Hey guys! Lots of announcements and information at the end of the chapter so please enjoy and stick around till the end.


Chapter 18: The Witch, the Inferno.

Atemu was decidedly strange after that. Yugi quite comfortably maintained the bubble of air between them at least physically. She dodged kisses, offers to dance, glances at dinner, cues Atemu wanted to bend to but which Yugi brushed off and would for now. She was stiff on physicality and would not lurch into it. She couldn't however avoid braver requests Atemu made for conversation in the few proceeding days.

Yugi didn't mind conversation, she was not afraid of talking to anyone and when Atemu made an offer, asserting his own interest, and then spoke like a human being he shined more than in any other instance at least in Yugi's perception.

The French were bathing three mornings later, to Yugi's incredible surprise, and rasping the door into Yugi's sitting rooms from the connecting bedroom Atemu requested breakfast company though he seemed to have something particular on the mind. He was transparent in how stiff his back was when he sat down.

"I want to ask you something," Atemu prefaced, leant back, as he rapped the dull side of his knife against the rest of the chair.

"Hm?" Yugi sipped.

"You…" he paused thoughtfully. "I don't say this, at all, to be insulting but I've never understood how…" he gestured slightly with one hand; "you were raised, your whole life, in the West. Right inside the heart of Christ's church but you've converted here with such zeal and enthusiasm I just can't understand it."

"Well you converted to Christianity after a lifetime here," Yugi shrugged at his uncertainty, "why did you change your stripes?"

"Because I believe," Atemu answered with his typical romanticism. "There was something about that first time I sat in church, something about the word of God, that…I feel it, it feels right."

"Then mine is the opposite problem," Yugi laid her drink back down slipping the cutlery back up.

"No but surely," he pressed, "isn't there anything…" he gesticulated for the right syllables, "more than that?"

"There isn't for you."

"Yes but you divert it all onto me," Atemu grumbled, "can't I want to hear it in your own words?"

Yugi sighed, it was an uncomfortable topic. She could've trailed into ruminations but she decided, forced herself really, to put the knife down and verbalise them if only because they might prove valuable to Atemu's understanding. Qazzadara had mercifully never cared about such things rather he'd taken pride in fostering, allowing to flourish, Yugi's conversion to Eastern tenants.

"It's difficult to speak about." Yugi admitted. "I come from a continent where they call you a heretic and burn you if you refuse the word of God as the Church sees it. Hell you can believe God's ears are a different shape and find yourself on a rack in Britton." She sipped briefly, apprehensive.

"But don't you feel it? Doesn't it seem… true to you?"

"Not in my experience of the world no," she answered honestly, "but I'm biased."

"Why?" Atemu crossed his legs. "Shouldn't you be biased to it by that logic?"

"Because…" Yugi swirled her drink, cradling it as she tried to find how best to word it. "The Church has never greatly approved of my kind. Not since I was born. Women, gypsies, the foreign…My kin is more errant to them than anything else and…Well, I've felt that scorn and disapproval my whole life." She put the cup back down, shuffling in her seat trying to get comfortable and finding she couldn't. "Pastors burnt my grandmother and members of my extended family almost every other year. When I was thirteen…" Yugi shook her head, pressing on, "we stopped in a village and I had to spend a whole day up a tree because the boys tried to stone me."

"What?" He turned up his nose.

"Oh yes," Yugi laughed. "I was just starting to look like a woman and after a brief conversation the local children decided they didn't like me at all and drove me out. My father was off working and I didn't make it back to the caravan so I climbed the first tree I found outside town. Spent eight hours up there till they got bored of shouting curses, making games of it, and I finally felt brave enough to get down."

She shook her head; "I was so scared and I remember thinking to myself; well, God obviously doesn't love me. Apparently I'm not his child, we're not part of the scriptures, they must've been written for people who build houses."

Atemu sighed, deeply, and elbow propped on the rest turned his face into his fingertips. "Christ almighty."

Throwing her hands up Yugi shrugged, as if to say; you asked.

"The Bible isn't like that," Atemu defended.

"No but it does suggest stoning," Yugi gestured curtly with her index finger. "Jehovah the God of battles cannot be erased from the Old Testament."

"Yet the whole point of the New is to say Heaven's changed."

"Well tell the Christians that," she laughed, "because evidently no one's delivered the message. It told you I was a sinner didn't it?"

