Day 17 (at most 13 days remaining)

It was barely an hour into the new day and a long way to go until morning when Atemu finally made it back to the palace.

He had company.

This wasn't readily apparent, as when Atemu first walked in, the halls were entombed in silence and shadows. Earlier in the evening, he had, with some difficulty and a glare that could've frozen a volcano, managed to convince his guards to return to the palace early while he continued on to visit the Item-Maker alone. (The secrecy in which he shrouded these visits was so difficult to achieve that he had even given up trying to attain it in his meetings with Mahaado.) For a few moments, Atemu just stood there, surrounded by darkness and cold marble, reveling in the cool, pristine night, in the feeling of being—dared he say it?—alone.

Something shattered on the wall behind him, inches from his head. The pieces ricocheted; Atemu knew this because of the sound, and because a piece had struck his shoulder. Clasping his hand over the stinging wound and frowning when he felt blood, it suddenly occurred to him to duck, a motion that possibly saved his life. The next projectile came so close he could hear it zip by his ear. Even after it had crashed into the wall like its precedent, the echoes continued to reverberate in Atemu's ear, but he was damned if he was going to show any sign of being shaken up.

"Missed," said Atemu smugly, straightening up. This wasn't true; his ear was bleeding quite profusely, but he didn't notice the pain through the adrenaline.

To the sound of his guards shouting and running around in a general panic, Atemu ducked again, and just in time. Another something struck the wall above his head. This time Atemu managed to catch a piece in his hand as the rest of them rained around his shoulders. It was cold and sharp and melted away in his hand—ice.

"Seto—" Atemu began, but was interrupted by more flying ice.

"Shut up!" screamed Seto. Atemu had never heard Seto scream before, not even the first time Seto had tried to seal a Shadow Monster within a tablet. It had been an angry white wolf, and not a particularly good choice for a beginner. Although it was clear from the beginning that the wolf had had no intention of being sealed, by the time anyone had thought to stop Seto, it had been too late; the wolf had already sunk vicious teeth into Seto's arm and had nearly succeeded in tearing it off. Seto, however, had remained incredibly calm. With amazing presence of mind he had pried the jaws open long enough to free his arm and then back away while Atemu ran forward to restrain the wolf and his guards to restrain their pharaoh. All that time Seto hadn't so much as shouted, and now he was screaming.

Atemu ducked as well as he could, moving surprisingly quickly for someone who'd been on a horse all day and had the stiff muscles to show for it. He accidentally bumped into a bracket on the wall, which was holding an unlit torch. At the sound, the ice followed him, although fortunately it was aimed a bit too high this time. Absently, Atemu snatched the torch out of its holder, brandishing it as if it could illuminate the room even unlit, ducked, and then scampered back the way he'd come with the vague idea of getting outside, where there were more places to hide than in this open hall. It occurred to him that going the opposite way might also have been beneficial, because he could possibly have run into his guards, who otherwise would probably never find him. However, Seto was flinging more ice, and Atemu decided that thinking was not in order if he wanted to have a head to continue thinking with much longer.

"Seto," Atemu tried again, and was rewarded with a rough scrape on his cheek as an icicle screamed its way by. Morbid curiosity possessed his hands, made him grope behind him. He found the icicle with little difficulty. It was embedded deeply into the wall, quivering, and about four feet long.

"Seto, please, stop…"

More ice. "You killed him! Killed! He's dead!"

"No, listen, Seto—"

"Don't speak to me! You don't have the right to speak to me after what you did! Shut up! Shut up!!"

Atemu was going about this all wrong, he reflected, although if there existed a worse time for quiet reflection he hadn't yet found it. By this point he couldn't tell where Seto was aiming anymore, because ricocheting ice shards were coming at him from all directions. Ice was exploding on the walls all around him, he knew he was cut up all over except maybe where jewelry offered thin bands of protection, he was sure he had ice melting in his hair, and he had gotten some down the back of his shirt, a very unpleasant feeling. But the rebounding ice wasn't the worst of it; it was the ice that went directly into Atemu that was the most unpleasant. And at this rate, there would be much more unpleasantness following if Atemu didn't do something, now.

And do something he would. He was pharaoh of Egypt, after all, not some scared little boy, cowering from his own high priest.

