Chapter Three: Far from the Tree

"Let's have a look at this list." Isis asked, seated on the small chair on the other side of Atemu's Mahogany workdesk, Atemu naturally taking the main one.

"Um, first we had...cut taxes. Me and Seto discussed eliminating them entirely, I was a little concerned about that." Atemu looked down at the parchment on the desk in front of him, an indented, organized list inked onto it. "We ended up with a ninety-five percent cut in taxes. Y'know, I figure if we eliminate them entirely, it's going to be hard to bring them back in the future. Eventually we will run short on gold, we will need some form of taxation."

"Ninety-five percent sounds good." Isis nodded. "We'll let your...great-great...-great-grandson or whoever worry about raising it when the gold runs low."

"Enhance defenses, obviously." Atemu rubbed his forehead. "I think we should build a wall around the new borders. A big one. We were thinking...six feet thick, thirty feet tall, ten foot deep foundation. He talked about having it re-enforced with steel, maybe a foot of it in the middle or something. I mean, that's pretty bold, but Seto thought it was important. He wanted archer huts every ten feet, stocked with weapons, he wanted oil cauldrons...he wanted everything."

"I hope you earmarked a hefty budget." Isis leaned forward, hands on the desk.

The Pharaoh nodded grimly. "We didn't define a budget, couldn't quite put a finger on what it would need to be. We'll spend whatever it takes. Next, we had...he wanted to put a billion gold debens worth into the public school system. He thinks commoners should have a basic understanding of things beyond just their field of work."

Isis beamed at him. "Listen to you. It's almost as if armies and battles are the last thing on your mind. Your parents, rest their souls, would be so proud of this."

Atemu nodded wistfully. "This is a big one here, the slums and ghettos. We thought they all need to be completely redone. He thought that...we might be able to end poverty. I thought that might have been a little too high of a goal, but he talked me into it. There's no reason why any Egyptian shouldn't be able to put food on the table and a roof over their head. Now that's a huge project, hard to put a pricetag on that."

Isis nodded enthusiastically. "This is...this is all very good, I like all of it."

"Then he went on to...hospitals, another billion there, half to expanding hospitals and the other half to research. Uh...we had half a billion to agriculture, half a billion to livestock...I think that covers it pretty well. Obviously we'll put some into the army, but if the wall is good enough we hardly need it."

"It's a magnificent plan." Isis continued to beam. "You've outdone even yourself, my Pharaoh."

He picked the parchment off the table, extending his right hand out toward her. She took it.

"Could you distribute that to the relevant individuals? I want all of that to go into effect the moment I've auctioned off the lands."

She nodded, standing up and bowing. "Immediately, sir."

"Oh...and could you send a guard to escort Ammon here?" He asked cautiously.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, smile falling.

"I...I just want to talk with him." He replied, rubbing his forehead again. "It's just...he's going to become Pharaoh very soon, and I need to be frank with him about some things first."

Isis frowned. "With your peace treaty and all of these plans for the new budget, a passive Pharaoh would be ideal. Ammon is the perfect Pharaoh to pioneer this new age of civilization you've designed."

Atemu gave a quick sigh. "I know, I know...in a perfect world, Ammon would make the perfect Pharaoh. But the world isn't perfect. What if something goes south during his reign and he has to make some tough decisions? I mean, I could build a wall ten feet thick and a hundred feet tall, but things can still happen."

"I'm sure in the event of disaster, your son will be perfectly fine." Isis insisted. "All you can do is work to prevent such a disaster from occuring, the rest is up to him."

"That's what concerns me." Atemu looked down sadly. "I...I need to talk to him."

She pursed her lips, but nodded all the same. "Very well." Isis turned to leave. "I'll have him brought here."

""""

Atemu stared at his son, sitting opposite him on the chair Isis had sat on moments before. Arms crossed and right cheek sucked inside of his teeth, Atemu considered his son. He had inherited his father's good looks, that he could clearly see. Tall and well-built, he had the physical look of a Pharaoh to be sure.

"Did you call me in here to stare at me?" Ammon asked dryly.

"Son...you could have any woman you want. Any woman in the world." Ammon rolled his eyes, but he pressed on. "You could...you could hop in a carriage right now, go on a cross-country trek across the entire civilized earth, look at every single woman, point at any of them and say you'd like her to be your bride...and she would be. She would fall to her knees and weep in joy. Any woman in the world. You do understand that, right?"

"You called me in here to tell me that?" Ammon shot, glaring at his father. "Thanks?"