"Yes but…" Atemu withered, shaking his head as he changed tactics; "no, I decided that in my own stubbornness before Christ-"

"It gave you plenty of ammunition." Yugi raised her glass.

Atemu moaned.

"You won't convert me back that easily," the Sultana warned, fingers tracing the rim. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

"But-"

"No," Yugi answered sing-song.

"Just because-" Atemu spread both his hands illustratively.

"No."

Moaning the Sultan groaned back.


"So your Majesty is leaving in a few days?" Yugi leant back into her hands seated comfortably across the massive blanket organized in the shadow of a cluster of clawing fern trees.

"Unfortunately milady," Dartz snapped his fingers for a slave to thrust out more mead.

Across the plater Seth and Zarzak were hassling Timaeus playfully, flicking at him like puppies as the flustered European war horse tried to keep up with their clucking. The ladies were charming the French on their own blankets, Atemu was sword fighting with Falker and his mewling nephews ignoring the rest of the picnic they'd organized out inside the fields.

"You must be pleased at least that you'll get to see your new daughter," Yugi glanced across her shoulder which the cut of the dress had left bare. She would be exuberant to be out of these clothes and back in her saris.

"Aye, indeed, but it feels as though I ought not get too attached."

"Hmm?"

"Fathers can't with daughters," Dartz shrugged, "you have them a few years, can teach them nothing unless you take them from their mothers and then they leave to be married."

"Hmm," Yugi murmured lazily, conversation slipping into generalized laziness. Dartz was only so endurable. He assumed an alliance between them and he said things on occasion that were so…

"I shall miss your Majesties' company."

"And we yours."

"I'd hope so," he lowered his voice slightly.

Yugi raised a brow, expecting his regular brand of teasing. "Oh?"

"I feel dreadful that I have to part ways with you here."

Yugi snorted docilely, "never fear. I'm sure I'll be well cared for."

"Ah but sometimes," Dartz sighed absently, "I think the world would be a much prouder place if couples could swap in special cases."

"Whatever do you mean?" She chuckled.

"I wonder, to myself," he lowered his tone, "if your husband would've been a happier man with my wife and if I would, today, be a much more content man with you."

"Such is the trouble of fate." Yugi dismissed light heartedly, biting her tongue.

"Civilized men should find a way around it." He murmured.

Yugi was not, exactly, sure how to respond.


Upon returning to the palace a meagre handful of hours before dinner Atemu was first off his horse into the crowd, passing between the steads and bustling slaves come to take the reigns from the riders. Sliding into place as a boy of thirteen took Yugi's horse by the neck the Sultan was there to hold out his arms as Yugi began to make to dismount. Turning, pausing, she readjusted herself and let her weight slip from the saddle into his arms that caught her competently as if she weighed nothing just, as she realized, she had trusted them to.

Without any strain he let her heels touch the soft earth near the stables hands falling from right under her armpits to down her waist.

"Come sit with me in the rooms before dinner?" He offered, murmuring it seemed to make it more a private invitation than an open one.

"Not this afternoon Sire," Yugi patted his shoulder lazily, "this heat and these damn dresses make my head ache. I want to lie down an hour or two before I have to be up again for the dancing."

"Tis reasonable enough," Atemu sighed, hands flexing round her waist before releasing. "Take it easy won't you?"

"Aye, aye," she chorused empathetically, "I'll freshen up with a little bit in the cool air. I'll be damned if a dress kills me."

Atemu chuckled, letting her pass however languidly.


Still in the damnable thing, if only because Yugi couldn't bear the effort of getting in and out of it all over again before the evening meal, Yugi collapsed with a pile of rustling skirts into a well-padded chair. Head lulling back she began to pull free the pins holding down the riding cap and then pinning the locks. As the tension left her scalp, little pearl pins pattering onto the footrest over the arm of the chair, the scrape of the metal evaporating made everything seem lighter. Sighing she made no effort to muse her hair into anything more reasonable and settled her shoulders down.

The curtains were pulled lazily together, still half open in parts of the sitting rooms between opened doorways, and with the air slipping down onto the dry, coral, scent of the dead hearth Yugi could slip her shoes off and know peace. Eyes fluttering shut Yugi fancied she felt Anzu's ghost walking from the window sill towards an inner chamber further away where she used to keep her sewing supplies in the ivory desk. It seemed to pass away, drifting out of perception, and cheek lulling onto her shoulder, the stillness of the tepid skin pressing together creating warmth, she faded with it.