"Seto!" Atemu declared in his most commanding voice. There was a brief hesitation. Then:

"And don't you dare use your pharaoh voice on me, bastard!" said Seto. More ice came, but this time Atemu was ready for it. Instead of ducking, he swatted the ice out of the air with a hand, keeping an eye on the source. Now his hand was going numb, but at least it made him feel more in control, more confident. He advanced. More ice came, but, keeping his hand ready, he found he could hear it coming in time to hit it out of his way, and using this strategy, he managed to make it across the hall without getting his chest punctured.

The air got steadily more frigid as he continued. He imagined he could feel a cold mist playing about his feet. Then, without warning, he walked into something warm.

Biting down panic, Atemu managed to collect himself before Seto could, and flung himself at the taller man. There was the sound of a clay jug shattering as they both tumbled to the floor. Water pooled around their prone forms, and Atemu recoiled from it as if burned. Hastily, he leapt up and began dragging Seto away from the water, feeling it solidify under his feet as he did so.

"Let go of me!" Seto said.

The walls lit up with the reflective glow of flickering torches. Apparently Atemu's guards had finally found them. Moments later, it was all over, Seto snarling but restrained, Atemu hastily trying to arrange himself into a semblance of presentable. He was bleeding everywhere, especially the soles of his bare feet (his sandals had inexplicably disappeared), and his hair and clothing were soaked. He brushed a few chips of ice out of his hair, but there wasn't much else he could do to salvage his appearance.

"What should we do with him?" asked a guard, while his partner was busy being pulverized with the splashes of water Seto was kicking up and turning to ice mid-flight.

"Get him away from the puddle of water, for one," said Atemu. He suddenly realized that he was still clutching the unlit torch in one hand. He painfully forced his grip to relax. Gathering as much dignity as he could with his hair drooping to one side, Atemu approached the guards and lit his torch in one of theirs. Next he turned to Seto, bringing the flame closer so he could scrutinize Seto's face with care. "And also… bring me a dagger, would you?" His close proximity allowed him to watch the color flee from Seto's face even as Seto shrank away from the flame.

The requested weapon was quickly provided. It was rather big and unwieldy, more suited for his guards than for Atemu's small stature. Atemu put his torch in a nearby bracket and took the knife, cradling it in both hands but holding it away from his body as if it were a screaming, fussing baby that had been thrust upon him.

"Seto," said Atemu. "I've been wanting to speak with you. Your brother—"

"Don't talk to me about my brother!"

One of the more enthusiastic of the guards slapped Seto in the face.

"Pandora!" said Atemu sharply. Pandora looked ashamed.

"Your brother wanted me to deliver a message," continued Atemu calmly, "Do you want to hear it?"

"Like I'd believe anything you said," said Seto. Atemu shot another warning glance at Pandora, whose hand froze midair.

"Would you like to hear it all the same?" said Atemu.

"Fine. Give me more of your lies," Seto spat.

"Mokuba wanted to say that he loved you, that he was sorry, that he would miss you, and that he wanted to thank you for everything you've done for him," said Atemu, still in that same impassive tone of voice. He watched for a reaction.

"Did he." said Seto flatly. He seemed to be choking on his own voice.

"Yes," said Atemu, "he did."

"How did you… how did you ki…" Seto trailed off.

"I used a knife," said Atemu, as gently as he could. He had known this was coming and had been preparing for it. It was a lot easier to say than he'd expected, perhaps because with Seto so upset, it seemed up to him to remain calm. "I cut his throat. I can promise you that he felt no pain."

"How would you know?" said Seto, but his voice lacked bite. "Could you feel what he was feeling?"

"Yes, in fact," said Atemu. "I could. And…" he swallowed. "I hate to say this, but I will show you. Right now."

To Atemu's surprise, Seto tilted his head back, baring pale throat. "Fine," he said. "I'm ready."

"No, you can't do that," said Atemu. "I need you to look at me."

"Why?" said Seto. "Why should I do that?"

"Please, Seto," said Atemu. "Thank you, Seto," said Atemu. "And… goodbye."

"Aw, come on, can't we take a break?" said Katsuya. "Some people like to actually sleep at night."

Their mysterious captor turned around to look at Katsuya through the quickly settling darkness. He was wearing some sort of green armor, and it creaked with the movement. Then he shook his head. "At least I'm not making you walk," he said.

"Yeah, but whoever heard of riding on a horse? Couldn't have gotten us a war chariot or something, could you?"

"No, I couldn't. I'm afraid it was all a bit short notice."

"Where are you bringing us, anyway?"

"Surely you've guessed? You noticed we were riding on horses… Don't you know who came up with that idea?"

