a/n: Hmmm, it seems that I have already gotten to chapter 4 of this fic... doesn't seem like I started it that long ago either... oh well!
Better for you readers out there, if any...
Here it is then, minna!
Enjoy! ^.-
Chapter 4
Audience with the Pharaoh
Atem yawned tiredly as he sauntered slowly through the bright golden hallway, each step he took heavy and weighted as his bleary violet eyes shifted to the passing servants, whom were carrying his father's breakfast to his chamber; the young prince was still quite astounded as to the proceedings of the previous evening, but was silently pleased with the unusual turn of events—perhaps he and his father could mend the damage that had been done unto their bonds and return things back to how they had once been, superseding all else that had been placed before him.
That thought alone brought a cheery, crisp smile to his handsome features as he picked up his pace, hoping to surprise his tutors by arriving a little earlier than that of what was normal for the slightly tardy young prince; his father had been less than pleased when he had found that his son was instead of studying playing with the peasant children of the palace.
Atem never wanted a repeat of the lecture that he had received from his fuming father; if Set was said to have been the epitome of all evil incarnation, then surely he too would cower in the presence of the displeased, thoroughly enraged Pharaoh.
Shuddering at the memory, Atem's trotting became a light jog as he pounded down the stone stairwell, keen on arriving before his mentors did; as the young prince rounded a corner, however, he ran into a startlingly familiar body, stumbling backwards slightly as he vainly tried to regain his composure—a pair of strong, firm hands latched onto his shoulders, rooting him in place of where he currently stood, the royal boy at one point struggling to stop himself from falling only staring at the large tanned hands that were gripping his small shoulders, wondering how on earth they had managed to prevent his tumble.
Raising his violet orbs, the young prince almost very nearly reeled at the sight of the young boy only known as Seto, whom was looking at him with mild concern, yet was somewhat amused by the prince's reaction to his presence; his sapphire orbs only indicated his ludicrous hilarity of the situation by glowing several different shades of blue, a small smirk emblazoning his lips as he stared back at the more or less uncomfortable figure before him.
"Prince, are thee well since we last encountered?"
"Mm!"
Atem nodded his ascent, eyes darting from his form to see if anyone he knew was present to assist him in his escape; not only was he going to disappoint his father once again by being late, but he felt slightly unnerved being within proximity of this boy—something about him gave the young prince terrible chills.
He was more dangerous on the inside than the out—that he was sure of.
"I see... Is there anything bothering you, highness? You seem... distracted. If I may, is there something that I can do to alleviate your stress?"
The panic only became more prominent when a lethally rapacious expression stole across his darkly handsome features, Seto's eyes narrowing slightly as he watched for the prince's reaction; without warning, he burst into a fit of raucous laughter, the deepness of it startling—it appeared that he was older than Atem had originally presumed.
The confusion he felt mirrored that of the utter bemusement that had dawned upon Seto, whom seemed a little more surprised than anything else; it appeared that he hadn't meant to startle him so, the warming expression that settled on his face enough to soothe Atem's turbulent emotions—he calmed almost instantaneously.
"Prince, if you do not make haste, thou shall be rendered tardy once more; your mentors shan't be pleased to see you arrive late for the sixth consecutive run."
Atem's eyes widened as the realisation dawned on him, and judging by the way Seto gazed at him with stern eyes, and the way the Sun cast down upon them powerful golden rays of light, he assumed that the older boy was right; he was to be scolded for being leisurely belated once more, and he was sincerely not looking forward to it.
With a rushed word of gratitude in Seto's direction, the young prince bolted down the stone hallway, dodging the thick foundations and servants along the way, pants coming out faster due to all of the obstacles in his way, always needing to find a new way to overcome them before finally darting around a sharp corner, flying down the last floor of stairs before hitting the sandy earth of mother Egypt, pumping his legs faster against the hard earth as he ran toward his sword-master's welding shop, where he was to engage in hand to hand combat and sword sparring once again, for the fourth time that week; the exhaustion he felt was nothing compared to that of after his physical training—the man that taught him so was more than just a forceful brute.
He was a deadly powerhouse with endless reserves, and made it a pained point that he would take no opponent lightly, not even one whom was beneath him in all refined qualifications; even as Atem was now, physically inadequate and undeveloped, did his master of swordsmanship face him as an equal, and used his full strength in combat, leaving Atem with many welts, swelling limbs and bruises that took days to heal and fade at a time, even resorting to drawing blood in order to better him in the field—and he had no time in which to let his wounds recover before meeting fist to fist, sword to sword on the 'battlefield' once again.
