Chapter 8: Face to Face
The eyes of everyone in the room rested on the plain wooden chair against the back wall of the similarly plain room. Simple brown walls on all sides, Pharaoh Atemu, High Priest Seto, Priest Mahad, and Little Mana were all entirely focused on it, Mana in particular had both of her little hands extended out towards it.
Without warning, the chair was suddenly splintered into several pieces, an unseen force ripping it apart from within. The four legs were sent flying into the walls, the seat rocketing up to the ceiling as the backrest tore away to slam against the backwall. Those pieces of wood shattered upon impact with the walls and ceilings into a couple dozen pieces of wood splinters, finally coming to rest on the floor.
Mana fell to her knees, panting heavily, beads of sweat on her forehead. Mahad glanced down at her, then up to Atemu.
"My Pharaoh, I assure you we have both dedicated all of our awake hours to honing this craft and I'm sure that you'll see something more satisfactory in-" Mahad quickly spilled out, but Atemu raised his palm up towards him.
"It's good enough." Atemu said simply, eyes on the splinters of wood across the small room. "You've done well, Mahad. You as well Mana."
Mahad blinked stupidly for a second, again looking over at the remains of the chair, wondering if Mana had perhaps managed to blast a hole through the back wall of the room. "I-"
"I have seen what I need to see here." Atemu looked down at Mana, who was getting to her feet. "You've made me proud, young Mana. You may retire to your chamber if you wish for the remainder of the day."
Mana smiled as she rubbed the sweat from her brow, then bowed deeply to the Pharaoh before scampering out of the room through the door behind the Pharaoh. As soon as the door slid shut behind her, Seto turned to Atemu.
"I admire your patience, Pharaoh, but sparing the girl's feelings is not going to do us any good." He said, glancing at the door before looking back at his Pharaoh.
"I'm not sure I understand your meaning, High Priest." The Pharaoh said coolly, reaching toward his waist.
"She almost lost to a chair." Seto said, forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Had he brought a friend, she would have been doomed." He followed up sarcasticaly.
"I assure you, I know what I'm doing." He pulled a small scroll of paper from a pocket on his belt, handing it to Mahad who took it slowly. "Mana's showed me enough, she's ready to play her part in the advancement of my Empire."
Seto sucked his right cheek into his mouth for a second, then cleared his throat. "I trust your judgement, of course, Pharaoh."
Mahad unfurled the note and his eyes quickly danced across it, revealing nothing on his face as he did so.
"For the time being, I'll be keeping things need-to-know." Atemu added, as Seto stared at the note in Mahad's hands. "That's why the rest of the inner circle is not here. I'm sure you understand." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Seto.
"Of course." Seto nodded.
"Now, I believe you'll be needing the assistance of Mahad for tonight." Atemu said, looking over at Mahad as he did so.
"What's tonight?" Mahad asked, walking over to the walltorch behind him and setting the small note aflame, letting the burning piece of parchment fall to the ground.
"All prisoners in Cairo have been transferred to Daphnae Penitentiary, the most secure prison in all of Egypt." Atemu explained. "So, we know exactly where the Thief King is going to be tonight."
"If I may, Pharaoh." Mahad interjected. "I don't believe this Thief King is above using his jailbreak claims as a decoy, drawing our attention while he attacks elsewhere."
"The thought occurred to me." Atemu said simply. "I suspect Bakura thinks himself unstoppable, that he can do as he pleases without concern. Such a man does not bother with misdirection and decoys. Besides, releasing all of the prisoners in Egypt would create the chaos he desires, perhaps more than anything else he could do."
"So Daphnae is to be a trap for the Thief King then?" Mahad asked. "But you gave Mana the rest of the day off-"
"Mana will have her part to play in this." Atemu cut him off casually. "Not tonight, however."
"With all due respect, my Pharaoh, what else could we possibly use to trap him? He's already cut through dozens of armed guards and soldiers, even the hardened sentries of Daphnae don't stand-" Mahad insisted, but the Pharaoh continued to dismiss his words.
"High Priest Seto has a plan, one that you're to help him with." Atemu said. "He'll give you all the particulars."