"Huh?"

"The pharaoh," said the man. "The pharaoh came up with the idea of riding on horses, instead of making them drag chariots. He's a very innovative man, you know."

"Um… so?"

"We're going to the palace, to see the pharaoh," said the man in green armor. He smiled slightly at Katsuya's reaction. "Please don't try to run away. I'm sure you've noticed the guards who are riding with us."

"What? Where?" said Katsuya, who had, in fact, been about to wheel his horse around and flee.

"There." He pointed. "And there. And there. You get the idea."

"We're never going to escape, are we," said Katsuya glumly.

"No, you're not," said the man in green armor.

"We're going to die, aren't we," said Katsuya.

"Only you are, Katsuya. Your sister needn't have come at all, only she was… quite persistent."

Katsuya glanced over at Shizuka. She had fallen asleep, and was slumped over her horse's head. Needless to say, the horse wasn't pleased.

"Can't we drop her off somewhere? I don't want her to get hurt."

"I think she would be safer coming with us than she would be by herself."

"What, coming with us to meet the psychotic pharaoh who kills all his relatives?"

"He hasn't killed any female relatives, Katsuya. Females can't inherit the throne, after all."

"You mean he's killing all of us just to make sure we don't take his power? Hey, I can already tell him I'm not interested!"

"He can't take that chance. Please don't question it any longer."

Katsuya growled, but decided to let it go. He wouldn't stand much of a chance arguing his point with that big sword pressed against his throat, anyway. "So why can't we stop again? Actually get some sleep in the middle of the night? Seeing how you have all these guards, we wouldn't be able to escape anyway, right?"

"The sooner we get there, the less chance I have of messing this up," said their captor with a self-deprecating smile. "Besides, I don't think you would want to ride through the city during the day. People stare."

"Hey, how bad can it be? As long as I'm not falling over from exhaustion…"

"You can sleep when we're there."

"But I don't want to sleep when we're there! I want to sleep now!"

"Fine. If you want to sleep now, you can sleep now. Go ahead." The man gently guided his horse around in a half-circle until he was facing Katsuya.

Shizuka's horse, oblivious, continued on, until the man in green armor reached over and caught its reigns.

Katsuya stared.

"Well? I thought you wanted to sleep?"

"What, here?" said Katsuya.

"Do you have a better alternative?"

"I just thought you'd be able to come up with something better than in the middle of the desert!"

Their captor shrugged in a clatter of armor. "I wasn't actually planning to have to accommodate your desperate need for sleep. Take it or leave it."

Katsuya fumed, but jumped off the horse. He'd show the stupid green armor guy. With an exaggerated show of nonchalance, Katsuya laid himself out in the sand. The grit that soon attached itself to his face and hair was all worth it for the sound their captor made, one of surprise and some confusion.

"You're serious?"

"Yep!" said Katsuya happily, trying not to spit reflexively as some sand made its way into his mouth. "Need my sleep, me."

A pile of fabric landed on his face. "At least sleep on top of that," said the man in green armor. "That way you won't get sand all over you. That is, more sand."

Katsuya sat up to inspect the fabric. It was blue. "Thanks," Katsuya said, looking up.

"Don't mention it," said the man in green armor, now minus one cape.

Atemu's veins were filling with fire. He forced his hands to move, to grasp Seto's shoulders so they wouldn't lose eye contact. He missed first try, somehow managing to cover his fingers with the blood that was flowing from Seto's neck.

Gods, though, it hurt,it hurt, it hurt. Dying was painful, but at least when it was you dying, after a while you stopped feeling it.

"Pharaoh—" said someone nearby.

"Is he dead?" Atemu said, voice even quieter than usual, because he knew that if he spoke any more loudly they'd hear his voice cracking.

"He's dead."

"Are you sure?" said Atemu. "Would you be willing to bet your life on it?"

"Ah…"

But it was true. Seto was dead. There was no more pain in Seto's eyes, only a blissful blankness, and that was how Atemu knew he was done. "Someone take his body," he said, backing away, trying not to breathe heavily. The guards all rushed to catch Seto before he fell. "And this knife, too," added Atemu. "What's happened to Mokuba? Does he have a tomb?"

"He has a tomb, pharaoh. He hasn't been put in it yet…"

"Good," said the pharaoh indistinctly. It was all he could do not to collapse onto the ground there and then, screaming in pain. He forced himself to focus. "Have another one constructed," he said. "A bigger one. I want him and his brother buried together. I'm going out again."

