Welcome back! Y'all are going to have to forgive the lack of historical accuracy during this arc. I tried my best to find as much information as I could, but a lot of the stuff I was looking for was either not there, buried so deep that I couldn't find it, or didn't work in line with things I had planned. So for all my historians and geographers out there, sorry!
Enjoy!
"You wished to see me, your highness?"
Ramin couldn't figure out what he was doing here. All he knew was that he was interrupted from his duties by the prince's personal attendant, Mahaddo, and was told that the prince requested his presence. Of course he knew it was more of an order than a request, but at least Mahaddo was polite about it.
The prince in question currently sat at his desk studying a scroll and had barely glanced up when Ramin had entered with his escort. "Yes," the prince said idly, "I have something I wish to discuss with you."
"With me, my lord?"
"I do not make a habit of repeating myself," came the curt reply, surprising Ramin. He'd figured the prince was calm and forgiving, but this was bordering on frightening. His heart hammered in his chest; was it possible the prince knew? He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice that his escort had been dismissed and left him alone in the room with the second most powerful person in Egypt.
"You are a fool," was the next thing out of the prince's mouth.
"My lord?" Ramin couldn't stop the quiver in his voice at the cold tone.
"Yesterday at breakfast," the prince clarified, making a quick note on a separate scroll, "That was a rather foolish attempt with sloppy execution, don't you agree?"
Ramin's breath caught and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. The prince did know! But how? And why wasn't he dead yet? The prince clearly wasn't happy with the events that had transpired, but why was he here and not on trial in front of the Pharaoh?
"Poisoning the food would have certainly killed my father, but it also ran the risk of killing me as well," the prince finally looked up, "That would be counterintuitive to your plans, correct?"
"You had never eaten that bread before!" Ramin defended quickly before quickly remembering whose presence he was in and bowed in apology. "You were never supposed to be in any danger."
"But I was! And thus your plan was sloppy! The worst part is that you gave yourself away when you knocked the bread from my hand. Only a handful of people had access to the kitchens and even fewer knew about the kitchen boy's death before that event. My father's Court investigated everyone in the kitchens that morning and were all found to be innocent. You were looked over because you saved my life, but I assure you, that protection won't last long if I choose."
Ramin gasped. "You are trying to take the throne aren't you?"
"Did you take your actions with any doubt to the contrary?" the prince countered, "That would be a foolish thing to risk if you weren't sure. How did you come across this piece of information anyway?"
"I heard some of the guards discussing it as I was cleaning, my lord. I knew they had been stationed outside your chambers during that week so I figured they must know what they're talking about."
"And you decided to help me all on your own?"
"No," Ramin shook his head, "I sent a letter for advice and help."
"Which is why it took you over a week to do anything," the prince concluded. "Such an unusual name 'Ramin'," he suddenly changed the subject, "I didn't think much of it until Mahaddo pointed it out. I've been looking through the records from the last census and I can't seem to find your name in any records before you were employed by the palace as a servant. Where are you from?"
The question was asked with such a genuine curiosity, that Ramin felt compelled to answer, despite the fact that he had to answer any question put forward by the prince and, hopefully, soon to be Pharaoh. "I am originally from Syria, my lord."
"Syria?" surprise colored the prince's voice, "Why hide your origins? As far as I'm aware, Syria is not our enemy."
"At the moment, no, but Syria and Egypt have a rough history. I would never be able to get a job inside the palace if there were any doubts of my loyalty."
"And where do your loyalties lie now?"
"With you, and with Egypt."
"I assume you have allies here in the palace?"
"Yes, my lord."
The prince hummed to himself and turned back to the scroll in front of him. "To keep you from making another mistake, and believe me when I say one more is all it will take to cast suspicion your way, you will return here after nightfall with your allies so that I may meet them. I will arrange it with the guards to let you and your friends through."
"Won't the guards get suspicious?" Ramin asked worriedly.
"I will give them an excuse," the prince waved off, "You will only need to tell them that you are meeting with me."
Ramin grew excited. Everything was falling into place beautifully! He even had the prince on his side now! He was protected from the Pharaoh… for now. If he messed up, he was sure that there would be no saving him a second time.
He bowed low as he was dismissed, "I will gather who I can find and return two hours after nightfall."
"What a liar," Ahmed scowled in disgust as he emerged from behind the curtains, "You played your part beautifully, Prince *****. Someone could actually make the mistake that you want to kill your father."
Yami let out a shaky breath. He was no stranger to being firm or even deceitful, but to pretend as though he agreed with that man… He was glad that at least his father had insisted on one of the Bearers being present during these kinds of meetings. What had possessed him to go along to this ridiculous plan?
"Thank you, Ahmed," Yami leaned back, "Which part was he lying about?"