Yugi was almost gone, hands lulling into her lap as her heels slid out under her to make her slouch, when the door thumped solidly and parted.

Yugi blinked up, startled groggily.

"Your Grace?"

Dartz.

Swearing, half awake, Yugi pushed her shoes back on, hearing them clack harshly in the din of silence. Forcing herself up she had another half a second to try and pat her hair into reasonableness before the Frenchman was wrapping his knuckles in the archway with an inquisitive glance, amused, in greeting.

"Sir," Yugi raised her hands only to slap them back down against her skirt futilely. "What are you doing here?"

"I wondered if you had a moment?"

"Is it very important?" She snorted amusedly, patience weak enough as was without the men hassling her.

"I think so," he shrugged amicably, chuckling; "but I see I've stirred you?"

"Hmm," she shrugged. "Something like that."

"Then I'll keep us away from tiresome conversation." He promised. "You could lie back again if you liked?"

"No Sir, tis fine. That might be inappropriate."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Dartz forwarded folding his arms to rest them on the backing of a seat a few feet away. "I think I'd like to be inappropriate with you."

Of course you would.

"Oh?" Yugi raised one brow almost in a scoff, "and what do you mean by that?"

"That you're lovely," Dartz shrugged casually, then thickly; "and I'd like to fall into bed with you."

"I'm married." She drawled bluntly.

"To a man you quite obviously loathe," the Frenchman chuckled to Yugi's surprise. "You two barely seem to stand each other. So…" he pushed off the seat ambling round with the flippant; "to hell with your husband."

"Heh, so much for European honour eh?" Yugi snorted, watching every step as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Oh everyone breaks a few rules," Dartz shrugged closer, "that's what confession's for."

"And what," Yugi posited as he came to stand eye to eye with her, "if I'm not interested?"

"I think you're very good at playing hard to get and I'm very good at what I do," he offered. "I'd wager I'm certainly better in bed than a man who couldn't seem to properly bed two women."

"Too bad I don't feel like bedding anyone then."

"Oh I'll be gone in a week," Dartz tossed his hands, "what's the harm of us having a touch of fun? Of intimacy? What's the harm in you receiving the treatment only a proper king can give?"

Yugi laughed, almost spitefully. Oh that ego. She wanted him out and she wanted him out quietly. Now before subtle nerves and growing distaste bubbled up too strongly.

"You don't trust my hands?"

"Sir, I think," Yugi grunted arms still folded, "that you've had too much sun and drink today and you should go back to your rooms."

"Give a mere hour of your time," he offered hands reaching out to settle upon Yugi's hips. As the fingers flexed through the fabric to draw her closer she pivoted, turning, skirts swishing, to face the fire still drawn up tight.

"We both have better things to do with an hour." She answered, struggling for gentleness in the rejection. Atemu wanted this alliance didn't he? And European men were such easily wounded, ridiculous, creatures.

Sighing, chuckling airily, Dartz's hands remained poised hopping round her hips as he pushed up against her back. This was all coyness to him, all game, all something Yugi could be wooed into he was quite confident it seemed.

He leant mouth pecking the side of her neck, face drifting up to nuzzle behind the shell of her ear.

"Sir-" she warned arms falling slackly from where they'd been crossed.

"Hmm?" He squeezed her closer.

"You should go."

"I promise you no one will ever find out," he assured, "relax."

"Sir, I'm going to ask you to leave." Yugi rasped thick and soft, Dartz's mouth nestled behind the curve of her ear amongst strands of unpinned hair. Her fingers fanned out towards the hollow hearth of the fireplace, which held her oldest enemy.

"And if I don't milady?" He teased, fingers flexing upon his hips through the flowing plume of the skirt.

"I will make you leave." She threatened.

Dartz chuckled playfully. There was an innocent kind of ignorance, a carelessness about him, convinced Yugi was some coy minx happy to play at being stiff and unattainable but easily swayed. Yugi's fingers curled settling upon the iron bar of the fire poker propped alongside the hearth.

As one hot palm slid along the pearled stomacher up towards the swell of her breast Yugi's fingers and ankles tensed.

