M-Sama's note: AK! Sorry it's been so long, man, I'll be lucky if anyone is still interested in this…it was really a trial to write, and when you find out whom it concerns, I think you'll understand why…
Chapter 14: Pride of the Fallen One
"Here, the inscriptions begin again," said Professor Champollion, running his hands gingerly over the markings.
Alex looked back at the blank wall, all the hair on his neck standing up. "Man, that is creepy. Why would someone take a piece of the wall?"
"This place has been neglected for thousands of years," said the professor, "it must have been tomb robbers. What remains of the tale is vague, and incomplete, but I shall read it anyway…"
Seto stared at the ruins of his temple; his own palace, the one place where even the pharaoh's word had little power against his. There were his servants, there were the clerical students, the instructors, his subordinates, people he had known and worked with since he began his duelist training, people he had never known he cared for…
The stones moaned and threatened to fall in on him, but Seto walked like a man in a dream. The familiar halls were rubble, the sky shone on the devastation. He found himself on the temple's dueling floor. The stones were cracked, the surrounding pillars gone, the stone dueling slabs shattered and empty. And there on the crumbling wall was the tale of how the duels came to be. It was all so familiar, and yet…
Seto staggered. His knees buckled, his headdress fell from his brown hair, and he kneeled there on the stones, trembling, transformed in that instant from a proud high priest into a frightened boy, staring around in disbelief at what had been his world, unable even to cry.
"Seto," came the firm, deep voice behind him.
His back straightened. He sprung to his feet, angry to have been observed in his moment of weakness, and by this man, this man.
"It is not over, Seto," said the king, walking forward from the shadows. His violet cloak flared behind him, and despite the dried blood on his face and dust on his hands, he was regal still. He seemed ethereal, more then human. For a moment Seto wondered how he could ever have aspired to place himself higher then this son of heaven, and he despaired.
Don't be stupid. Looks or no, this king is no holier then a hall-rat. Stand up strait, High Priest. No one is permitted to make you feel inferior.
"It shall be rebuilt, Seto," said the Pharaoh. "You still have enough followers to do that. Your temple will live on." His fierce eyes were full of meaning in that last sentence.
Seto's head was high, and face was grim. "My Pharaoh, it is expected you will execute me for treason. The gods sent me a messenger, and they said I should receive no punishment for rising against an unfit king to save my land. My soul is prepared for the afterlife."
If the priest's face was grave, the face of the king was graver. All his expressions had a strange intensity to them, and his eyes were such as few could withstand. "High Priest of Egypt," said the Pharaoh, "you are proud unto the end. Even now you show no remorse, even though you know it shall cost you your life. Save your land, you say? Look around you."
'This is not of my making," snarled Seto.
Crouched in the dead sun, a golden grave keeper smiled, and whispered into his rod.
Filled with a sudden passion, Seto snapped. "Even if I had known, still I would defy you! No one is lord over me. No one is lord over me!"
"Seto…" the king's eyes narrowed.
Haha, yes Seto Sutekh-Sokar. Aptly were you named for the Lord of Chaos. No one has the right to be superior to you, haha! Denounce your king, you fool!
"If you had yielded your throne, none of this would have happened! Your kingdom is crumbling because of your pride!" yelled Seto.
"Seto, listen to yourself!" the king's commanding voice rang out. "I was born unto my power, and am the true king of Egypt. But," his voice dropped an octive, "you are correct that it is my fault, in a way. And I need your help. We must undo the evil we unleashed on this land."
"You made the mess, you clean it up!"
"I did not make it alone. Seto Sutekh-Sokar, I need your aid. I could command it as is my birthright, but I shall not. Renounce your evil ways and render me assistance."
"Would it save me?" Seto's voice was low.
There was a pregnant pause. Then the king replied, "I did not make the law, Seto. Such as you have done cannot be forgotten."
"I see," said Seto. He closed his eyes. A smug smile spread across his face.
You fool, tell him to stuff it! Nothing he can do now, your life is forfeit anyway, and he shall die along with everyone else! There was ringing laughter from the scorched sands as the angel of doom with the dead-violet eyes ran gleefully to the nearest ravaged town to observe his handiwork.
In a sudden movement Seto stooped and reached for his headdress, and the King sensed, for the first time, a presence, malevolent, a soul of pure chaos commanding many strings of influence…before he could figure it out it vanished. Seto stood, the headdress in his hands, looking at it. He made a move to put it on his head, to tell his king to rot in the torments of the afterlife and keep his bargains, when he found he was no longer holding his hard-won violet crown. It lay in the king's slim, nimble hands.
"You are stripped of your title and your rights," the Pharaoh said, eyes and voice grim, "by order of the Pharaoh. As of this moment you are nothing more then a slave in my service. Aid me in my task, and you shall be permitted to duel me for everything you have lost this day."
Seto's heart was full of pain, and his eyes were full of hatred. He opened his mouth in a snarl. "What right have you to do this?! You did not give me my position, you cannot-"
"I have the power to do what I wish in my own kingdom, you know that. My pronouncement stands."
Seto refused to believe it. "There are no scribes here to record your words, you are as alone in this moment as I. How-"
"That's where you are wrong!" yelled a voice. Jono stepped triumphantly from the shadows, holding his golden head at a jaunty angle, followed by a severe-looking Tèana. She put the finishing flourishes on a roll of papyrus, rolled it up, and handed it to the Pharaoh with a venomous look at Seto. She had learned letters for amusement from the palace scribes.
"This paper is your slavery," said the king. "Renounce your traitorous ways and I will burn it. Otherwise, I swear by heaven I strip you of your very name."
Seto's fiery blue eyes were hidden behind his brown bangs. He hated his king. He hated his fate. He hated everything. He could not believe this was happening to him…everything had been so right, so right…
He would die rather then live with this humiliation…
"I will aid you, my king…" he said, the hatred and reluctance almost tangible in his tortured voice. Hate filled those blue eyes. "I shall reclaim my title of the best duelist in the universe, you cannot keep me down forever…"
"Never would I so intend," said the Pharaoh. He placed the violet headdress beneath his arm. "Now go an re-build your temple. You are commanded to continue in your role as High Priest of the Shadow Magics." The king turned with a flare of his cape. His deep commanding voice came back over his shoulder to Seto's ears. "I don't want to see you again. Stay away until I send for you."
And he walked away, leaving the bareheaded seventeen year old standing alone, defiant and determined in the ruins of what had been his grandeur.
Tèana and Jono shadowed their king. "So…what now?" asked Jono. "Gonna burn that paper?"
"My word is my bond," said the Pharaoh. "He is free and he knows it. I think," the king's intense violet eyes were cast skyward, looking up towards the blue heavens and the sun, "Seto understands me better then even you do. If I did not destroy that scroll, he would go mad. That I cannot risk. We need him still."
"For what?" asked Tèana, disturbed at the tone in her king's voice.
The king looked ahead. His eyes were hidden by his golden bangs and he was quiet for a long time. Eventually Tèana and Jono realized he was not going to answer.