Unsurprisingly, his guards followed him, like a shadow, as he walked out into his city.

"Aren't you going to sleep too?" said Katsuya. He was lying with his back to the man in green armor. He had spread the cape over the sand and was now picking absently at one fraying edge.

"No."

"You have to sleep some time."

"Not until my job is done."

"Look, I'm not saying this because I'm plotting to run away, all right? You've got all these guards to make sure I can't. I just think you should get some sleep. You've got to be tired."

"I've only been chasing you around for two days. It could be worse. I could lose you now and then spend weeks scouring the desert sands."

"Aw, suit yourself," said Katsuya. "It's not like I care. Only I can't sleep with you watching me. It's creepy!"

"There's nothing I can do about it."

"You could look away!"

"I am looking away."

Katsuya glanced up suspiciously. True to his word, the man was busying himself with cleaning rust off of his green armor.

Katsuya lay back down.

He looked up again. The man was still polishing away.

Katsuyafocused his gaze back on the edge of the cape. Without warning, he suddenly leapt up, pointing a finger at the man, shouting triumphantly, "Ha!"

The man stopped polishing his armor. "What?" he said. "Are you okay?"

"I know you were watching me! I could feel it!"

"You're crazy," the man said. "And you're wasting your sleep time."

Muttering to himself, Katsuya settled himself back on the cape. "I know you're watching," he muttered.

"Believe what you like," said his captor.

"My pharaoh," said Mahaado.

"Not this again," said Atemu. "Look, this is not the time." He leaned back against the closed door. "Do you think you could stop paying attention to me for a moment?"

"My pharaoh?" said Mahaado.

"Just, you know, read that book on your desk or something."

Bewildered, Mahaado sat at his desk, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, and tried to focus on the text. For good measure he turned his chair around so he was facing the wall and away from his pharaoh. Let's see… On the seventeenth day of that glorious month she bore me a son. At the moment of his birth a streak of lightning flashed through clear sky, and I knew instantly that he was to be truly unique, even for a pharaoh…

A thud interrupted Mahaado from what was possibly the most grandiloquent and pompous journal ever to be kept by man (though of course, pharaohs were gods, not men, and Atemu's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great uncle, even if he was never pharaoh, seemed to have taken this to heart).

"Atemu?" he asked, jumping up.

"You're not looking at me, are you, Mahaado?" said Atemu, in a low voice that was more like a groan than anything else.

Hastily, Mahaado looked away. "I just wanted to make sure you were unhurt," said Mahaado. He had seen, though. He had seen Atemu slumped against the door, digging fingernails into his face, dried blood and a hint of wetness on his cheeks.

A forced chuckle met his ears. "Of course not. What could ever hurt me? I'm pharaoh. …Yes, pharaoh, as you generally call me."

Still shocked at the pharaoh's state, it took Mahaado a while to understand. "My pharaoh, I'm sorry, I forgot…"

"It's all right, Mahaado," said the pharaoh. "You can look now."

Mahaado did. Atemu was collected once more, standing straight, looking regal as always, if a bit worse for wear. There was still a streak of blood on his face. Mahaado knew he shouldn't have been surprised at the rapid transformation back to pharaoh mode, but he was. Blood, bruises, and grime aside, Atemu looked entirely composed, as if he hadn't just been curled into a semi-fetal position, shaking, less than a minute earlier.

"There's a washbasin in the corner if you want to wash your face," said Mahaado carefully.

"Thank you," said Atemu.

Mahaado brought him linens to dry his face, a change of clothes, a jar of kohl. "Would you like something for the… cuts?" said Mahaado, even more carefully now.

The pharaoh's suddenly blank expression told him he had gone too far. "What cuts?" the pharaoh said. His voice was like ice.

"Yes, my pharaoh," said Mahaado, sitting back down. How often Mahaado addressed the pharaoh by title reflected how nervous he was feeling—and right now he was feeling quite nervous indeed.

Atemu joined him moments later. He looked clean and unscathed, face flawless besides his right earlobe, which he was just casually pinching as if because he wanted to, and not because otherwise it would've continued to bleed all over his fresh robes. He had even managed to cover the other cuts and bruises with a mixture of kohl, red ochre, and sycamore juice, which Mahaado imagined stung quite a lot on the open wounds. If it did, though, Atemu hid it very well.

"My pharaoh? May I ask what happened earlier?" said Mahaado.

