Chapter 248: Accept This Duty
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"You can decline," said Pamela, rubbing Sam's back. "You're allowed."
"Okay, yeah, sure, but should I? I mean, if people voted for me…"
"If you don't think you'd do a good job? Yes," said Pamela bluntly. "If you think it's too much for you? Yes. If you just don't want to have the responsibility? Also yes."
Pamela had also been elected to be a representative, but at least for her it made sense, because she, unlike Sam, had campaigned had wanted this.
(Who had even voted for Sam? It didn't make sense!)
"To be honest," continued Pamela, "I don't like the idea of you being surrounded by politicians."
"You didn't seem to mind dragging me to all those galas," grumbled Sam.
"That's different," said Pamela, instantly. "that's—"
"Frivolous? Unimportant? Meaningless?"
Pamela frowned. "I'd hardly call them that! They were important social events! But they were social events. These won't be. It'll be cutthroat and mean, and not in the way you pretend to be."
"I don't pretend," said Sam. "I've fought people. Things."
"Yes, but this will be different," said Pamela, looking at Sam almost expectantly.
Pamela expected Sam to decline.
If there was one thing Sam was good at, it was defying parental expectations.
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"We aren't going straight to DC?" asked Sam, feeling relieved. Even though she'd committed to it, she hadn't felt even one iota ready to go negotiate for, well, everyone in Amity Park.
(Oh, Ancients, she was a politician now. She had constituents. She was part of the machine. Except, now, there was a ghost in it. Ghosts. Hng. Shut up inner Danny.)
"No, no, of course not. You need to meet up with the main government, so they can work out your position. I mean, insofar as the main government exists. The Realms are preeeeeeeetty loosely governed, overall. Most individual Realms, you know, do their own thing," said Mar. She yawned. "Sorry, I've been playing messenger for a while. I don't suppose you have, like, a bunch of kids that need a temporary science teacher or something?"
"Um," said Ishiyama. "Why?"
"Why you have to meet up with the government?"
"No, after that."
"Why the individual Realms largely operate independently?"
"After that."
"Me playing messenger?"
"The last thing."
"Oh! Yeah, I feed on the energies given off by emotions of wonder, awe, curiosity, and the joy of discovery. Also, that feeling you get when you're, like, really focused and satisfied with your work and everything is just clicking? I can live on just ectoplasm, too, of course, everyone can – except humans, you shouldn't do that – but like I said, I've been moving around a lot and doing a lot of things, and the boost would be nice?"
"Are you also our escort?" asked Pamela.
"No, they're a bit slower than me and Lie, so they're going to be here in a few hours. Bulk transportation for nonfliers is slow."
"Do you have a more… exact time?"
"Sorry, not really. It isn't like we have speedometers. That'd sure be a thing, though, wouldn't it? Can you imagine the research that could be done? Like, there's a theory, one I ascribe to, by the way, that the very fastest people aren't actually all that much faster than anyone else, but that they're subconsciously warping spacetime? I mean, once you get going fast enough, your effective mass increases, so I suppose the whole warping spacetime thing happens to anyone going fast, but the people we're talking about aren't going fast enough for that effect to actually be measurable."
"What?" asked Ishiyama.
"Well—"
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At the time of Duulaman's death, Egypt had been a country with rich traditions reaching back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Since then, the ghostly version of the place had thousands more years to refine, or, as the case may be, elaborate on and adapt said traditions.
As one might expect, they mostly elaborated on them. Human or not, they were still people.
The full series of rituals intended to invest Tucker with the full powers of the Pharoah (which were political and religious in nature, rather than actual, well, powers) would take at least a year. Or so he had been told. He was rather hoping that they didn't involve him being present for the entire year, as rude as that sounded.
Most of the traditions were feasts, however, so Tucker could definitely get behind that. Lots of birds and fish, eggs cooked in a whole variety of ways, bread and beer, a whole roasted ghost gazelle, dripping with what might have been honey, dates, raisins, vegetables that were probably supposed to be green but were instead purple and vice versa. It was all…
Familiar.
The thought crossed his mind that this was what vegetables were supposed to be like, not what Sam did to them, and definitely not what the school did to them. It would have been an incredibly weird thought to have, if he hadn't been aware of the whole reincarnation thing.
Actually, a lot of this place was like that. A faint stirring of memory behind memory. A kind of nostalgia-but-not.
He liked waking up here, walking the halls, viewing the paintings on the walls and the water gardens in the courtyards. He liked the heat of the not-sun and the coolness of the maybe-sandstone. He liked practicing archery in the mornings and evenings, shooting at ever more distant targets.
It was as if he'd done it all before.
Which. From a certain perspective he had. But still.
