"It's because of the grain shortages. Merchants and vendors are raising prices to levels that force peasants into theft to feed their families. That theft in turn is used as excuse for greater injustices," Seth explained as he walked down the hallway, two paces behind the Pharaoh.
The Pharaoh nodded in acknowledgement of his words and asked, "What do you recommend?"
"I feel the best course of action would be to impose a maximum limit to the price sellers are able to charge for grain," Seth replied, having already thought every which way around the problem, just as the Atemu trusted he would have. "This will minimize the burden to the poor and prevent merchants from profiting on their country's misfortune."
"That's an excellent suggestion, Seth. Thank you." Atemu smiled; fallout from the effects of the summer's drought had been making themselves more and more pronounced in the past few weeks and it had been increasingly weighing on the Pharaoh's mind.
"My Pharaoh," Mahad interjected at the pause. "If the army's rations were cut by ten percent, it would save enough grain to last an additional four months, if the unfortunate event should transpire of another drought in the coming season."
Atemu nodded slowly. "Ten percent is a significant cut," he said doubtfully.
"But if it prevents a famine in the coming year, I believe the sacrifice to be well worth it," Mahad said.
"I agree with Mahad," Seth offered. "The army is well disciplined and should easily be able to understand the need."
"It is not the soldiers I am concerned for so much as their families," Atemu said, shaking his head. "Having less food for their wives could lead to an increase in the number of children our people are forced to bury."
Mahad nodded, understanding his concern. "If the rations were to be cut by only six-percent, then it is-"
The conversation was cut off abruptly when a heavy weight landed against Atemu's back and he felt his arm being jerked up behind his back as a knife was pressed to his throat.
Mahad and Seth both had swords drawn in an instant, pointed toward the Pharaoh's captor. "You damned thief!" Seth snarled, eyes burning with rage.
"Release the Pharaoh immediately, Bakhura," Mahad ordered in a more controlled voice.
Bakhura's voice started giggling and then fully laughing just behind Atemu's ear. Atemu held perfectly still, waiting for the bandit to finish. The knife at his throat didn't shake even as the rest of Bakhura's body seemed to tremor with the laughter; the Bandit King had sure hands if not a sure mind. The laughing died into scattered giggles and Atemu felt Bakhura's face press against his shoulder as his captor seemed to attempt to reign in his glee.
A moment later, Bakhura lifted his face and whispered into Atemu's ear, "I win!"
"I can see that, Bakhura," Atemu said calmly. "You surprised me. I was unprepared."
Bakhura let out a childlike laugh laced with abandon at what, to his mind, counted for praise.
"Unhand our Pharaoh at once, dog!" Seth shouted, taking a step toward them, his sword pointed at the bandit's head.
"Seth, please," Atemu said calmly, waving his free hand in a placating manner as Bakhura started to giggle again.
"You're just upset because you lost!" he declared.
"Bakhura, you've won, I concede. Now, would you please let me go," Atemu requested in a cool, level voice.
The knife vanished from his throat, disappearing somewhere into Bakhura's garments without so much a flash of bronze, as he laughed and hopped back, looking utterly smug with himself. Mahad moved to stand closer to Atemu and Seth stormed forward and pressed the tip of his sword to Bakhura's throat. The bandit made no attempt to step away from the blade, merely smirking at the priest.
"Bakhura," Atemu sighed, shaking his head. "You've interrupted a very important discussion about the nation's economy. Would you please allow us to continue?"
"Sure, sure," Bakhura agreed, his lips pulling back from his teeth into an almost grimace-like grin. He took a backwards-step away from Seth's sword and then spun and pranced away down the hall, shouting back over his shoulder. "But I won!"
"I know you did!" Atemu called at the retreating back. He then rubbed his hands against his face, sighing again and feeling tired.
"Damn that mad bastard!" Seth growled next to him. "He should be executed!"
"He is dangerous, my Pharaoh," Mahad said in a quieter tone. "Wouldn't it be wise to arrest his movements somewhat?"
Atemu shook his head slowly and let out a humorless chuckle. "I made a bargain with him. The gods would not look kindly upon me reneging on such a promise." He turned and started walking again the way they had been before the surprise-attack. "And even if Osiris could forgive me that sin, the blood-debt I owe to Bakhura would weigh on my heart."
Mahad sighed, shaking his head. "My Pharaoh's heart is truly a thing to be admired," he said. "Don't you think we should have at least confiscated the knife?"
"He'd just steel himself a new one and then one of my guards would likely find themselves to be ill-equipped at an inopportune moment," Atemu reasoned, shrugging it off.
"He's a bottom-feeder who doesn't deserve Pharaoh's kindness," Seth grumbled, replacing the sword at his hip and following along.
"I think he never received any before," Atemu mused. "A man is not born with darkness in his soul."
...
Atemu gazed out over the city, at the dim lights of lamps burning within mud-brick houses and at the bright, piercing lights above. The moon hadn't risen yet and so no other light dared to rival the stars' intensity. He sighed and leaned on the rail, thinking upon the day's excitement.
Seth wasn't the only member of his court who spoke against Bakhura being granted so much leniency. Nearly everyone, with the exceptions of Mahad and Mana, voiced their objections quite regularly. They said that the Pharaoh had invited a snake into his home, and they were, of course, right. Bakhura was far from being a tamed serpent and even if he hadn't had a love for his assassination-attempt games, his presence still would have made many uneasy.