"Nothing happened earlier," said Atemu. "However…"

Mahaado leaned in closer.

"However, I have just killed Seto Kaiba."

Mahaado did not say "oh" in a manner that suggested that everything was suddenly clear, although he was thinking it. He waited for Atemu to continue.

"You're wondering why that matters so much," said Atemu. It wasn't a question. "Sure, I killed someone, but that isn't reason enough to wake you up in the middle of the night or, heavens forbid, lose composure. Am I right?"

"You're always so composed, so it was a shock to see you— to imagine what could've caused you such distress." said Mahaado, trying to find his way through the right phrasing like a man picking his way through a nest of crocodiles. "I didn't mean to suggest it was no big deal—"

Atemu raised a hand to cut him off. "I understand. But the reason is, Mahaado, that I have a… Gift. Don't flinch like that, I won't subject your ears to such an offensive word again. I just want to explain this to you. I can… I have some control over pain. Most relevantly to the topic at hand, I can take other people's pain for my own. This is why I insisted on killing so many people myself; I did not want them to hurt while they were dying."

"Meaning that you can somehow… take away pain?" said Mahaado.

"Yes."

"But it can't just disappear…"

"No, it cannot."

"So what happens to it?"

Silence.

Mahaado hissed. "You get it?"

"I'm sorry?" said Atemu. Mahaado, although usually very in tune with the subtle nuances of his pharaoh's speech, was not only half asleep, but also astonished out of his mind at seeing Atemu like that, and then finding out why. For the first time in years, he missed the sign Atemu was giving him, that they were done with the topic, that he was already saying too much.

"So the pain goes to you?" continued Mahaado. "You feel the pain that you're taking away? So all this time, when you were killing these people, you made sure they didn't feel any pain, at the cost of hurting yoursel—"

"Mahaado," said Atemu.

"I-I'm sorry, my pharaoh," said Mahaado, suddenly realizing that he had again gone too far. He tried to shift the topic, slightly. "So… you killed Seto, but you took away his pain. And that was why you were…?"

"I was what?" said Atemu severely.

"Nothing, my pharaoh," said Mahaado quickly. Another blunder. Conversing with the pharaoh was something to approach with care and delicacy. But all of a sudden, Mahaado had another question he was dying to ask, and it was painfully blunt. Mahaado took a deep breath, like a diver preparing for the plunge. Perhaps Atemu would go easy on him. "Is it… Is the pain of dying… very bad?"

Silence. Then: "Yes."

"Why do you do it then? You don't owe them anything."

"I owe them everything. I owe them their lives."

Silence.

"It's very admirable of you, my pharaoh."

Silence.

"Or perhaps I just don't want to feel guilty anymore."

"Atemu…"

Atemu did not correct Mahaado. Instead, he straightened suddenly, flicked back his bangs, cleared his throat. It was the sign that their previous conversation was over, and Mahaado did not miss it this time. He cast about for something else to say, while part of him marveled at getting away with calling the pharaoh by name.

"Would you like to hear the latest news in the lineages?"

"Of course."

"Remember I told you we thought we'd found the home of Ryou's brother? It turns out he doesn't live there any longer. In fact, he's been living the past eight years with Ryou."

"But Ryou's mother said she and Ryou lived alone."

"Most likely she didn't want us to find out about the brother and take him as well."

"That would make sense," said Atemu.

"Should we fetch him?" said Mahaado, anxiously watching Atemu's expression. It didn't change in the slightest.

"Of course. In fact, I think I could spare some of my personal guard."

"Don't you need them?"

"They proved rather incompetent tonight." Atemu strode to the door, and opened it to reveal his guards, fighting a losing battle against sleep. Then again, it took a brave man to remain somnolent in the slightest while in the presence of the pharaoh. They snapped to attention.

"I have an errand for one of you to run," said Atemu. "You may bring backup."

"I'll do it," said Pandora instantly. It was painfully obvious he wanted to make up some ground for earlier, and although Atemu was hesitant about sending him, he was exhausted in every sense of the word and didn't feel up to a tactful dissuasion.

"Fine," said Atemu. "Mahaado will have details for you after the rest of us leave." Then he closed the door.

"Also," said Mahaado, once the pharaoh had returned to his seat. "I have found another one." He waited for ire, for despair, for a reaction. All he got was a slight nod, a motion that said, 'Do continue, would you?' "By all accounts he looks a lot like you. My pharaoh. His name is Yuugi Motou. He lives nearby, but the terrain is difficult to traverse, and it's a journey that generally takes three, four days."