"Understood." Mahad gave a small bow.
"I will defeat this Thief King, and Egypt will come back stronger than ever, my trusted Priests." Atemu said. "I have seen it in my mind, last night as I put together the final pieces to this puzzle. But please remember, it's all dependent on everyone playing their part. That means people like you two. Follow my orders to the letter, whether or not you fully understand them."
Atemu turned around to look at the door to the small room, staring at it for a few seconds. "Seto, how's your father?"
"My-...Aknadin? Well, I...well, I believe he's doing quite good...do you not see him frequently? Has he been acting strange?"
Atemu sighed heavily. "I fear he's the traitor." Seto flinched at this, but Atemu paid it no heed. "I've been thinking about it a lot recently. It fits, doesn't it? He's the odd man out. A carry-over from my father's reign. I was never even sure if he liked me. He tried to wrest the kingdom away from me years ago, after my father went comatose. Remember?"
Seto nodded stiffly. "...yes, sir, I remember."
"I can come to no other conclusion." Atemu said sadly. "Someone in my inner circle plots against me, I know it. I truly hate to suspect any of them, but...but Aknadin's the only one with motive." Atemu stood there, in a stony silence, for several seconds. "I'm going to place him under house arrest tomorrow, and this conversation is not to leave this room. But I wanted your opinion before I moved against him. Speak freely."
Seto inhaled deeply. "I respect your thought process, Pharaoh." Seto said slowly. "But before you do anything against my father, I ask you remember all the things he has done for this country and for your reign."
"So have all those in my inner circle. And yet here we are." Atemu countered.
"Aknadin is a man who has given his whole life to serve the Pharaoh, to serve Egypt. I know him better than anyone, and while he was not a childhood friend or someone you handpicked, he has always had full respect for you and all you have done for Egypt. I can not believe such a man would assist a terrorist to destroy all he has worked so hard to build." Seto continued.
"So you do not believe your father is working with Bakura?" Atemu inferred, his expression serene even as Seto's face turned red.
"Absolutely not." Seto said strongly.
"Then who?" Atemu continued to goad.
Seto swallowed hard, looking down at the floor before turning his gaze back to Atemu. "Perhaps there...there is no traitor. A palace guard or servant, perhaps, but maybe suspecting the inner circle is...is-"
"Paranoia?" Atemu finished, raising his eyebrows.
"...is premature." Seto finally got out.
"I appreciate your input." Atemu said lightly, turning to Mahad as Seto glared at Atemu's back. "You?"
"...you mean...Aknadin?" Mahad stumbled, eyes widening slightly. "Well...Aknadin is a man who has...has taught me a lot. I think he's taken all of us under his wing at some point. I've never suspected him of anything, never had anything bad to say about him. So...if you want my opinion, I don't believe Aknadin capable of such evil acts. I don't suspect anyone in your inner circle, my Pharaoh."
"Thank you, both of you." Atemu took a couple steps toward the door. "Lay the trap and make the arrangements. I'm sorry to bring this up now, but I felt that I must. I appreciate the trust and respect you have for Aknadin, and if you think I'm being paranoid, I understand. Aknadin will have the opportunity to prove himself innocent." He turned to look back at Seto. "As you know, I am fair."
Seto nodded shortly. "Of course, sir."
With that, Atemu took the last few steps to the door, opened it, stepped through it, and shut the door behind him softly.
Seto slowly stepped over to Mahad's side. "He's testing me." He said slowly, pointing at the door. "My father would never do something like this, and he knows it."
"We'll know tomorrow." Mahad responded. "I don't know, he seems serious."
"...I wish I could see his mind." Seto grunted. "All of this, it doesn't add up, it doesn't make sense. I don't understand what he's doing, what he's thinking."
"All we can do is believe in him." Mahad said. "Now, you needed my help with something?"
Seto slowly turned to look at Mahad, remaining silent for a long time. "...yes. We have a trap to lay."
""""
A beam of energy blasted a gaping hole into the two-foot thick stone wall that surrounded the entire compound, breaking the silence of the cool night with great aplomb. Screams echoed through the air as a few guards who were patrolling behind the wall were crushed under the flying rock. Immediately, several dozen sentries ran madly towards the breach, swords out, even as others retreated back into the large prison compound, re-enforcing the security within.