"I'm just saying, you don't have to settle-"

"I am not settling." Ammon spat, scowling. "What's...what's your problem? What's your problem with Mana?"

"I...I have no problem with Mana." Atemu swallowed. "I am merely saying that you could have any woman."

"I know." Ammon glared to his left, arms still folded tightly. "And I don't love any of them like I do Mana."

Atemu sighed, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. "I know...I know...look, I'm sorry, it's just that-"

"I don't understand you, father." He grunted. "Mana is beautiful, intelligent, kind, sweet...she served you loyally for fifteen years...she even has her own palace. I don't even have my own palace. She's lived among royalty most of her life, it's not like I'm plucking some girl off the streets barefoot and broke."

"She was once that." Atemu noted offhand.

"It doesn't matter. She's a wonderful woman, and you know it. Everything I just said about her, you know, all of it. You have never given me a single reason why I shouldn't marry her-"

"I never said there was a reason why you shouldn't marry her-"

"Dad." Ammon grimaced. "Cut the crap. We both know it. You don't want me to marry her. But you won't tell me why."

Atemu glanced up at the ceiling. "I'd...I'd rather not say."

"Well I'd rather not give a crap what you think." Ammon replied coldly. "I'm...I'm sorry, but I love her. I'm sorry you don't understand, you couldn't. You've never really loved a woman, loved a woman the way I love Mana-"

"D-don't say that." Atemu put his face in his hands, sighing. "That's not true. That's not true, I loved your mother-"

"Yeah, you loved her so much you had her killed." Atemu dropped his hands to the desk, glaring up at his son. "Yeah dad. I know. I know you think I'm stupid, but I'm not. I'm not that stupid at least."

Atemu closed his eyes, pursing his lips tightly.

"Ammon-"

"I don't want to hear it." His son growled, standing up. "I'm sure you had your...your reasons, and I'm sure they made sense in that screwed up head of yours. I don't want to hear it."

He looked up at his son. "Does your sister know?"

Ammon looked down at the carpet. "I don't think so. At least I haven't told her. I haven't told anyone. They wouldn't believe me. But I've always known. I lived in denial about it for a long time, but...I've known." He looked back up. "Are you going to have me killed now?"

"Ammon, I'm sorry." He exhaled deeply. "I'd...I'd give anything to take it back, not a day goes by when I don't wish I could-"

"Well that makes it all better, doesn't it?" he said sarcastically. "You assassinated your own wife in cold blood. Such a man could never know love the way I do with Mana."

"I did love her." Atemu said, voice starting to fail him. "V-very much. I'm sorry, I did...I did something terrible, something I never should have done. I...I wish I could go back, make it right. Every day, I wish I could just go back and make it right."

"Well, you can't." He turned to the door. "I'm going to marry her. If you don't want to give me your blessing, then...well, I'll live."

Atemu looked down, shaking his head. "I don't think you're stupid."

"Could've fooled me." Ammon replied bitterly.

"I'm...I'm doing this all for you, you know." The Pharaoh gestured at the assorted papers on his brown desk. "This...this peace, this territory auction, I'm trying to make this easy for you. It's all for you."

Ammon exhaled sharply, then turned back around. "No it's not. You're doing this to make yourself feel better."

Atemu darted his eyes around the room quickly, nostrils flaring. "Okay. Okay, fine! You're right! I'm brokering a worldwide peace for me. All for me, entirely selfish reasons. Sure, whatever. Think...think whatever you want, it doesn't matter. The point is, it's going to happen. Within the next two moon cycles, I'm going to hand you the throne. We're not talking about...someday or in a couple years here. As soon as I feel comfortable with the implementation of new policies after the auction, I'm stepping down."

"I-I know." Ammon rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What are you getting at?"

"You're going to become the most powerful man on the planet. The mortal extension of the gods. The vessel through which they dictate the course of mankind. And I'm going to be the one to hand you that responsibility, I want to know that you're going to do the right things when the difficult decisions come." Atemu stared pleadingly at his son.

Ammon closed his eyes and shook his head. "Do...do all Pharaohs do this to their sons at some point? Or am I just an idiot? Am I special?"

"Look, it's...the things I've seen, the things I've done...what I know...you should, I would hope, try to draw on that. I wish I had taken more from my father, even with everything I've done." He pushed the loose strands of hair out of his face. "It's not that I want to make you unhappy, there's a reason why I say the things that I say. Even if I don't explain everything to you, I wish you'd at least have faith in the fact that the reasons are good. So when I say that there's a reason why you shouldn't marry Mana-"

"Dad." Ammon held his hand up, palm out, by the side of his face, turning back around. "Dad, I'm...I'm not having this conversation with you right now."

