Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! It belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

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Chapter 5

Shouts of many angry men bounced around the circular room. The men in this room were all dressed in similar white clothing and all seemed to be losing their hair. Some of the men were standing, shaking their hands or fists. In the centre of the room dressed in the same white clothing as all of the others, was the Emperor. He eyed the senators as they vocalised their anger, he had known that they would not be happy but then the Senate was nothing these days, they were just angry, old man that shouted for no sound reason.

"Kidnapping the Prince is an act of war!" A man shouted.

"The Egyptians are hardly a threat." The Emperor replied, in a bored voice, "We want their land and this is a way to force them to submit."

"But the Egyptians are in a position to make allies!" Another man shouted, "They are well liked in the East, especially with the Partians."

The Emperor rolled his eyes, these idiots hadn't thought through this as he had.

"We can use the boy as a bargaining chip. Should the Egyptians even get talking to other factions then we kill the boy. They will want to rescue their Prince so will do anything to make sure we do not kill him."

There were mummers from members of the Senate as this was a very good point. With the Senators saying no more the Emperor took his opportunity to continue telling the Senate what they would do.

"We will show the boy our might, out power and what happens to our enemies. Then, he will tell his people to submit to us." The Emperor stood; he looked around daring someone to speak against him.

No one said a word, for a group of men who loved to voice their opinions they stayed unnaturally quiet. They all seemed to scared to speak, weary of the consequence should what they say not please the emperor. The Emperor stood, gave the senate one last smug but leaving the room. As he walked down the corridor, he could not help but feel rather proud of himself. Although at first he had not like the idea of stealing the Prince of Egypt it was turning out to be rather fortunate. The Egyptians would submit that he was sure of.

Once he had been known as the Great Pharaoh, but now he was known as the Pharaoh of was consumed by grief. He was slumped in his throne; his cheeks were glistening from tears which continued to fall. The people around the King stood in silence; all were sharing some of the grief of their King. The Prince was loved by all people and his absence was a crushing blow for them. But they were trying to not let their grief consume them as they were desperately trying to find a way to get the Prince back.

"My King, we must send the troops! Show them what happens when you cross us." Aknadin cried.

There was no response from the Pharaoh; he just stared at his lap.

"There would be no point in that." Shimon said, eventually, "We have nothing to stand up to them."

"Well, we must do something!" Aknadin snapped.

If he was honest Aknadin didn't care about the fate of the Prince, he was the kind of person who enjoys watching other people suffer. So, in his mind the Romans had made them suffer so it was time to do the same to them. But the people in this room, even his brother, seemed to only care about one person. The Prince was only a boy; there were more important people to worry about rather than just some boy. Aknadin glared at his elder brother, he was just mopping and not doing anything! If he were a real Pharaoh he would not be concerned with the loss of a boy. But alas, his brother was the Pharaoh albeit not a very good one.

"We will do something!" Shimon said, determination in his voice, "We shall not give in, we shall get our Prince back."

Shimon looked at the Pharaoh, hoping that his words may have provoked some sort of reaction from him. But it did not, if anything the King looked even gloomier. Feeling the weights of the people around him staring at him, Aknamkanon rose to his feet and left the room without making eye contact with anybody. As he walked down the many corridors of the palace, more tears fell from his eyes. How had he let this happen, his only son could be dead for all he knew. He was struggling to come to terms with it; he knew that there was no way in which they could take on the Romans. The Romans were known to be formidable fighters; anyone to take them on had always failed. But he could not just let his son go, he was his son. There had to be something that they could do. He found himself outside of his son's room. Opening the door, he found that his son's room was exactly the way he had left it. It was as though his son had simply left the room and was coming back. The bed was made but it was crumpled in place where his son had been lying. Parchment was on the bed as well, indicating that his son would lie on the bed to read. On the desk was a piece of parchment which was half written on. Aknamkanon could not stop his tears flowing as he moved out on to the balcony. The view that his son had from the balcony was impressive. Not only could you see the whole city but in the distance you could just about see the sea. More tears fell as he remembered watching the boat sail away with his son a captive on it. Unseen by anyone Aknamkanon slumped into a heap on the floor and wept.

Aknadin was pacing, he had tried to find his elder brother to convince him to send the armies but he had had no luck. Instead he had found a balcony and began to pace. There had to be some way to do something. He had heard from some of his associates of a book, a book full of spells. The spells were supposed to be very powerful. Naturally, he had sent his associates to find it. If they could then they were sure to be able to do something about those Romans. It was at that point in which he felt the gaze of somebody upon him. A hooded individual was standing in the archway, waiting to be called upon. Aknadin approached him, eagerness in his eyes.

"You found it?"

"Yes." The Hooded man replied, pulling out from under his clock an old book with a golden eye on it.

Aknadin snatched the book away, before rifling through the pages. He was searching for anything powerful. It was even he was halfway through the book that he found something, and it was sure to work. This was what they had been looking for. Without saying a word to his associate Aknadin hurried off the balcony. He resumed his search for his elder brother, this time he would not give up. He eventually found the Pharaoh seated in the Prince's room. The Pharaoh was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He was just staring at the room.

"Brother, I have found a book. A book which will help us defeat the Romans." Aknadin said.

"What about my son?" Aknamkanon replied, glaring at his brother.

"I'm sorry?"

"What about my son!" Aknamkanon had got to his feet, his face showed a look of rage, "All this time you have never mentioned my son; you want to destroy the Romans but what about my son! You have never said that you wanted to get my son back."

"Well, by doing one we help the other so that's irrelevant."

"You have a son! What would you do in my place!" Aknamkanon yelled, pointing a finger at Aknadin.

Aknadin ignored his brother's yell, "A found a book and-"

"How is a damned book going to help!" Aknamkanon had started pacing.

"It contains spells, one of which I think will help us defeat them."

"And save my son?"

"It will defeat the Romans."

Aknamkanon strolled out of the room without a word to his brother; he knew that his brother did not care about much but the fact that he was not bothered by the fate of his nephew disgusted him. Back in the Prince's room Aknadin was staring at the book once more. Well, he hadn't got his brother's permission to go ahead but at the same time the Pharaoh hadn't said not to. Smirking, Akandin left the room. There was work to be done.

The sunlight barely lit the stone room, so the room remained rather dark and unpleasant. There was a boy lying on the floor, he stirred slightly as the sunlight disturbed his sleep. The boy's face had dried blood around his nose and from the corner of his lip. His once splendid tunic had been dirtied. On the back the tunic was ripped and blood clung to the fabric from wounds which had been inflicted on the boy's back. Atem moved as he woke, rolling on to his back slightly. A hiss of pain escaped from his lips as he rolled and disturbed the injuries on his back. Getting to his feet, Atem moved to the barred window. He looked out to the bustling streets of Rome. He watched the people potter around and he could not help but wonder, how in the world would he get out of here?

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