Elbows tucking in, she swung back lashing with the same unpredicted brutality of a lunging snake. The King screamed hoarsely as twisting in his arms the little woman came down hard against his flank with the iron bar.

Yugi hit him twice, ruthless and fast, hands raising sharply above her head as the King hit the floor and she bought the bar down once with a grunting hiss inside her throat.

The door clattered, sandalled feet scuffling, and stumbling in with their swords drawn the mute, tongueless, guards of Yugi's chambers found the King crying out on the tiles as he spat blood.

Fingers unfurling Yugi registered the clinking thwack of the iron poker dropping uselessly to the floor. She panted.

"You," Yugi rasped to a thick set pair, "throw him out and you," she glanced to the second ebony bull, "stay."

Grunting, tiny clucks of consent from the backs of their throats where they could still make the slightest noise with their stubbed tongue, the stockier set of guards turned themselves to the task of returning the swine to the sty. The third guard, that sweet silent friend, fetched Yugi's milk and honey as she fell legs half tremulous into a seat.


No one came to call Yugi for dinner. Dinner was abruptly cancelled without warning. Instead a servant boy brought in a tray and face in her hands, hands on her knees, Yugi took shallow breaths. Sitting beside her on the tiles, like a loyal dog, her co-conspirator guard stroked her back silently.

Had she killed him? She doubted she had, she wasn't so strong, but there was a possibility she had broken something in a brief, well aimed, hit. She's strayed away from his groin at least but…

Yugi moaned. Christ almighty the men of the world…men

Men were so full of fire, Yugi so hated fire, was such an antithesis to it, that every leap of the spark sent her reeling back and hissing like a tide against hot metal in a blacksmith's fort. Yet Dartz… She'd warned him, she steeled herself, she had warned him. Should she have been gentler, kicked before she turned armed? Some instinctive, untrusting, part of her reasoned if she'd lashed out without taking him down in the first attempt he would've overpowered her before a second. She'd never been quite so violent.

Yugi wasn't sure if she was proud or not but she was quite convinced she might be put to death. Atemu was paranoid at the best of times, a story a little too convincingly on the French side and…Well, she didn't expect much these days, ever. Atemu was not a bad man but a man's opinion still, predictably, would mean more than a woman's Yugi ventured. That was a universal.

Should she have screamed?

She was asking herself questions in circles.

Groaning she unfurled slightly and throwing her arms round the guard's neck hugged him to her on his knees, his hands patting her back.

Yugi only received another stray half an hour before a page boy from the Sultan's rooms came all the way round to her main door and asked her to follow with her hair still out the way it would be if she ever went to the pyre.


When she found Atemu and Dartz waiting for her Yugi knew she'd been presented to both kings to console the issue of why Frenchman was now black and blue.

She composed herself back to strictness immediately.

It looked dreadful for Yugi and she found herself questioning what Atemu would assume of her this time. He had assumed, trusted his gut, a great deal since the first day they met. What about now? With a French king unchaperoned in Yugi's rooms, an important political ally beaten by Atemu's westerner hating wife?

Folding her arms, removed from it all, as a kind of dreadful resolution slipped over Yugi bolstered by her loathing and uncomfortable satisfaction. Let this be the end, let Atemu take the excuse to remove Yugi, let protecting her virtue against everything she hated be the last proud act which brought Yugi finally to the hungrily waiting pyre with her head held high. Yugi could die willingly with this kind of charge, run to face her fate rather than squirm to flee it. This would be the only time Yugi would pass forward without fear.

"You called Milord?" Yugi cocked one hip boldly wrapped and adorned, finally, in her true colours and traditional saris. She refused to come here garbed like a westerner now the gloves were off.

Dartz darkened all over, eyes stormy, as Yugi glanced from Atemu to the Frenchman.

"His Majesty says," Atemu began standing equally straight, "that you attacked him."

"I did."

The Westerner scoffed, tense and sour across his whole form; "I told you, didn't I?"

Humming dryly, impassively, Atemu nodded and returned to Yugi. "He says you called him to your rooms and turned on him. What do you say?"

"I say he invited himself," Yugi hissed, "and attempted to force himself."

"Don't you dare you wretched little-"

"Sir," Atemu murmured, soft smooth voice cutting through Dartz gently as the Sultan rested the small of his back into the desk behind him. "We have a problem."