Another explosion erupted in the area of the wallhole, sending dozens of bodies flying through the air like ragdolls along with chunks of rock and dirt. As the dust from that attack cleared, a handful of cloaked men swept through the gap, spreading out in the grass courtyard as arrows began to rain down from the roof of the prison. It took just seconds for another explosion to blast near the top of the massive building, sending concrete in all directions and opening up a gap to the inside of the structure.
A final cloaked figure finally appeared through the gap, the white haired Thief King, who waved his hand toward the building's roof, causing a series of explosions to rip through the wall near the roof. The archers neutralized for the time being, the attackers moved forward without resistance.
The grouping came to the steel back door, unprotected. The Thief King beckoned one of them to open it, so the one nearest quickly stepped forward and pushed the heavy gateway open, the hinges squealing loudly.
The Thief King lightly stepped through the opened door, looking around the dull gray cafeteria, plain wooden tables and chairs lining the large room. Bakura looked around casually, wondering why there had been no attempted ambush at the door.
Shrugging it off, he motioned for his men to begin sweeping through the prison, looking for the easiest way to release the prisoners. They did so, moving into the structure then shuffling off in every direction.
Bakura moved straight forward, through the tables, his eye on the doors across the room. Looking around cautiously as he moved, he got to the door and placed his hand on the handle.
As soon as he did, the gray steel door began to glow a bright blue, drawing his attention. Before he could even think to react, the door erupted into a green fireball, blasting right into the body of Bakura and sending him flying back into the cafeteria, slamming hard into a wooden table and turning it into lumber.
A searing pain in his torso and right leg, Bakura could feel his consciousness leaving him. Desparately, he tilted his head up, forcing his watering eyes open.
The High Priest was standing in front of him, having emerged from the now doorless gateway, several Egyptian Soldiers behind him, quickly sweeping around Seto to grab Bakura.
His body lifted up by the soldiers, he felt his cloaks being roughly removed and his body being searched for any items. A second later, he was slammed down on his back on one of the standing wooden tables. Seto came into his vision, just as he was losing it, and the last thing he heard was the High Priest's voice.
"We got you." And with that, he could stay awake no longer.
""""
Atemu looked the bronze door, thick and heavy, up and down as the four soldiers in the small transition room bowed low to him. He motioned for them to rise, looking at the door handle.
"It's secure?" He said simply at the one to the immediate right of the door.
"He's restrained." The guard said simply.
"It's not his physical abilities I'm concerned with." Atemu responded, folding his arms over his chest. "As I recall, my instructions were to execute him before he woke up."
"This was found in his pockets." The guard answered, holding up a vial of green liquid. "Mahad inspected it. It's a potion that simulates black magic."
Atemu snatched it from the guard's fingers, holding it up to the light. After a couple seconds, he nodded and grabbed the round door handle. Pulling the bronze slab toward him, he slipped into the room and shut it behind him.
In the small room of gray concrete blocks, lit by two torches on the sidewalls, there was a massive steel pillar right in the middle. Two thick chains of gray steel extended from holes halfway up the pillar, reaching down, clasping down on the wrists of a middle-aged man with large, spiky white hair and pale skin, holding them up at angles near his head. He had been forced into a kneeling position, his shins strapped to the ground with steel strips. Finally, his forehead and neck had been forced back against the pillar, steel rings securing them. His cloak had been removed, leaving him in just his pants. He was grimacing in discomfort, but as soon as he laid eyes on the Pharaoh he cracked a smile.
"Evening." Atemu said, slowly stepping towards the restrained Bakura.
"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Bakura sneered.
"For you, I make an exception." Atemu countered, looking down at his bound nemesis. "I couldn't miss this." He looked over the scars on the chest of the prisoner. "So. Bakura the Thief King. Who are you really?"