Even with that background, he hadn't expected to like it here so much. And, no, it wasn't because some of the Egyptians literally worshipped him as a god. If anything, that just made him incredibly uncomfortable, given how power had gone to his head in the past…
He'd never give Danny a hard time about his cults again.
His parents didn't really do much when it came to the rituals. They were honored as the parents of the Pharoah (which was weird to a lot of the Egyptians, apparently- usually the Pharaoh's parents were, well, not around), but the main reason he wanted them there was to keep him in check, keep him grounded to reality, stop him from going overboard.
Because of the whole 'worshipped him as a god' thing.
Yeah.
But. Rituals. Politics. Familiarizing himself with the culture. Which was really re-familiarizing himself.
Because of the whole reincarnation thing.
Yeah.
He was also learning (re-learning?) magic and a whole lot of Egyptian and Ghost Zone history. Which was fun, if frustrating. His study skills hadn't exactly flourished while helping Danny deal with ghosts, although his grades weren't terrible.
Then there were the Egyptians' attempts at technology, which were somewhere between cute (barely functional and harmless) and terrifying (barely functional and likely to kill anyone who looked at it wrong).
Anyway, outside of the feasting, he was busy. Which is why the feasting was fun and relaxing in the first place.
Even if the feasting itself often preceded or directly followed rituals.
"My Pharoah," said Mutemwiya, leaning close behind him to whisper in his ear. "It is time."
Tucker nodded and rose, the linen coat he wore shifting dramatically as he did so. The end of his staff clicked against the stone floor. The room went dead silent for a moment, then everyone started cheering.
Tucker hadn't even said anything yet. Scratch that: he hadn't even intended on saying anything. Trying not to look like he was cringing, he raised a hand to indicate silence.
These people had waited far, far, too long for his awkward self.
"The Pharoah will now begin the Circumambulation of the White Walls!" announced the herald.
More cheering.
Tucker nodded silently and started to move, his court falling in behind him. The Circumambulation was one of the more important coronation rituals… He remembered the first time he did this, when the air was fresh and the wind too light to move the sand. The sun had been bright that day…
He shook his head. There was no sun here now, just the bright green glow of the sky and the luminous whiteness of the sand and the walls. The people stood out starkly against them, their skin shades of blue, green, and violet with the occasional black, brown, and tan thrown in. There were ritual items, feather fans, chariots, an entire (medium sized) boat, a group of dedicated warriors (reasonable—the original purpose of this ritual had been to inspect the walls to make sure they'd hold up to a battle), and all the citizens who wanted to come drawn out in a long line behind them.
It was breathtaking, honestly. All these people who wanted him here—
Or, at least, all these people who enjoyed long walks that were also parties. Same difference.
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Tucker returned to the palace worn but happy. There was mail waiting for him. The Royal Mail Opener (a position installed after Duulaman's cursed-mail-caused death) began to open them for him, with the proper rites observed. Then the open letters were laid on the low table in front of Tucker, almost reverently.
(He was… sort of getting used to this. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.)
He read them, or at least he tried to. Some were in languages he didn't speak. He spotted Coptic and something that might have been a paper adaptation of cuneiform on at least three of the letters and set them aside for a translator to go over with him.
Then he stopped.
"I thought Danny was already coronated," said Tucker, thinking out loud more than anything. "Is this just the celebration for it, or…?"
"If I my, oh great Pharaoh?"
"Sure," said Tucker, handing off the letter. There wasn't anything sensitive in it. As far as he could tell. It hadn't used any of the codes that he, Sam, and Danny had developed, anyway.
"Oh, Pharaoh, this is not an invitation to the Great King's coronation."
"It isn't?"
"No, great Pharaoh. It is for the Ring Ceremony. Smith has finished the forging of the Ring, and on this day, he will present it to King Phantom."
"I was sure I read coronation in there."
"You are correct, of course. It is here." The ghost pointed at the relevant passage.
"Oh," said Tucker. "Well, that's confusing. Did Danny write this while half asleep? I bet he did."
"I cannot tell," confessed the ghost.
"I think he did," said Tucker. "His handwriting is actually usually pretty good. Anyway, can I go, or is there something else happening here that I should stay for?"
"Great Pharaoh, I could not presume to give you instruction or bar you from the actions you deem correct. But, perhaps, you should speak to Mutemwiya about this?"
"You're right," said Tucker. "I think I'll do that."
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"Of course you should go," said Mutemwiya. "It will be the best networking event this decade. Unless he does have a coronation celebration later…"
Tucker idly wondered where Mutemwiya learned the word 'networking' and decided that, ultimately, it didn't matter.
"Right," said Tucker. "It'll be good to see Danny again. I've missed him."
