulate them to his, or his pharaoh's, favor. this did not limit to the members of the court, but beyond. Name any King from any foreign land, and Seto will tell you how to dethrone him, or make him mighty. It was what set him apart from other priests, despite his youth.

" Bakura is proud of his Shadow Magic." Seto was instantly all business, though his coughing did much to hinder him. " His bandit followers are not so formidable in shadow magic. In fact, given the situation, I seriously doubt that such is story is anything more than that. It may simply be Bakura's strategy to either pomp himself, or intimidate us. And like any oafish leader, Bakura will not attend to missions himself, which is why there was a distinct lack of any news involving shadow magic during any of the raids."

" You think we need not worry about sending troops?"

" Sending troops is most definitely not a good idea." Seto instantly denounced it. " Unless there is something of great value in the village, Bakura will not see fit to risk his neck, or the neck of his followers. If you send troops there the thieves will relocate."

" Hm." Pharaoh Atemu had thought of this as well, but he had to ask just in case. Then, after a hesitation to wait for Seto to stop coughing, he asked again, " What about assassins?"

" The assassins are not people you can employ at ease." Seto shook his head. " Not to mention, even if you could, they can only get rid of the bandit followers. Bakura can just acquire a new band. What you want is to target the leader, not the followers."

" What will target the leader then?"

Seto thought for a while, his lungs spasming, but his concentration unwavering. " Bakura is a proud thief. He is proud of being able to get anything he wants, no matter the obstacle. Because of this he never backs down from a challenge he finds worth facing. He prides in Shadow Magic because given his underprivileged background it was difficult for him to acquire such a skill, let alone master it. He likes to flaunt this in front of noble priests and usually wins. If your Majesty can present him a challenge that he cannot possibly win, but cannot possibly refuse, you can rightfully ensnare him without losing your popularity."

" What do you propose?"

Seto coughed again, and looked at the Pharaoh gravely. " A Duelist Tournament in the capital. With a noteworthy prize."