But it was for the best; after all, he being the heir to the throne meant that he had to be the best in every possible aspect of life, from intellectual study and stratagem to on-field combat—that was the destiny of the Pharaoh.
Atem skidded to a halt as he stopped in front a rather large, well attained building, kempt in every way and form as he pushed the gates open, allowing the guards to close them behind his retreating figure, the men kneeling in respect as he darted passed, flying up another set of stone stairs before running down several winding corridors, his gold sandals clacking loudly against the smooth limestone pathway; turning to his right, he came to an awning that overlooked a large arena, used for the duels that took place between fellow warriors, the large space vacant and more or less available for his convenience—his teacher was nowhere within vicinity of the sandy piece of land, and Atem took it as a sign that he was indeed earlier than usual.
At the time of his usual arrival, Atem would note that his mentor would be either sparring with another fellow soldier, or training his own physicality; this indeed would be a culture shock for his master.
The young prince jumped gracefully from the terrace, landing with a resounding 'thud!' on the solid, craggy earth, the royal boy sidling toward the projection where the weapons were shelved according to weight, type and size, clubs, spears, maces, bows and arrows and swords all propped within the wooden confines, just begging to be chosen; Atem settled for his usual, the sword being something that he was stronger in, and gripped the handle of one that had been weighted to meet his standards, heavy enough for him to struggle with the wielding of it, but enough for him to gradually create more defined muscles in his biceps, the flimsy limbs eventually swelling to solid, moulded perfection—with that he made his way to the centre of the courtyard, and began to practice his swings, thrusts, jabs, spins and slashes, using his full focus and control to counter the imaginary adversaries that had formed in his mind.
Atem rested his full weight on his right leg, before snapping forward and spinning on the ball of his foot, landing a perfect roundhouse kick with the left, slicing it through the arid air as he flicked his wrist, the blade in his palm automatically manoeuvring in slashing motions around his hand, carving through the air with relative ease, only becoming a testament that he had indeed grown stronger, and had become a better swordsman.
He lithely stabbed the empty air, pretending that it were an enemy of Egypt, someone whom wished to destroy his beloved homeland and overtake it, drawing backward before falling to the ground, lashing out with his right foot as if he were tripping a foreign soldier, flipping backwards in time to avoid the inevitable thrusts and jabs that were to be directed at him as son of the Pharaoh, soon to be Pharaoh, crouching low before darting upward, snapping forward like the king brown that had attacked Mahad all those months ago, tearing through the humid atmosphere with a fierce jab to the sky, brow furrowing in deep concentration as sweat coursed down his tanned skin.
A resounding clapping was heard from the outcasts of the terrace, Atem startled out of his fierce conflict only to see his teacher standing alongside his father, both watching with awed expressions on their faces as they gazed intently at the thoroughly exhausted young prince, whom had been training without fail for over an hour, completely drained and parched; he flushed scarlet as he realised that he had had an audience for the duration of his training session, and to know that his father had been watching?
It was thoroughly embarrassing to say the least.
His technique hadn't been strong enough, his thrusts and kicks carrying no real power; it was only a typical reaction when presented with his father, that he would note all of his supposed 'flaws' whilst being in his presence.
"A-Ah! F-Father! What is it that brings thee here?"
Aknamkanon smiled warmly as he took in Atem's sweat-slicked figure, face flushed with emanating heat after his excruciating exercise regime; never before had he seen anyone so dedicated to the practice of the sword, and he could easily determine with much measure that his son would make a fine soldier, and an unbeatable force when sheathed with blade in hand—the sheer persistence that he had conveyed with every stroke of the long blade, with every kick and punch he had thrown... it was unbelievably inspiring to watch, especially since this was his son.
No words could describe the pride that he felt.
"It seems that my son has grown into a fine warrior indeed; my gratitude to your constant guidance and support, Bomani—it has helped him to mature by bounds."
The man in question bowed deeply, caramel eyes lidded as he replied courteously, "It was my distinct pleasure, highness; your son has much promising talent, and has displayed as such—thy thinks that many great things shall happen in the prince's future, and I hope to oversee his training under my tutelage, if that is the Pharaoh's will."
Aknamkanon nodded avidly, his deep violet eyes never leaving Atem's rigid figure as he said something along the lines of 'My son shall only have the best!', Bomani nodding gratefully as he turned his soft gaze to that of his student, smiling crookedly as best he could; with the deep scars that marred his cheeks, it made it increasingly difficult to do anything that wasn't frowning or permanently scowling, but he managed it anyways, receiving an awkward one in return—even after all the time they had spent together, Atem still wasn't used to the man's constant mood changes.