"Show me."
"What?" Bakhura's expression had shifted suddenly from furious accusations and frigid mirth to puzzlement.
"You must have proof of what you say, to make such an outrageous accusation against my father's name. Show me," Atemu had demanded.
Bakhura had looked startled for a moment, as though completely unprepared for such a challenge, but he quickly recovered his mad humor and grinned at the monarch. "No proof that can be carried on a horse," he'd said slyly. "The proof is in the ruins of Kul'elna."
"Then show me," Atemu had said, standing.
Bakhura hadn't been prepared to be believed. He had lived his life as an outsider to society and had grown accustomed to being called a liar. But the prince Atemu had long been aware of some dark secret which had plagued his father, and the bandit's words had intrigued him. The Pharaoh hadn't realized it at the time, but his decision to hear out the perpetrator of a capitol crime had so surprised the bandit as to entice him into complying with the request for proof. And he had given it.
"You see? You see?" Bakhura had sung, jumping on top of the alter stone a throwing his arms wide. "This is my proof! Everything I've said is true! I am the last son of Kul'elna and the Millenium Items are my rightful inheritance!"
"And what would you do with them if you had them?" Mahad had asked, one hand gripping the Millenium Ring in a suspicious way, as though he expected it to be ripped away at any moment.
"I will return them to where they belong!" Bakhura crowed, pointing to the stone under his feet. "And finish what your Akunum'kanon began! My people's outrage will bathe this world in darkness!"
"Unacceptable!" Atemu had said immediately. "Whatever your people may have suffered, Bakhura, I can not give you the Millenium Items for this purpose!"
"Give? Give? No need for giving, oh god-king! I would much rather take!" Bakhura declared with gleeful rancor.
"Bakhura, listen to me! Doing this thing will not bring your people's souls justice or solace!" Atemu had said. "Return to the capitol with me! I will give you scribes to record the legacy of Kul'elna and what happened here! It will be written in stone so that no one may ever deny what happened to your people!"
He seemed to have surprised Bakhura again, as the bandit gave him a wide-eyed look of interest.
"Your legacy also will be recorded and when your body dies, you will be given the funeral rite of a noble! The people of Kul'elna will become immortal through you!"
Atemu was startled out of his reverie by someone making a clicking sound with their mouth, as though to urge a horse forward. He turned around to find Bakhura sitting on an awning above him, swinging his feet idly in the air. His teeth flashed in the starlight.
"Did you notice?" the bandit asked.
Atemu blinked and then thought for a moment. "Apparently not," he replied. "What?"
Bakhura tossed something towards him that gleamed brightly in the darkness. Atemu caught the object and examined it. It was a gold armband. He glanced down to the space on his right bicep, where he remembered placing it this morning. A small, involuntary smile crossed the Pharaoh's lips. "You took that when you caught me earlier?"
"I double-won!" Bakhura laughed, jumping down onto the balcony with the grace of a cat.
"I suppose you did," Atemu agreed, sliding the arm band back into place. "You put Seth quite out of sorts in the process."
"Three-times a winner then!" he declared with a cackle and leaned a hip against the balcony.
"Upsetting Seth is a win?" Atemu asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hm, perhaps you're right, it's too easy," the bandit giggled. "Play dice with me?"
"You're rather energetic today," Atemu noted with a small smirk.
"I slept," Bakhura explained. "But I don't think I'll do it again."
Atemu sighed. One of the more frequent complaints about the bandit was that he didn't seem to sleep. When asked, he'd said that it was too much like death for his taste. This left him skulking the palace and city at odd hours of the night, much to the chagrin of the nighttime watch.
"I'll play dice for a little while," Atemu conceded. "But I do intend to sleep tonight."
"Fair enough," Bakhura agreed with a shrug. He waved his hand and produced a set of finely crafted ivory dice.
Atemu raised an eyebrow. "Whose are those?"
"Mine, now." The bandit grinned cheekily.
Atemu shook his head; better to just let it go. "Just tell me you didn't take them out of somebody's grave," he asked.
Bakhura blew air through his teeth dismissively. "Half the fun is waiting for Seth to notice."
...
...
A/N:
I mentioned 'blood-debt' in here, but honestly, I have no idea if that concept was important in this era of Egypt or anything... I thought that I could either do several hours, possibly several days of research to find assure myself of the accuracy of that sentence, or I could just say 'screw it.' I decided on the latter.
Promising Bakhura a historical record and a 'noble's funeral rite' might sound like a kind of lame bribe taken in a modern context, but in the ancient Egyptian beliefs, your soul lives as long as your name and your face are remembered and your mummified body is preserved, so basically, the Pharaoh's just promised him immortality.
The dice being Seth's came as an afterthought. I suppose Bakhura likes tormenting him because he gets annoyed the loudest...
I rather like this snowglobe (micro-AU) I shall ponder writing more in here... Suggestions are welcome, but no pouting if I reject one, I'm obsessive-compulsive about logic and reason behind stuff, so it has to feel realistic (within its own context) to me for me to be able to write it.
See the 'Nomenclature' link on my profile for an explanation about my spelling of the Thief King's name.