The Pharaoh pursed his lips tightly, looking around the room as if in search of help. "My son, he hates me." Ammon began a quick trek across the workroom, toward the exit door opposite Atemu. The elder man sighed, covering the upper half of his face with his right hand. "He really does, he...he hates me. I, I can't believe it." He shook his head as Ammon paused at the door.

"I don't hate you, dad." Ammon looked back at his father, his expression still tight and frustrated. "I...I dread you."

With that, he pushed through the door and shut it behind him, leaving the Pharaoh to continue looking at the walls for the invisible parental advisor that would never show up.

""""

"He's difficult." Atemu set his fig back down on his gold plate, looking across the small, two-person, round marble table at his lovely daughter. "I wish he could channel that fiery hatred he has for me towards passion for being Pharaoh."

"He doesn't hate you." Asenath insisted, holding a date between her right thumb and forefinger, eyes on her father. "How could he hate you?"

Atemu sighed, taking a bite out of his honeyed bread slice. "Me and him, we are so different. My father used to tell me that our family line always produced men cut from a similar mold. Able to delicately balance all the emotions that have to go into leading Egypt. So many generations of men, he said they were all...good men. Tough, but fair. Masculine, confident, daring, adaptable, wise..." he smirked inwardly. "I told my father he was crazy. Said me and him were nothing alike. He said he was a lot like me when he was my age, he grew into the man he ended up being. As did his father and his father before him."

"Well there you go then. Ammon still has time to grow." Asenath comforted, reaching across the table and touching Atemu's left hand with her right.

"This is different." He picked a stick of celery from the plate. "He's...he's nothing like I was when I was that age. My father said, as different as we were, he could spot the seed in me. Said there was always the seed of the man you become later. I was...I was always confident in everything I did. I carried myself like a Pharaoh. I don't know what he carries himself like, but...have you seen the way he acts around Mana?" He massaged his forehead. "It's...embarrassing."

She gave a little giggle. "I'd be flattered if a man behaved that way in my presence."

"Well, they should." He said gruffly. "You're a princess of Egypt, you're beautiful, you're...you're everything. You're the most desirable woman in the world. And my son, my son should be the most desirable man, but he...he carries on like a lovesick romantic apprenticed to a blacksmith, wooing some merchant's daughter, it's maddening." He slid the plate to the edge of the table, planting his forehead on the marble surface. "Is it really going to be my seed that destroys the family lineage?"

"He's a good boy, he'll be fine." She leaned toward him, giving a warm, comforting smile.

"They are going to beat the crap out of me in the afterlife." He moaned, rocking his head back and forth on the table. "What the hell, Atemu? Is that your son or your daughter on the throne?"

"Hey!" she said playfully, smacking the Pharaoh's hand.

"I can see it now." He looked up, smiling inspite of his somber talk. "But...enough on that. Let's talk about...peace."

"It's going to be wonderful." She smiled again. "Mother used to talk about peace. I was very young then, I only remember vague emotions and general statements. But I remember peace."

Atemu cast his eyes down guiltily, nodding with a quick headbob. "It is a travesty she can't be here to see this."

"Wherever she is, I'm sure she's very happy." She remarked.

This did nothing to comfort Atemu, given what he knew about Teana. Anubis had no doubt condemned her to suffer as much pain as he could inflict on a mortal, so horrible was her crime. Once, that thought had made him feel better, a solace of comfort. Now, it caused nothing but the burning sensation of guilt.

"Yes." he said quietly. "You deserve to be princess of a kingdom at peace." He took both of her hands in his, clasping them together over the table. "All these years you sat in the palace of a kingdom at war, it was a sin. A horrible, terrible sin. A sin I am at fault for, and one I now hope to atone for."

"They were hardly beating down on the palace walls." She said, leaning forward to kiss Atemu's wrinkled hands.

"It doesn't matter. Egypt will build you a grand, impenetrable wall, through which no enemy force can even dream of attacking through, and you will spend the rest of your long, healthy life never even considering the possibility of violence and bloodshed. I will eliminate crime, poverty, disease, everything that stains this world with an evil presence, I will cast out in my final act as Pharaoh." Atemu's eyes glazed over, a smile crossing his face. "The gods want the mortal earth to be a perfect utopia, you know. They just want us to earn it. And I will earn it, for everyone. For you."

She nodded happily.