He was always on his toes in case of any personality splits.
"My gratitude for your constant guidance, patience and tutelage, Baruti."
Atem said softly, bowing slightly in a sign of reverence and high regard for the man before him, whom seemed rather taken aback but pleased with the sudden gesture; Aknamkanon simply smiled, before straightening his robes and speaking with booming confidence, deep violet eyes never leaving Atem's sweat-slicked figure.
"Now, my son shall leave by my side, and progress to the throne room in the palace; thy hast a promotion that needs to be addressed, and Atem's presence is of dire necessity. So we take our leave, Bomani; may the Gods have high praise upon you and your health."
With a curt nod in the stunned warrior's direction, the Pharaoh held his hand out to his son, urging him to take hold of it; Atem stood shell-shocked and utterly dumbfounded—it was confounding to think that his father would ever even think to extend his hand to another, let alone him.
But then again, he was slowly learning that his father was more of an enigma than he had first assumed him to be; just when he thought that he had him figured out, he always managed to surprise him in ways that were frustratingly clear for the young prince.
Striding forward, although exacting extreme caution, Atem slowly held out his dirty hand, not sure whether his father would still take the sticky, unclean appendage within the confines of his own manicured, polished one, but once more he left the prince stupefied when he grasped it with no hesitation or disconcertedness written in the plains of his aged face; indeed his father was passing from the world faster than he should have, with every breath he drew, with every grain of sand that was stirred within Egypt—he would surely not live much longer, that much was certain to everyone but Atem, whom could only idolise the man and worship him for who he was, oblivious to Aknamkanon's imminent demise.
The Pharaoh smiled wearily at the now blushing child, whom was to be a man in a few short years; he was afraid that he would not live long enough to witness it for himself, so he relished the fact that he had been able to watch his son grow to this point in his life, even from afar—in spirit he had always been with him, even though Atem had not noticed this.
Aknamkanon would always be proud, of not only his achievements thus far in life, but of his son as a whole, as a person whom would one day ascend the throne as Pharaoh, king of Egypt and all of its people; he was proud of the child that he had created through the love he had for his mother, and knew with all his heart that Atem would make him proud, and would be a far better man than he—the guilt of his past wrongdoings was only a testament to that fact.
Atem gazed at his father in wonder, his brow creasing as he tried in vain to read the emotions that coursed through his dark eyes; what would cause his father to look at him like that?
Like it was the end of the world as they all knew it, and that he needed to drink in his appearance one last time before meeting his end in battle?
It was highly unnerving to say the least, but Atem swallowed his discomfort when his father turned and strode toward the outermost awning, his grip on the prince's hand never faltering even as they made their presences known to the people of their homeland; for the first time in Atem's life, he felt as if he was a part of a family once again, but most of all, he felt as if he had finally captured his father's attention, and gained his trust, pride, and more than anything else, his love.
The young prince shifted uncomfortably as he stood alongside his father's throne, Mahad faithfully remaining by his side as the proceedings began; the sweltering midday heat was unbearably uncomfortable for the already bothered prince, whom had only had time to clean off the grime from his tanned skin before abiding his father's request to join him in the throne room, and he desperately craved a meeting with Anket's creation; the very thought of cool water pressing against his flushed skin had Atem's young mind reeling—oh the basic pleasures of life that most take for granted.
With an irritable sigh, Atem tapped his sandalled foot against the stone of the large area, eyes shifting to what lay in wait outside of the palace's confines; how he wished he was anywhere else...
"Now, onto the main event; escort him in, if you will."
Aknamkanon said cheerily, a smile already on his face as the figure in question strode through the door, exuding much confidence as he knelt before the Pharaoh, eyes shadowed as he gazed stolidly at the limestone tiling at his feet, chin-length hair swaying forward with his head as he spoke with stern politeness.
"My Pharaoh. I beseech thee, to what honour brings thy hither?"
The deep undertones caught Atem's attention, as his gaze snapped back to where Seto kneeled stonily, never once raising his gaze to meet that of the deity before him; it was considered a felon to stare at a God of any shape or form without first been given permission to do so. Aknamkanon laughed airily, eyes holding an amused glint in them as he spoke, watching for the young teen's reaction.