"His loyalties," the Ring Bearer said, his lip curling in disgust, "He is a traitor to Egypt, and that was before he tried to poison the Pharaoh. That man's loyalties lie only with Syria. I wouldn't doubt that that's who his friend was that he contacted for advice."
"Could he get a letter out and back within the span of a week?" Yami questioned curiously.
"If it was to the border and he sent a fast rider, it is not outside the realm of possibilities."
"What if he sent a falcon?"
"Then I suppose he would be able to get a message much further."
"So the Syrians are not necessarily gathering at our border?" Yami couldn't keep the worry out of his voice.
"Not necessarily," Ahmed agreed, "But I will bring this up before the Pharaoh in any case. I'm sure he'll want to send a scout to the border. This may be turning into something bigger than any of us thought."
Killing off the Pharaoh would make it ideal for Syria to invade Egypt, but Yami would take over the throne if that happened. So what sense did it make to kill the king and not the prince? Unless they thought Yami would be a weak, inexperienced king. They would be in for a terrible surprise if that was the case.
"Who will be here tonight?" Yami asked instead. No need to worry about hypothetical wars at the moment, though it might be worth looking at some maps to start planning a strategy.
"Mahaddo volunteered," Ahmed answered with a grin, "The Pharaoh agrees that he's more than talented enough with his magic to keep you safe if anything should happen. Kalim will be on standby just in case things get out of hand."
Yami returned the grin. He ignored the strange feeling he got whenever Mahaddo's magic was mentioned; it would come to him in time. "Hopefully neither of them will have to step in."
Yami looked over the gathering in his room that night, trying to keep his breathing even and not panic. He never imagined that close to two dozen servants and staff within the palace were plotting against the Pharaoh. He forced himself not to look to where Mahaddo was hidden, not wanting to give away his position, but he worried that this number of people would easily overpower the two of them should they choose, even with Kalim watching from afar.
Behind the curtains, Mahaddo was casting a spell that would place a marker on each of the people gathered here tonight so they would be able to positively identify them later without running the risk of one of them lying about their name. The marker would always be visible to Mahaddo and anyone with an Item, but could become visible to everyone at the moment of Mahaddo's choosing; likely, their trial.
"Is this everybody?" Yami asked coolly, eyeing the crowd critically. He was pleased to see nervousness run through, not only Ramin, but everyone he'd brought with him. At least he didn't have to pretend to be angry at them; the anger he felt was very real, just not for the reasons he would lead them to believe.
"There are a few more in the surrounding villages, but they serve mainly as messengers," Ramin explained, "We wouldn't have been able to sneak them into the palace away."
"Yes, let's talk about sneaking," Yami glared at them, "You are supposed to be attending a secret meeting, yet you all show up at the same time! Is this your first time at subterfuge?!"
Nobody met the angry prince's eyes. Yami rolled his eyes, suddenly grateful for Bakura's questionable activities, both before and after joining the Shadow Court; it gave him a basis on how to act and what to expect with these kinds of people.
He ignored the sudden wave of homesickness as he forced himself not to reminisce on his court and to focus on the situation at hand. This was a much larger problem than they had anticipated; this was a coup that he needed to take control of and then put a complete stop to.
"Lucky for all of you, I think I can explain away your incompetence this one time should it come up," Yami continued after a sufficient amount of cowering had occurred.
"You are most gracious, Prince *****," Ramin bowed in an effort to appease the prince. "Your kindness and understanding is exactly why we wish to put you on the throne."
Yami narrowed his eyes at the man's blatant lie. He disliked pandering, but even more so, he hated lies disguised as pandering. He was not a fool to be taken in by a few pretty words. "Yes," he swallowed his disgust, "We must wait a while longer before that can happen though. Thanks to yesterday morning's mistake, my father and the Inner Court are being extremely cautious when it comes to his safety."
"My lord?" a hesitant voice spoke up from the group. Yami tried to spot the speaker, but it was hard to tell who it might have been.
"Step forward," Yami invited, "What is it you wish to say?"
A young, nervous teen, maybe Mahaddo's age, stepped from the crowd. Yami suddenly felt a wave of doubt rush over him. This was a kid, by his standards anyway, what was he doing in a group trying to commit regicide? Yami shook his head to clear those thoughts; he was definitely of majority age by now and knew exactly what he was getting into. He could not afford to be soft just because of someone's age.
"I believe I may have the perfect solution to this problem," the teen said, "It would allow us to put you on the throne without drawing suspicion of foul play."
"Oh?" Yami raised an eyebrow.
"You see, my lord, I have been working with and training crocodiles since I was a young child, and experiment that my father started on orders of the Pharaoh and I took over. I raise them from hatchlings so they grow accustomed to my presence and voice while they are young. The goal was to see if we could use the beasts as trained guards of river as it meets the palace. It would be easy for me to draw a couple of large crocodiles to the river where the Pharaoh bathes."