""""

"Well, he's his father's son." Mahad remarked, handing Atemu a small stack of parchment. Mahad was seated on the edge of his bed, a wooden cane of carved oak laying on the mattress next to him. Quite suddenly, his eyes widened and he hastily made to stand up, grunting in some pain.

"Sit down." Atemu insisted, motioning with his hand back toward the bed, standing just off to the side of the bed. "I insist."

"Thank you, my Pharaoh." Mahad quickly eased himself back into a sitting position, hands on his knees. "My apologies, the doctors said I shouldn't be-"

"It's not for a lack of respect." Atemu comforted him. "I want you well again."

They both then turned to look at Wati, standing at attention with his back to the door, face an emotionless slate.

"They ran him through multiple types of intelligence tests down in the library." Mahad recalled, looking at the youth. "His scores on all of them are in the top twelve, at least, all-time in the scholar's archives for a fourteen year old. Very smart."

"How did you come across all of this knowledge?" Atemu looked the papers over quickly, taking in only bits and pieces of the information, knowing Mahad would run down relevant data.

"I spent more than fourteen years locked in my room." Wati recalled, still clearly a tad bitter. "Nothing to do in there but read most of the time."

"I ran him through some priest tests, he's got the theory down pat. If Seto's blood really does run through his veins, he could be a great one."

Atemu smiled. "At ease." Wati relaxed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You done with him then?"

"He's done all the tests, passed everything with flying colors." Mahad scratched the top of his head. "We ran him through some physical exams as well, he's a specimen."

"Lots of weightlifting in that room growing up?" Atemu asked. A glare of annoyance crossed Wati's face for a split second but quickly left.

"You might say that. I ran a lot of laps around my bed." Wati smiled wryly.

"He could be a general, a scholar, an elite priest, a businessman...just about anything he wants if these tests indicate anything." Mahad shrugged. "Personally I'd jump at the chance to make him my apprentice."

"I've already been taught by the best." Wati said coolly. "You can be my apprentice, how about that?"

Atemu chuckled, stepping forward to clasp him on the shoulder. "Be careful now, Mahad is a very powerful and very good priest in his own right."

"My father was better." He responded, shooting a glance at Mahad. Atemu glanced back at his aged priest, who simply shrugged.

"I'll leave you to sleep." Atemu spun Wati toward the door, hand still on his shoulder. "Let's take a walk."

""""

"I have made...a rather pitiful effort to keep my inner circle well-stocked." The pair were walking through the large, grand hallways of Atemu's palace now, torches lighting the marble walls at every turn. "Many of my trusted advisors, my most powerful priests have passed over the years and I never could bring myself to replace them. There are many reasons for it. I did not feel I could adequately replace my childhood friends. To have someone so much younger than me on the inner circle would be strange. I didn't see the point. It simply never happened, and now I am down to two people that I truly trust."

Wati just looked at all of the wall decorations, listening as he took in the lavish ornaments. He hadn't been in this part of the palace quite yet.

"But you...you of god blood, you of Seto's lineage, you are someone I would welcome into my trusted circle." Atemu again clapped him on the back with his right hand. "So, how about I cut through some of the traditional procedures and get you right up to full priesthood, with special priviledges to live in the palace?"

"I would appreciate that very much, my Pharaoh." Wati stated, looking at a large oil paiting of Atemu's great grandfather as they passed on down the halls.

"Now, I probably shouldn't be saying this, but...given who you are, I'll just go ahead. If I like what I see, before I step down, I'll place you in the inner circle. A final gift to my son, a truly potent priest to advise him. You can learn from Isis and Mahad before they pass on, and son you'll be high priest. You will be at the head of a youth movement within that circle as my son brings in others. If you show some real potential over this next moon or so, I will make you high priest." He guided him around a corner, arm out dramatically in front of him. "You will be the second most powerful man in the world, just like your father was. We haven't known each other very long, but I've seen enough. This feels right, it makes sense, why else would you have appeared to me when you did?"

"So you really intend to step down?" He asked, lips pursed.

"Well...well yes. Pass it on to my son." Atemu cleared his throat. "It's tradition to keep on the members of your father's inner circle until they die or retire, I'm sure my son will gladly accept you, and there's no doubt in my mind you will be high priest after Isis is gone."

"Yes sir. I will not disappoint you. My abilities will be put on full display over the next moon." Wati said, the pair approaching another turn.

"Good, good, I'll have you-"

They took the turn at the same time as another was taking the turn from the other side, his movements rushed and chaotic. So the figure flew into the hallway, colliding with Wati, sending him falling back to the floor. The rushing man fell over into a heap against the opposite wall, Atemu stepping back to observe the collision.

