My Excuse For Not Updating:

Er...I've become more interested in Redwall now...?

Wow...time has it's way of gettin' away from a body. It's been about five months, people!!!

Note:

I have no idea how ancient Egyptian schools were supposed to run. I do know that boys could be trained to be scribes, though. And I also don't know how the lesser priests addressed their high priest. ^_^ So don't get mad if this chappie's inaccurate.

Get ready for the World's-Most-Boring-Chapter!!!!

~KR

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     "Katsuya?"

     "Yami?"

     "It's really you, after all this time!" The two old friends embraced. "Oh, Yami—or should I call you Prince Yami?—I truly have missed you..." Katsuya pulled back after a moment, examining Yami carefully. He frowned.

     "What is wrong, Yami?" the teenager asked in a low voice so the other generals and advisors couldn't hear. "You look..."

     "Wasted?" The spiky haired prince let a grim smile show. "Troubled? Now how could that be so? I am the son of the highest-ranking official in Egypt! How could something be wrong?"

     "I am serious, Yami," Katsuya said quietly.

     "So am I." The shorter teenager glanced around the room, quickly deciding to change the subject. "Why are you here, Katsuya? Are you a captain already?"

     The blond haired one flashed his ready smile and shook his head, knowing that further questions would get him nowhere. "Me? No, by the gods, no. I'm just the general's aide."

     Yami arched an eyebrow. "But you're merely fifteen summers old," he reminded his friend.

     "I know, and so are you." Katsuya crossed his arms. "Each of us is gifted in different ways, it seems. What news of Seto and the others?"

     Yami shook his head. "I will tell you when we are finished here." He indicated the others gathered for the council.

****

     The council was terribly boring. Yami still couldn't concentrate when it came to matters of war, prince though he was. For the life of him, he could not picture why fighting over desert land was so important. He obviously preferred games.

     On the other hand, Katsuya was enjoying himself. Years of slavery had taught him how to think before he acted or fought, something underrated among the Egyptians, who favored strength over skill.

     "Tell me, Yami," the blond haired teenager began as he and his friend walked among the quieter halls of the palace as the council had adjourned. "What is it about this place...that makes you seem so different?"

     Yami thought up a believable lie, but couldn't bring himself to say it. He stopped walking and sighed. "You're right, Katsuya, as usual..." the young prince muttered. "I am different." He glanced back the way they'd come. "Did you see that tall boy sitting at...Father's...left hand? That was his real son Amar." When Katsuya looked puzzled, Yami explained the reasons behind his adoption.

     "Ah." The blond haired teenager nodded slowly when his friend had finished. "I understand now..."

     "The worst part of it is not being able to tell anyone," Yami said unhappily.

     "What do you mean?" Katsuya demanded. "You're the favored son of the pharaoh! You're going to rule in his place when he dies! Why can't you tell anyone?"

     "Amar is stronger than I ever could become." Tears of frustration filled Yami's eyes and he angrily blinked them back. "He threatens me...even fought with me once. And his brothers and sisters, the younger princes and princes, all hate me, too. If I were to tell someone what he does to me, I would be hated more than I already am!"

     "But you're telling me," Katsuya reminded him. "Why do you trust me and not the others here?"

     "Because they hate me!" Yami angrily snapped. He turned on Katsuya, his crimson eyes glittering. "Do you know what it's like to have people watching you all the time? If I make one mistake, everyone says, 'See, he's a slave boy; by Ra he'd make an unreliable pharaoh.' But if I do something right, Amar punishes me for it! I hate calling the pharaoh 'Father', for that is not what he is! I keep thinking of Atari...and what he and my real father did for me...and I cannot even remember what they looked like. And so I hate everyone here with everything I am! " Yami cut off his tirade and slammed his fist into the wall, sullenly refusing to speak.

     Knowing that he had tread on dangerous ground, Katsuya leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Tell me about the others."

****

     It was night—two nights since the council meeting, and the generals were preparing to return home. Katsuya and Yami stood in the silent gardens together as they talked one last time—gardens that had been Amar's mother's favorite.

     "So...Seto is a priest now?" Katsuya sat on the stone bench by the dark pond.