"And how does this avoid suspicion?" Ramin asked.
"It would be seen as an act of Sobek," the teen explained, "People would assume that the Pharaoh had upset the gods and this was part of their divine punishment."
Yami allowed the depths of his anger to seep into his voice. "You would attempt to frame the gods for murder?" he hissed, not bothering to tell them that the royal family only bathed in the river for ceremonies or special occasions, "You are lucky they do not strike you down where you stand for such blasphemy!"
"That's the beauty of my plan, my lord. It would be divine judgment if it were to work. If the Pharaoh truly is in favor with the gods, surely they would intervene before things got too far?"
There was a general murmur of consensus amongst the gatherers at that. A way to 'accidentally' get rid of the Pharaoh while remaining guilt-free whether the plan succeeded or failed.
Yami walked over to the window, appearing as though he was simply thinking the plan over while he let the cool, night air of the desert wash over him. To be honest, that was part of why he was there, but the main reason was to get some kind of comfort from just knowing that he had a loyal friend nearby. It wasn't easy to discuss plans of his father's murder just to flush out this organization.
He turned around so his back was to the window. Not the safest thing to do, but he trusted Mahaddo to spot any kind of danger. "I refuse to risk the wrath of the gods in such a way. What other ideas do you have?"
The "secret" meeting went on for another half hour as ideas were tossed around and put into one of two categories: 'garbage' or 'has potential but needs improvement'. Yami grew quieter as the meeting progressed, which the group took as approval of their actions, when in reality Yami was having a hard time keeping down the contents of his stomach.
Finally, Yami called the meeting to an end. "We will never meet again in such a large group. Should I desire to speak with one of you, you shall receive a message that says 'The sun is rising on darkness'. That phrase will be used to identify each other if needed; make sure the messengers in the city know too. Do try to be more discreet as you leave."
At the dismissal, they all bowed and quickly shuffled out of the room. Yami quickly followed them to the door, making sure that nobody was trying to stick around, and locked the door behind them.
As soon as he had done so, he sank to the floor, trembling as adrenaline he didn't realize had been supporting him left his system. Mahaddo quickly hurried over and helped him to his bed. Or he tried to. Halfway back across the room, Yami dropped to his knees and his stomach tried to empty itself but only ended up dry heaving.
"You were spectacular," Mahaddo comforted, rubbing the prince's back soothingly, "Father was right when he told me that someone might make the mistake that you want to kill the Pharaoh."
"No more talk of wanting to kill my father," Yami groaned as he sat back and leaned against Mahaddo for support. His limbs felt weak and shaky, "It was bad enough that I had to listen to the glee in their voices as they went about most effective methods, but then I had to pretend I approved?! I will be so glad when this is finally over."
"I can't say I blame you," Mahaddo carefully pulled Yami to his unsteady feet and guided him the rest of the way to bed.
From the window, Kalim's voice whispered in, "Is everything okay? Is the prince alright?"
"Everybody's gone, Kalim," Mahaddo answered, "You can come in. ***** will be alright, the meeting just took a lot out of him."
Kalim quickly crawled through the window. The guards posted outside it had been told to look the other way. Yami looked over and saw the Bearer's face lined with worry.
"I'm fine, Kalim," Yami echoed Mahaddo's words as Mahaddo readied him for bed, "Thank you for keeping a watchful eye."
"How did it go? It looked like there were a lot more people than we thought."
Mahaddo quickly summarized the events of the meeting, including Yami's performance. "I managed to get everyone here tonight marked, as requested," he wrapped up his synopsis, "I even managed a spell that would mark anyone they talked to if they used the code phrase that ***** gave them. The Pharaoh and the Inner Court should have no trouble knowing who not to trust now."
"Have I ever told you that you're amazing with magic?" Yami asked drowsily. He had a sneaking suspicion that Mahaddo was weaving a weak sleeping spell over him while he brought Kalim up to speed. While he usually would have protested such a sneaky move, he was grateful for Mahaddo's forethought tonight. If anything, it would help keep nightmares away after everything that had happened today.
"It wouldn't hurt if you mentioned it more," Mahaddo teased, pulling the sheets over his friend, "Kalim and I will report to the Pharaoh everything we've learned. You just sleep."
The words were barely out of Mahaddo's mouth before Yami drifted lazily into dreamland.
Yami is no stranger to killing and death, but let's be real, he's trying to pretend he's in favor of killing his own father. Yes, he's a good actor, but even something like this is bound to have its toll on the best of actors. For the record, Aknamkanon isn't going to die like this. Can you imagine the mental scars on Yami if it did? He would never be a sane Pharaoh!
Also, after I finished this chapter, I did some research on distances and travel times...let's pretend that everything makes sense shall we? I need to remember that we're in a fictional universe here and the finer historical details don't matter so much. Well, that's what I'm going to keep telling myself in any case.
Please review!