"Hey!" Wati jumped up, fists at the ready. "Watch it!"

"S-sorry." The second man said, looking up from the floor. It was Ammon, his eyes quickly going from his father to Wati. "W-wait." Wati approached the prince, face twisted into a scowl and fists still held up. "Who the hell are you?" Ammon spat.

"I'm the guy who knows how to walk! You must be the other guy." Wati retorted as Ammon pushed himself back up.

"Hey, you know who you're talking to?" Ammon hissed, coming into an upright position. Atemu simply stood there and watched the scene, noting that the two were about the same height even though Wati still had years of growing to do. "The guy you're talking to?" He pointed at his father. "I'm his son. I'm the prince. Kinda a big deal, you know?"

Wati only stood there, now folding his arms over his chest, looking entirely unimpressed by the prince.

"W-who are you? Some...servant boy being shown the areas you're going to mop at night?" He looked around at the hall. "Well, make sure you get the corners real good or they'll stick you in the stocks and whip you raw, now if you'll excuse me-"

He tried to push past the fourteen year old, but Wati would have none of it. He reached up and grabbed Ammon by the collar, lifting him up a few inches by it.

"You take that back, right now." Wati hissed. "I'm not-"

"Put him down." Atemu said sternly, leaning against the left wall.

Slowly, Wati set him back down on the floor, letting go of his robes. But he immediately thrust his finger into Ammon's face after he was back on ground level. "Take it back."

"Oh. Oh, I know who you are." Ammon said suddenly, backing up and looking the youth over a few times. "Oh yeah, you're Seto's bastard child."

Wati flinched at the word, hands balling up into fists at his sides.

"Yeah, you're the unholy spawn of Seto's...what do you call it...sordid affair with a slave girl?" He gave a cruel smirk. "Man, that must suck, being a bastard child of such a screwed up relationship. I mean, you shouldn't even exist, your mere existence is a black spot on mankind! How...how does that feel?" He got up closer to the now seething Wati. "How does it feel to be a bastard-"

Ammon caught a mean right hook square in the jaw from Wati, sending him crashing to the floor, red mark on his cheek. Wati bent down with intention to pick him up and continue the fight, but Atemu grabbed his shoulder. Wati turned to look at the Pharaoh.

"I'm standing right here." Atemu monotoned, shooting both of them glares. Ammon rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing the red welt on his cheek.

"Yeah, and you heard what he said!" Wati yelled, pointing at the prince.

"All of it the truth." Ammon said dryly, turning around and starting to walk away.

"I will not have my son and my nephew quarrelling like two peasant boys fighting over the last bowl of pudding." Atemu said matter-of-factly. "Now, I want both of you to shake hands and apologize."

"Yeah, right." Ammon muttered, turning the corner back the way he came, disappearing into another hall. "Bastard..."

Wati made to break from the Pharaoh's grasp and chase after the prince, but Atemu pulled him back.

"Priests do not resort to violence unless it is absolutely necessary." Atemu spun the youth around to face him.

"You heard what he said!" He pointed down the hallway. "What do you want me to do?"

"To ignore him, as should a priest." Atemu said seriously, glancing down the hall where his son had disappeared. "I'm not defending him, but to be a priest is to see the big picture. Those insults mean nothing to anyone, anywhere, at any time."

Slowly, Wati nodded. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Atemu patted the top of his head, having to reach up a little to do so. "I apologize for my son, he's usually nothing like that. I wish he was that fiery all the time, but he's not like that."

"You want me to serve him?" Wati asked, eyes wide and a smirk on his face. "That little weasel? I'm supposed to advise and take orders from him?"

"I'm sure he'll be looking for you tomorrow to apologize, he probably feels bad already. He's actually a real nice guy, passive, doesn't want to hurt anyone. He's...he's just mad at me right now. He...he saw me and took it out on you. He didn't mean any of it." Atemu insisted, straightening Wati's robes out.

"I don't know which one I'd rather serve." Wati remarked, pushing the hair off of his forehead. "The weasel or the wimp."

Atemu felt bad but couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, between the two, he's much more of a wimp." He admitted. "That's why he needs you." He pointed at Wati. "The two of you, you'll make up, get to know each other a bit, and soon you'll wonder how you ever got along without each other. You'll find you need each other. C'mon, it was a bad first impression, don't let it destroy everything."

Wati sighed, but grudgingly nodded. "Alright. I'll play my part."

"Good, good." Atemu smiled. "Now, let's get you to the temple, and we'll see what you can do."