"Damn right we do my friend."

"The core problem I see," Atemu sighed, "is that I believe her."

Dartz and Yugi, very simultaneously, wretched. Gawking Yugi couldn't quite contain the way her lips fell and distraught Dartz did not even attempt to.

"Are you mad?" The Frenchman forced himself to his unsteady feet a retainer and a physician rushing to try and stabilize him. "I give you my word that wild woman let herself loose upon me for no reason!"

"By your story," Atemu shrugged, "you went to her rooms with a summons, an invitation, and were quite content to be with her unchaperoned. What were you expecting would happen? Because if you're telling me I should punish my wife who you were, by your own account, going to liaison with under my nose then shame on you."

He could say nothing to that, except being noble he certainly tried; "and to think I assumed you were more civilized than this!" He boomed, raging. "Well if that is your response Sir then I will be leaving in the morning and you'll be lucky if I don't return to storm you with warships rather than merchant vessels!"

"I am terribly sorry to hear that," Atemu shrugged shoulders holding only the most reserved, hidden, tension and distaste. "I assure you my servants will endeavour to make your night comfortable and your passage home tomorrow safe."

"I'd appreciate the same treatment on the way back with a crusade!" He boomed sweeping, shambling and hobbling painfully, past Yugi towards the doors.

As they slammed, frozen on the tiles, Yugi watched the exit the where the king's shadow had vanished through. Eventually returning back upon the Sultan Yugi… Yugi shook her head.

"Do you need a physician?"

Yugi blinked, jolted by the tired whisper.

"What?" She wheezed.

"Are you hurt somewhere?" Atemu repeated stupidly, plainly.

"You…" Yugi stammered, breathless. "You believed me…"

"Of course I did," he grunted, taken aback.

"But why…?"

"Because it's ridiculous, how could I believe that?" Atemu snorted dryly. At Yugi's gawk, Yugi's pale, horrified, expression he seemed to realize he had to continue though it appeared to half embarrass him. "If…If you wanted a lover you would've taken one months ago. It would be one of my brothers not some white man." He sighed tiredly, pushing his hair back from his face. "You would not get caught and, honestly, if you were the type of woman to fly off the handle and beat a man without due duress I would know."

Atemu laughed exasperatedly; "if you haven't hit me in seven years how am I to believe you beat some stranger without a damn good reason? I've given you dozens! For God's sake, don't make me laugh."

"I…" Yugi exhaled thickly, pushing her fringe back. "I've cost you the treaty. This whole horrid fiasco's been for nothing."

Atemu blinked, thrown.

"What?" He cut dumbstruck. "What on earth are you talking about? What do you expect you were supposed to let him have you? That was the other option, why in God's name wouldn't you plaster him across the floor?"

Yugi shook her head. This was not at all what was supposed to happen. There was supposed to be rage, a frustration in- "I should've kept my temper," she muttered lost.

"Ha!" Atemu hacked. "You? Keep your temper? You don't even have a temper! That's ridiculous!"

"But..." Yugi fumbled, ferreting and waiting for that moment.

"I'm not coddling some right arse," Atemu seemed offended at the suggestion, "to hell with him. It's frustrating as all hell but…what else are we to do?"

"I should've-"

"Should've what?" He floundered, unable to comprehend whatever she was floundering across. "He let himself into your room didn't he? Didn't he?"

"Yes!"

"And you told him no didn't you?"

"Of course I did," she moaned.

"And he didn't listen?" Atemu spread his hands.

"No…"

"And so you picked up a weapon and thrashed him to pieces like a slave," the Sultan concluded slapping his hands down against his thighs. "Of course you did. Serves the devil right to think he can fondle my women! If my Father were still alive and someone had manhandled my mother, or even you, he would've been furious! He'd declare the war himself! That man-" Atemu thrust his hand out index finger jutting harshly "-would've left this room a head shorter! How dare he disrespect me like that! How dare he think he can get away with such nonsense!"

"I don't…" Yugi laughed, brokenly. "I didn't think you'd actually believe me!"

"I don't have to!" Atemu bemoaned. "It's common sense! I can't think any different!"

"You're supposed to be furious at me!"

"I'd be furious at you if you insulted me by taking that sort of treatment!" He snapped. "I trust you to handle yourself not roll over like a weak bellied urchin! Now I don't have to beat him myself!"