Bakura glared up at the Pharaoh, his fingers wriggling back and forth in their chains. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, you're no magician." Atemu held the small vial up in front of him, showing it to Bakura. "Artificial. Not that I'm surprised, you didn't strike me as the black magician type." He slipped it into his robes. "Mahad should get a kick out of analyzing this. It's funny, had you actually been a magician, you would have been executed immediately while unconscious. But, since you're apparently just another helpless mortal without your potion...well, this is even better." He leaned forward slightly. "Where'd you get it?"
"Thousands of miles south of here, in lands even you can't imagine." Bakura responded, lips curling up into a demented smile. "When you have as much gold and as few morals as I, you can get anything if you set your mind to it. But nobody knows that better than you, isn't that right?"
"Well, I hope you had fun with it. You did cause a lot of damage." Atemu leaned his right hand against the steel pillar, now towering over his prisoner. "Now-"
"I believe it's my turn to ask a question, False Pharaoh." Bakura spat.
"You don't get a turn." Atemu hissed back, grabbing Bakura's hair and pulling up on it hard, making him wince. "This is my prison, my palace, my city, my empire, my rules."
"Sha'nt give answer if you don't let me have my turns." Bakura said through gritted teeth, as Atemu let go of his hair.
Atemu considered him for several seconds, his chest heaving with each breath he took. "Fine. Ask away."
"How in the name of Ra did you cook that up?" He growled. "I'm really curious."
"You're a grand criminal, Thief King. But you left one loose end." Atemu said, smirking. "And it has undone you. You remember your attack on my palace? The bedroom?"
"Ah yes." Bakura nodded slightly. "The explosion your little whore queen managed to survive?" There was short pause as Atemu stared at Bakura blankly. "What? You're not even man enough to punch me after that?"
"I don't have to." Atemu said smoothly. "You're the one in chains. In any case, one of my priests was at the scene to handle your magical fire. She contained it, imprisoned it in an orb. And although my priests can't generate black magic, they can manipulate it. And they did, cooking up that clever little trap."
"Well played." Bakura conceded. "And I'm the last person who'd give you an ounce of respect."
"Now then. Thief King Bakura is a fairy tale, a fable made up by small time crooks, we both know that. So, my question is, what's your real name and who are you really?" Atemu continued.
Bakura gave a choked laugh, then grunted. "Thief King Bakura is not a person, false Pharaoh. It's a title. A symbol. One that criminals all across the globe can look at and feel inspiration. It's been around for hundreds of years. My father, and his father before him, they were the Thief King Bakura. And now it's me. For hundreds of years, we've served as the royalty of the criminal underworld, heading the charge against peace and order everywhere. Our supply of gold and jewels knows no limit and is added to every day, our brotherhood expands on a constant basis, and even a man who fancies himself a god such as yourself could not stop us."
"I don't fancy myself a god." Atemu interrupted. "The gods have chosen to favor me."
"Whatever." Bakura snarled. "Thief King Bakura is very real, false Pharaoh. And I am nothing if I am not Thief King Bakura. I have no other name or identity, and if I did it's gone now. But you can not kill me then, can you?" He started to smile dementedly again. "I have become that title. And you can't kill a title no matter how you might try. Rip my body to shreds, burn the pieces to ash, and you will have done nothing. Another will claim the title and he will come to take your throne. So really, no matter what you do, you can't kill me in any meaningful way." He turned his head slightly to the right, spitting. "Does that answer your question?"
Atemu nodded. "Your turn." He said grudgingly.
"No one's listening into our conversation, so you can be honest with me." Bakura began, glancing to his left and right before continuing. "Do you know anything about your ancestors?"
"What are you babbling about?" Atemu growled.
"Let me tell you a little story. It's about your ancestors, you'll want to hear this." Bakura cleared his throat. "Five hundred years ago, there was no Egypt, nothing but empty desert. No kingdom, no empire, nothing. The gods wanted a grand kingdom, one that would be a testament to their will and power, one that would become the dominant superpower in the world and be the mortal representation of their dominance. But the gods could not agree on who would be named to rule this kingdom. Each had mated several times with mortal women prior, and from these unions, demigods were born. Each wanted a demigod of their seed to be the ruler of their earthly kingdom. It was decided that the demigods would fight each other for supremacy, the winner would become Pharaoh of the newly formed Egypt."