"Ah, the apparel of youth; why is it that thy dresses so formally in my presence? But therein lies the answer—thou afraid'th of what my power and position can do forthwith. But fear not, for the matter does not lie in the 'ditty', as one may entitle it so. I have summoned thee in regards to your abetting of my son."
Seto's cool blue eyes shifted so that they lay upon the suddenly self-conscious prince, whose violet orbs darted to the floor, as if it in itself were more interesting than that of what had just unfurled; when Seto next spoke, Atem could swear that he could hear the smug smirk that had entered his tone.
"I see that the young prince is well; although it brings into question the origins of his embarrassment."
Aknamkanon's gaze moved to that of his stilled son, whom was indeed flushed in the cheeks, neck and ears, bashful about his sudden indiscretion; Atem raised his violet orbs to meet his father's, before hastily retreating them back to the floor, a loud, boisterous laugh filling in the settled din as the Pharaoh shook his head in utter hilarity, returning his inquisitive gaze back to the awaiting Seto, whose eyes remained fixed to the ground.
"Now there, lad, raise your head and meet my eyes; there shan't be consequence for committing such an act, not under my authority."
Seto obeyed without fault, his azure orbs settling on the reclined figure of the lax king, whom stared back with equal subtleness as his eyes skimmed his profile, absorbing his features with very little discretion needed; he being the Pharaoh entitled him to do so, no matter the feelings of discomfort that radiated from the victim of his penetrating, fierce gaze.
After several more moments of careful deliberation on his part, Aknamkanon nodded his ascent, smiling more to himself than anyone else as his verdict became known, the reason as to Seto's sudden summons.
"Well now my boy, as to the reason that I have asked you ro grace us with your presence; not only have you saved my son from the perils of death at such a young age, but your contribution to the upcoming battle against the bandit clan in Kul Elna has been outstanding in its own right. And to add to that, your educational scores were beyond imagining; I have never met a mere commoner that had such a high degree of intelligence! Therefore, I have undertaken to it personally to see you upped in the ranks, and shall become one of my son's future courts-men; but for now, you shall be residing in my court, alongside your fellow superior Mahad, whom shall be the one to tutor you in your role. I have high hopes and expectations for you, Seto, so do me no wrong and make me proud, and many good things shall follow for you henceforward."
Aknamkanon finished his drawling instantly, eyes awaiting Seto's reaction to the news; normally a commoner would have been on the floor kissing his feet, murmuring their hushed words of gratitude, but the Pharaoh was utterly surprised and left highly entertained when he received the exact opposite of his intention.
"I thank thee, my liege, for this opportunity; I shall work hard, and shan't disappoint, you have my word."
Atem watched the display with an alarmed expression; as much as the boy Seto unnerved him, he knew all too well what his father's temper was like when shown such a blatantly rebellious display of apathy, but once more he was left dumbfounded, and reeling right into Mahad's capable arms, whom supported him without fail as he observed the scene in stern silence, sapphire orbs narrowed in on this peasant boy 'Seto'; although they had not yet spoken, Mahad knew that he did not like this mortal child, no matter how high he was held in regard to the Pharaoh—he was a danger to Atem, and since that be the case, the dark haired High Priest was prepared to kill him in order to protect his precious charge.
Aknamkanon laughed once more, his cheery attitude surprising all as he waved off his former comment, ignoring it as if it were a mere foul odour in the air; really this child was a wondrous being.
"Yes, yes, it seems that you are already adjusting to the limelight; Mahad! Have the maids prepare him the appropriate quarters for a member of the court, and escort him around the palace. Atem, my boy, I think it appropriate for you to bathe and—"
The Pharaoh was rudely interrupted by a loud, jovial voice, one that Aknamkanon instantly recognised, the broad grin that spread across his face only a testament to that fact.
"Aknamkanon, it has been far too long a time since we last laid eyes upon each other!"
A man clad in foreign royal garb swept into the large room, smiling enthusiastically as his whitened beard shifted ever so slightly with his rushed movements, the gold jewels that clung to his solid, muscular form only proving that he was a fine warrior and of the same stature of that of Atem's father, whom appeared to look much younger next to this man, when they were more or less likely to have been the same age; Atem's confusion only grew to be more so when a whole royal guard escorted into the room two other figures, as high in status as that of the other man whom had so callously addressed his father in such a boorish matter.
"Ankhkhau! What brings thee here so late into the year? Come to join in on the north's festivities for Anket?"