"I really didn't think that," Yugi shuddered collapsing into seat to cradle her face in her hands, "I thought that you'd assume…"

"Oh have a little faith," Atemu grunted, "I'm not stupid."

"God…" for the first time in an hour, face in her hands, Yugi actually exhaled, hiccupping.

The Sultan stiffened. "Are you crying?"

"No I'm not c-crying!" Yugi laughed, cawed, voice breaking, wrapping herself in her own arms and burying her face in her knees. Relieved and nearly sobbing, almost hysterically amused, too much at once really.

"No, don't you dare," Atemu fumbled closer, moaning, fingertips brushing her shoulder hesitantly. "I can't bear it when you cry. It makes my insides split open."

Laughing, choking, Yugi unfurled up and latched her arms round his standing waist over the side of the chair burying her face in his stomach with another sobbing laugh as her nails dug into his jacket. His hands reeled up and back away, whole body clenching in the immediate aftershock as if he thought for a moment she'd tried to lash out at him. In next thirty to sixty seconds the Sultan visibly digested the fact Yugi was clawed up against him, clinging to him in…was that actually gratitude? Yugi could sense his brain ticking over painfully like broken clockwork.

Two dark hands settled, eventually, on her with trepidation. Atemu's palm slid across the back of her neck, stabilizing there, and the other rested on a tense jut of bone in her shoulder letting her cling.

"Are…" Atemu paused, inhaling so deeply Yugi could feel his chest expand under her cheek, "are you alright?" The palm along the back of her neck squeezed gently and nodding into the linen of his shirt she couldn't quite bring herself to expose her face.

Atemu quite obviously wasn't sure what to do but for an instant Yugi was too pleased with him to care as he gathered up the courage or the impulse to smooth his hands round her a little firmer.

"He'll leave tomorrow," the Sultan assured, "I don't suppose we can make a scene tossing him out but I don't think we're under any obligation to be friendly anymore."

Yugi squeezed, arms hooked round him taunt.

Atemu's hand ran, almost without ever touching, through her hair.

"It's alright."

"I know," Yugi managed without loosening the knot.

Atemu made a noise as if to speak again but let it go with an exhale, still weak and flustered. He was so frazzled by her sudden willingness it was almost ridiculous how he shrank even when she butted her face into his navel. Still he managed to run his fingers through her hair a little heavier in his touch but always half unsure.

Untangling eventually Yugi dabbed her face, taking a deep breath that bunched up and released her shoulders tiredly.

"I just want to sleep," she murmured.

"Go on then," Atemu cocked his head hand gesturing out invitingly, "it doesn't matter. Are you sure you don't want a doctor? Nothing actually…?"

"I'm sure," Yugi nodded tiredly as she stood, "he barely got a fondle before I had his nose crushed on the tiles."

Atemu snorted, proud perhaps?

"Goodnight milord," Yugi glanced, strolling away on the tide of exhales as Atemu swallowed, wringing his fingers along the hilt of his sword.

"Goodnight Dear."

With a sound of barely veiled amusement, something gentle, Yugi tucked a piece of hair a side and vanished.


Next Time: Atemu and Yugi usher in the end of an era, and us the end of a story.

Out Now:
Chapter 1 of Gambit is currently up on AO3. If you've never read Gambit I'd recommend getting on that train. It's loads of fun. As the old guard can tell you (don't believe any stories suggesting I broke their hearts, tis mere slander)

[GAMBIT: An opening in which a player makes a sacrifice, typically of a pawn, for the sake of some compensating advantage. OR A device, action, or opening remark, typically one entailing a degree of risk, that is calculated to gain an advantage... Yami Sennen is the beleaguered minister for defence and Yugi Mutou is the imperial army's star mech pilot. An illicit affair between them spirals out of control with the aid of a king, a hero and a monster.]

Upcoming:
Chapter 1 of my brand new story Regicide will be up on AO3 in the next three weeks. With fortnightly updates it promises to be in the range of 22-32 chapters?

[REGICIDE: the slaughter of one King is just the birth of another. But this adventure doesn't end with one dead king, a revolution or even a kiss. Watch Yugi Mutou, Yami Sennen and their ragtag group of revolutionaries battle to overthrow the diabolical Pharaoh Atem only to learn some monsters can't be banished with pitchforks…]