"You think I don't know this story?" Atemu rolled his eyes. "All Egyptian children know that story. I even know how it ends. A demigod born of Atum, God of Creation, claimed victory over all others and was named Pharaoh. That man was my ancestor, and handed the throne down the family line until it has now arrived to me."
"That's only a small piece of the story." Bakura hissed, a crazed gleam in his eyes. "No wonder Egyptian children grow up so stupid these days. I have ties back to the age before Egypt as well. For my ancestor was made from the seed of Set, and set his eyes on the throne as well." He coughed. "He cut through a hundred demigods, walking the entire planet in search of them. And it wasn't enough to kill them. He robbed them of their powers first. With each kill, he grew stronger. The gods were so impressed by him, they wondered if he might be allowed into the pantheon. Nobody was going to stop him. The throne was his."
"Well, that's funny." Atemu said, playing along. "You'd think our positions would be reversed right now-"
"I'm getting to that!" Bakura barked, spittle flying everywhere. "But...but Atum...he could not stand being beaten by Set. He would not have it. As my ancestor beared down on the last few remaining demigods, Atum set the events in motion that led to your ancestor finding the Blade of Heliopolis." He grimaced. "With that blade at his side, no being with so much as a drop of mortal blood could stand against him."
"Sounds like a nice sword." Atemu mocked, smiling.
"Don't you get it!" Bakura yelled, now pulling on the chains. "He cheated! Your ancestor, he cheated! The throne belonged to my family, my ancestor had the rightful claim to it! Atum knew it, and intervened! It would have been my ancestor on the throne! It would have been me!"
"Is this a long story?" Atemu asked casually, looking down at the fingernails of his right hand.
"With that blade, Atum's favored son struck down the rightful Pharaoh." Bakura said bitterly. "Robbed him of all the power my ancestor had taken from those he had defeated, sacrificed it to the pantheon in exchange for good fortune for Egypt. Then he beat the god out of my ancestor, rendered him a pure mortal." He huffed a big breath. "But he would not kill him. No. He chose to instead drive him to insanity first. He chose to break him. My ancestor was told that he would be allowed to die only after he lay broken before the false Pharaoh, kiss his feet, acknowledge that he was the true and rightful Pharaoh and then beg for death. The False Pharaoh captured my ancestor's wife, tortured her to insanity right in front of him. Every day he was put through unimaginable pain each day concluding with the opportunity to break and end it." Bakura paused, swallowing hard. "My ancestor lived for another sixty years after his capture and never broke. He didn't even bend. He died with his dignity and honor, refusing to waver from what he knew to be the truth."
"That's too bad." Atemu said absentmindedly. "Now, if that's your concern, don't worry, you won't be alive anywhere near sixty years from now."
"Don't promise what you can't deliver." Bakura spat. "Why am I even still alive if you intend to kill me?"
"That's easy." Atemu stepped toward the door. "You've got a hideout with a mountain of gold and jewels, right? Well, I want it, and you're going to tell me where I can find it."
Bakura sneered. "You think you can break me? As I just explained, I have a lot to live up to in terms of withstanding pain, and I don't intend to disappoint my ancestors."
"Everyone has their limit." Atemu said, waving his hand toward his prisoner. "Some people just don't know it. Don't worry, you'll know what true pain is first thing in the morning when my interrogators go to work on you. You'll be begging to give up your hideout in three days tops." He looked back at his prisoner. "Then, then you can die, and trust me by then death will be a dream."
"It's really a shame I had to be unconscious when you were dragging me through the palace." Bakura interrupted. "I mean...these are the royal prison rooms, aren't they?" He looked around at the blank walls with his eyeballs, head still mostly locked in place. "I would have liked to have gotten a good look at my new palace for the first time in person."
"I wouldn't worry about this palace, Thief King." Atemu said simply, grabbing the door handle. "The only time you'll be seeing the outside of this room is if I decide to hold a public execution. Anything else you'd like to say? It really is past my bedtime."
"Yeah." Bakura grunted. "I need to pee."
Atemu shrugged, opening the door, looking down at the ground right in front of Bakura. "Go right ahead." With that, he slipped out of the chamber, shutting the brass door behind him.