"He must be the one," said Atemu thoughtfully, or as thoughtfully as he could get going on 24 hours without sleep and aching everywhere. "If he resembles me, the people would be much more willing to accept that he is of the bloodline, and that he is eligible to be pharaoh."

"I've already sent Gaia after him," said Mahaado.

"That's good," said Atemu. "Gaia widely known for his speed."

"Yes, he is," said Mahaado. "And Katsuya should be on his way here as we speak. He may even be here now. It's nearing daybreak."

"Splendid," said Atemu. "Another one for me to kill. Does he have any immediate family?"

"A sister," said Mahaado. "Beyond that, no…"

"I wonder where she will go, then, with her brother gone."

Mahaado checked Atemu's expression again. Still no hint of strain. "Perhaps she will return to her aunt and uncles?" he suggested.

"I am quite tired of this," said Atemu abruptly, although he kept his easy, conversational tone.

"I can see why, my pharaoh."

"I am going to see Isis again," said Atemu. "She says that the only way to stop the Shadow Games was for me to give my life in some elaborate ceremony. But she also says that I am to die on the battlefield, at the hands of a usurper. That would mean that there is no way to stop the Shadow Games, and that's something I'm not willing to believe.

"Perhaps it's not," said Mahaado. "Prophecies can have many levels of meaning."

"Perhaps," said Atemu. He stood. "I will return to the palace to change into more elaborate garments, and then I will go meet with Isis," he announced.

"Good luck, my pharaoh," said Mahaado.

Atemu nodded briefly before heading out with his guard once more, this time into the dawn.

"Okay, I don't want to say this, but you were right," said Katsuya.

"Hm?"

"I'm really not liking this whole parading-in-front-of-everybody thing…"

From the instant they had passed through the gates of the city, the people had not stopped staring. There was a general flurry of pointing, of sleeve tugging as the procession passed, just to make sure no one could miss them. And there were whispers…

"They're going to the pharaoh, aren't they, poor lambs…"

"I hear the pharaoh's killed another one just yesterday."

"I hear the pharaoh can kill you just by looking at you."

"I'd certainly die if he looked at me. Have you seen his eyes? Ruthless, absolutely ruthless."

"Not a hint of emotion in them."

"He'd probably stick a knife in you as soon as look at you. Sooner."

"And laugh while he was doing it."

"And laugh."

"Definitely laugh."

The man in green armor rode diagonally over until he was right next to Katsuya, so he could nudge both horse and rider on. "Don't listen," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, we're almost there."

"That's supposed to be comforting?" said Katsuya.

And then, there they were. Someone took their horses, but Katsuya was too dazed to take note of who it was. He grabbed Shizuka's hand and stood close to her as they walked toward the forbidding bulk of the palace.

As they were about to go in the entrance, however, the pharaoh came out.

Katsuya gaped.

The pharaoh was wearing a short tunic and a luxurious blue cape, and the rest of him was covered with gold. Gold bracelets, gold rings, gold collar, gold anklets… He even had one gold earring dangling from his left ear. It looked like someone had tried to pierce his right ear as well but had done a really poor job of it.

"I had an accident this morning," said the pharaoh, as if reading Katsuya's mind. While Katsuya gaped some more, the pharaoh turned to the man in green armor. "Thank you," he said. "These must be Katsuya and Shizuka."

Katsuya nodded, which unfortunately drew the pharaoh's attention back to him.

"Unfortunately," said the pharaoh, "I have business in the city this morning, and this afternoon I ride south, to battle, from which I won't return until tomorrow evening. This means I probably won't be able to fit you into my schedule until the day after tomorrow. I imagine you're terribly disappointed."

"You've got to kill me personally?" said Katsuya bluntly.

"I hope you have no objections," said Atemu.

What could Katsuya say to that?

"Good day then. Please make yourself comfortable." Nodding briefly, the pharaoh walked on, trailed by his guards.

"He didn't seem that scary," said Katsuya, as they went in. "Kind of friendly. Almost seemed like he had a sense of humor."

"Except for the fact that he's going to kill you?" said Shizuka. She sounded scared.

"Yeah, except that." Katsuya gave Shizuka's hand a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry, though. I'll be okay. You just watch."

They walked past some people who were industriously scrubbing the ground and walls, but Katsuya marked them off as inconsequential and paid them no mind.