     "Yes." Yami remained standing. "He's almost reached the position of high priest. Mokuba is more of a seneschal now though. The only reason he stays in the temple is because he doesn't want to leave his brother."

     "And what of Ishtar?"

     The spiky haired prince frowned into the pond. "I was about to ask you that," he said softly. "I haven't seen nor heard from him since I came to the palace."

     "He left Nakht soon after you did," Katsuya explained. "We still don't know why, but he seemed upset over your leaving."

     "Really." Yami snorted. "I wonder why..."

     There was a sudden call from one of the rooms above.

     "Katsuya! Up here now!"

     "My general." The blond groaned as he rose to his feet. "I'm coming, Neb Anedjib!"

     Yami also stood. "Remember," he said harshly, "you will tell no one about Amar."

     Katsuya forced himself not to object. He knew that Yami hated nothing more than a wounded pride. "I will tell no one, my friend. But please, take my advice and tell someone yourself."

     The adopted prince wasn't listening. He had already walked off, stumbling down the path away from the palace. Katsuya breathed a prayer after him

     Ra be with you until next we meet.

****

     "You write with a sure hand, Yami."

     The dark haired teenager nodded briefly. Several of the other boys exchanged envious glances. It was well-known that he was the best in the class.

     "Thank you...Neb Ikeni," Yami said softly, keeping his eyes on the papyrus scroll he was finishing. Behind him, Amar snickered, his hot breath burning on the younger one's neck. Yami grit his teeth, squeezing the reed pen tighter in his hand.

     He hated the temple scribe's school—the one that was made solely for the purpose of educating the rich, priests, and nobility. He hated being the best in his class. He hated the whispers, the taunts, the sneers.

     But most of all, Yami hated the loneliness.

     For the umpteenth time, he wished he was still a slave. At least there he wouldn't be expected to lean how to write or rule Egypt. And he wouldn't receive so much attention from girls, about whom the adopted prince cared little.

     But then again, if I were still a slave, I would get... The teenager shook his head as he forced himself to concentrate on writing hieroglyphics.

     I don't want to think about that. Not now, or ever.

****

     "Attack, Dark Magician!"

     Yami stood back with satisfaction as his favorite monster plowed into his opponent's Mystical Elf.

     "Raigeki, destroy!" Siamun commanded.

     A lightning bolt shot from the ceiling, shocking the Dark Magician into oblivion. Yami glanced down at the stone tablets in the ground before him.

     "Summoned Skull!" he called after a moment's hesitation.

     "Prevent Rat!"

     Yami stopped himself from ordering the Summoned Skull to attack. Siamun wasn't a strong opponent, but a clever one; he never moved to defense without a winning plan in mind.

     The prince mentally summoned a trap before ordering, "Summoned Skull, attack!"

     "Summoned Skull activates my trap," Siamun said calmly. "Mirror Force!"

     "Your trap activates my trap," Yami rejoined without missing a beat. "Seven Tools of the Bandit! Mirror Force is useless, and Prevent Rat is eliminated."

     Siamun crossed his arms. A priest of many years, he had met his share of tough opponents, but Yami was truly different from them all. Truly unusual, he noted. He doesn't seem to be affected by the strain many duelists have collapsed under.

     "Well, High Priest Siamun?" Yami asked suddenly. "Have I passed your test, or do you want me to beat you some more?"

     "I concede," the high priest replied good-naturedly. "Now I see why so many say you are the best duelist in all of Egypt..."

     Before he could continue, the doors to the dueling room flew open. In flew Priest Seto, with Mokuba in tow. The teenager's expression was one of slight anger.

     "I heard you were here, Yami," he began.

     Yami tensed up, figuring where the conversation would lead. "And?"

     "And I've heard about what a good duelist you've become." Seto glanced down at the stone tablets. "I'm the best duelist in the temple; why don't you duel me and we'll see how good you really are?"

     The request was so sudden that Yami was momentarily dumbstruck. "Y-you want me to duel you?"

     "Yes." For the first time, Seto deigned to notice Siamun. "If that's all right with you, Neb Siamun."

     "Go on." Siamun stepped down from the platform. "I'll watch."