Aknamkanon inquired with a boyish mirth unseen in many a year as he stood none to gracefully from his throne, striding over to where his old friend and war comrade stood, arms spread in a friendly manner as he engulfed Aknamkanon into an embrace none the likes to which anyone had ever seen before; it made Atem's blood run thin watching the familiar display of manly affection, wondering why it was always someone else that had his father's attention.
"Afraid that that be not the reason as to the purpose of my unannounced visit, old friend; I have first to attend to some serious matters that concern both the pillaged villages surrounding our land, and... certain discrepancies within my son's right to ascension of the throne—once we have dealt the cards, we may relish in the festive spirit."
Aknamkanon nodded fervently as he absorbed the new information, before announcing rather brashly, "Alright, be it as it may, under the strained circumstances of our people and motherland as we know it, we band together to defeat these impending predicaments so that we may be at ease for future activities; let us take our leave, Ankhkhau, so that we can overcome these trials with the sole guidance of Ra and all other Gods that protect us."
Just as they were about to leave the throne room, Aknamkanon abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel just in time to see Mahad escorting both Seto and Atem to the outer vestibule of the large gathering place, seemingly answering one of Seto's questions... or scolding him for an offhanded remark aimed directly at the young prince of eleven.
"Mahad, halt! There be a few things I need of my son, so please, take your leave and guide Seto to his resting place; the two of you shall soon be reunited, so be at ease. Atem, come hither for a brief preamble."
Atem glanced anxiously up at Mahad, whom seemed uncomfortable with the thought of entertaining the sly 'peasant boy' by his own intermission, but he reluctantly nodded his ascent, the young prince very nearly gagging at the thought of being involved in one of his father's affairs, but was not quick to defy, as he made haste toward where the Pharaoh stood, waiting for his slightly tardy son with more patience than he had ever seen in a very long time, not since he was merely an infant only just learning to walk.
Once he stood alongside his father, Atem quickly glanced at the retreating figures of Mahad and Seto, wanting nothing more than to be there with them, no matter how many mocking jeers the former commoner threw at him; it was far more appealing than being involved with someone of distinctly foreign stature.
"Ankhkhau, it be my utmost pleasure to acquaint thee with thy son, Atem, the future Pharaoh of this part of the land!"
In regards to his introduction, Ankhkhau turned his stern gaze upon that of Aknamkanon's offspring, his dark onyx eyes boring into his as he looked over the young prince's profile; then, out of nowhere, the foreign king burst into a raucous fit of laughter, clapping his hands on both Atem's and his father's shoulders, obsidian orbs sparkling with amusement as he stared at the two with keen fervency.
"There be no need to be afraid, little one! Thy thinks that you be disconcerted now that that young High Priest is out of your sight!"
Atem flushed a light shade of pink, a testament to the accuracy in which Ankhkhau's statement had lead to, only bringing more laughter, joined by that of his father, and a slightly more timid woman behind the foreign king; his embarrassment seemed to be the highlight of everyone's day thus far. As if almost remembering something important, the Pharaoh of the southern region of Egypt straightened, before turning around and grabbing the hand of the stunningly attractive woman behind, along with a sleeker form, that remained hidden from his sights, obscured by the two figures.
"Ah, now this be my beloved wife, Kamilah; as thee can see, she is the living embodiment of 'perfection'."
Said woman blushed crimson, before bowing gracefully, her pristine sapphire orbs startlingly dark next to that of Mahad's and Seto's, her long black locks tied tautly into several complicated looking plaits that had Atem wondering how on earth they managed to keep them in their place, before she returned to her original stance, face hardening considerably as she spoke with a stiff voice.
"It be a pleasure to meet you both; I hope that our nations can pull together so that we may live to rein for millennia to come."
Atem and Aknamkanon nodded in unison, Ankhkhau chuckling fondly at the sight, before stepping to the side and gesturing to the darkened figure that was obscured behind one of the foundations in the throne room, his hushed voice soothing and kind as he turned back to face the other royals, hand extended to the dark patch as he spoke.
"Now it be my utmost pleasure to acquaint thee with my daughter. Masika, if you will."
Atem watched intently as an unusually pale hand reached out to the extended one of the foreign king, grasping it carefully as a young girl of around his age stepped out from the shadows, her body now free to be explored to his heart's content; she was slender and tall, much more so than he, with unusual hair, black but highlighted with a crimson red, the telltale sign of a demon child, her hips wider than what he would have expected for someone of her age—being within the presence of Mana only proved this as a fact, as she was far more narrow than that of the beautiful girl before him. When his eyes rested upon her breasts for the briefest of seconds, it was enough for him to avert the area altogether, now that he had the affirmation that she indeed was voluptuous, more so than that of Isis, the young girl that had thrown herself in the path of her bloodthirsty father in order to save his life; it seemed almost uncanny that someone so young could be more developed than most twice her age, but there was the proof before his very eyes.
Her complexion still intrigued and confused the young prince though; how was it possible in Egypt to have such fair skin when the weather conditions were so harsh?
His skin next to most was as fair as it could get, yet she managed to trump him with skin whiter than porcelain; what a wonder she was turning out to be.
But what really stuck with Atem, what really stood out above all else, were her eyes, which had been closed whilst he silently inspected her figure, but now that they slowly fluttered open...
Atem had never seen such a beautiful sight in his young life.
Deep, emerald pools bore right back into his violet ones, and if someone were to have said that he had odd coloured eyes, then nothing could have prepared them for this; many different shades of green were reflected, turquoise, aqua, opal, teal, apple green, forest green, and many that he could not put a name on, all swirling in those viridian depths to create a startlingly dark emerald, a stunningly gorgeous colour to match all of her unusual traits, that made her more beautiful than any living creature he had ever seen. She was the picturesque image of a goddess.
The tight white gown encrusted with many precious jewels only accentuated and added onto her outer aesthetics, making her appearance more so pleasing to his eye, the gold jewellery that clung to her wrists, upper arms, ankles, fingers, neck, ears and forehead only succeeding in projecting her splendour; either way, Atem thought that with or without the jewels, she would remain a beauty.
She gazed back at him with a semi-uncomfortable expression, before her father intervened, once again aiming to embarrass the young prince.
"It seems that your son is rather taken with my daughter already, Aknamkanon! We must rejoice! I see a future between these two!"
Atem flushed scarlet, bowing his head down whilst the two grown men laughed, the Pharaoh placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as they procrastinated; a second, cool hand joined the first, only this time clutching his in a careful 'embrace', being met with a second as he raised his gaze to meet the warm emerald orbs of the girl known as 'Masika', whom wore a soft expression on her truly lovely face as she smiled whimsically, plush pink lips pouting outwards slightly as she spoke quietly, her voice merging between low and deep and slightly high; a truly feminine voice she had.
"It is a pleasure to meet thee, my prince; my name is Masika, and I dearly hope that we can be friends from henceforward. What be thy name?"
Atem watched as her ivory cheeks were dusted with flecks of pink, Masika slightly unnerved by his intense stare, but also quite flattered; she herself had not seen such a handsome boy as he, especially one of her own age, and was feeling shier than what was normal for one of her carriage—normally she would have been used to the constant attention that she drew, but when faced with someone as equally grand as she, perhaps even more so?
Masika felt her cheeks deepen in colouration as a response to her internal debate.
Atem's violet orbs instantly melted several different shades of purple as he smiled back at her fondly, clutching her hands closer to his chest as he spoke with relative ease, surprising even himself with the sudden surge of confidence that filled him.
"My name is Atem, princess, and please only address me by this title, even in the presence of others."
Masika blushed at his sudden abruptness, the rest of the royal court paying firm attention to the scene that was now unfolding, before she felt herself nodding in response, grasping his hand with a tauter grip as she replied none too hastily, "As will you for me, Atem—as will you for me."
a/n: End of Chapter 4: Audience with the Pharaoh!
Woooh, that sure took a lot out of me, trying to keep it within a certain frame of pages; I figured that this would inevitably be a longer chapter than my usual, as I had to properly introduce two of the key characters into the story, that needed to be in order for it to progress as semi-planned, so I hope that I have done them SOME justice, eheheh!
Hopefully they seem to be sort of IC, but if not, well... you know I tried my best, right? ^^
Now, just another lesson on Ancient Egyptian history, to clear a few things up before people start asking me (not that I would know, seeing as barely anyone reviews... =_=|||);
1) When I had Atem's sword-master mentioned, I had used two titles to refer to him as such; the first, Bomani, was the name that he had been given by the Pharaoh when he entered the court for his army regime—it means 'warrior' in ancient Egyptian. Then the second endearment that Atem used to address him, Baruti, is referring to him in a politer, more formal way to address him as a teacher, rather than by their name itself—it means 'teacher' in ancient Egyptian (if that wasn't already plainly obvious).
2) Kamilah means 'perfection' in ancient Egyptian.
3) Masika means 'born of/in the rain' in ancient Egyptian.
Please review guys! I feel so unappreciated right now! TT^TT
Ja. x)
*-Sasukeluva 4eva out-*