Age of Majesty

Chapter 8

The tournament ended and a man named Gahiji was declared winner, but since Malik had disappeared the whole plan had been a waste. And it was something that was so completely out of their control it had Atemu seething for days, but not as much as he had grieved during this time.

The Rod remained silent the entire time. It has been weeks now. Seto was most assuredly dead, and there was really no one Atemu was willing to replace him with. He had nightmares of what might have happened to Seto, his last moments, surely alone and abandoned. All because he chose Mahaado…

In the end he merely dismissed Mahaado. It was not entirely the priest's fault. Punishment was necessary, but Atemu felt lenient again, if only because he felt himself to be more in the wrong than Mahaado. He should have waited a while. Waited until Seto was better, more able to defend himself. If only he had…

His heart felt so heavy. How do people move on when something like this happens? He remembered the feeling of loss when his father died, but that was when he had been just a boy, with little power over things. As Pharaoh he should have been able to do something. He should have been able to save those he loved. After all, why else would people want to be King, if not for the power to do what matters?

But life had to go on. He was the Pharaoh of a great kingdom. He could not afford to grieve.

oO

" I can walk!" Adjo cried delightedly, though his gait was nowhere near that of even High Priest Seto. " Look Wati! I can walk!"

Bakura felt like he was the parent of a toddler taking his first baby steps. It was more of the fear of falling than the delight though. He was ready to leap in at any minute if Adjo even began to wobble, which he did without fail.

" I was going to make it." Adjo pouted.

" You were getting tired." Bakura replied. " You still need to recover some strength."

" Why is my walking bad if I only hit my head?" The blue-eyed beauty complained. " I only hit my head. Why am I so tired?"

" Well," Bakura eased the boy into a seat, " I'm not a doctor, but your body might get tired from all that healing."

" You mean all the energy goes to my head?"

" I guess." Bakura replied after a pause. " How's your head, by the way?"

" Feels light." Adjo tilted his head. " Full of air."

" Hn." Bakura grunted. " Don't shake it."

" I know."

Adjo still needed a bandage around his head, but the wound was recovering nicely. He would need a few more days for the stitches to be taken out though, since the outside had not completely healed. The bandage made him look more vulnerable, as if Bakura needed any more reminders. But Adjo's bright smile did much to relieve Bakura. At least that little experiment with walking did not dampen his spirits.

Adjo kept wanting to hear about his past, which is not something strange, except Bakura had to constantly make up stories. Bakura was used to making up stories to save his skin, but those were not the type of stories fit for Adjo's ears or his situation. Luckily, Adjo still slept a lot, so Bakura had a lot of time to study him and come up with something in advance. And to ponder on where to go next.

Perhaps he could look for a new life with Adjo, one that he kept telling Adjo they had. He could leave behind the life of robbery and intrigue. And Adjo would be given a new chance. Granted, life on the road was no luxury, but the palace had its own horrors that Seto might have wished to avoid. It would be a new chance. A clean slate.

He found he wanted that. He never really considered it before, but with Adjo it suddenly became possible, and he found he wanted it. He was tired of sneaking around and risking his neck for something so trivial as gold. He was tired of running away from guards, the endless fight to make something out of himself when it was impossible. He could use what he stole before, his life before, and build something far grander for himself and Adjo. They would live comfortably, in relative obscurity, which is not so bad.

Not bad at all.

But what kind of life could they lead? Bakura was not familiar with any honest trade. What could he do to provide for Adjo?

In the end, it was Adjo who provided the answer.

" I can write?" Adjo frowned at him when he learned this. " Where did I learn how to write, if you do not?"

Bakura could only read, and the statement suddenly gave him an idea. As long as Seto does not enter the palace or capital he should be safe.

" How about you become a scribe?" Bakura asked. " We're pretty good with money now, but you know it doesn't grow by itself."

" I know how to write?" Adjo was doubtful.

" Here." Bakura gave him a piece of papyrus and some ink. " Write down your name."

'Adjo' appeared neatly and beautifully on the paper. Scribe would do. Very well.

" I know how to write?" Adjo was amazed. " How?"

" Trust me." Bakura smiled at him. " You were always the smarter of the two of us, hehe."

Adjo frowned, clearly unhappy with that notion. Bakura admitted to himself wryly that he was touched.

" Don't worry." He assured Adjo. " We'll be okay. Just concentrate on getting better, and trust me on this."

It was not hard to ask from Adjo.

oO

Seto's death introduced a problem far greater than mere heartbreak. With the most unstoppable advisor out of the way, the neighboring countries were beginning to assemble forces. And while Atemu was in no mood to deal with such matters, the danger was real.

" They will not be so overly bold," Ishizu commented, " Egypt is still powerful and has resources and technology they cannot hope to match."

But the assurance of victory was gone. Cunning always won against might, and Seto's strategies were nothing if not that. He was the master of both the war on a large scale and the battlefield itself. His most famous war lasted two days against the invaders from the north, back when Atemu's father had been alive. It was still sung of in the military because of its brilliance. And after that battle High Priest Seto instantly became famous throughout the land and its neighboring lands. A few short tests from the barbarians, and no one dared to face Seto's cunning again. It was a happy moment for all enemies of Egypt when High Priest Seto died.

" We will make do." Kalim replied, in a random moment of wisdom. " The gods will not forsake us like this. If Seto had been a gift we ought to treasure, we did not fail in that. For every loss there is a gain."

Moments like these were the reasons why Kalim was still High Priest.

" We first must make sure they do not unite against us." One of the advisors pointed out. " If they decide to form an alliance for a common goal, we might not be assured of a clean victory."

" I would recommend sending spies." Said another. " One to fuel anger at each other. They will start fighting amongst themselves."

Would you do that? Atemu asked Seto in his mind. Would you send spies? In his mind he imagined heading to Seto's quarters and telling him about the meeting, as he had so often done because Seto had so often been sick. He imagined Seto's young face, weary with illness, but eyes bright with concentration as he listened to every word. He knew Seto well, or at least, how his mind turned politically. In his memories Seto had sometimes burst out laughing in mirth, sometimes he frowned, sometimes he even lost his temper in front of Atemu. But this time in his mind's eye he only saw a frozen image of Seto thinking impassively, the events afterwards delayed by Atemu's own grief and the subconscious panic losing his cousin had caused. What will they do without Seto?

Then he suddenly remembered that far off time, the reason he was delving into memories anyway, when Seto had insisted Atemu listen to what he had to say. The Pharaoh had tried to stop him because it was too painful, but Seto had angrily urged him to allow the priest to speak.

" I can die, my Pharaoh!" He had cried, " It was real since the day I was born. And I will die before you, and when I do you can no longer use me as a security blanket!" Such were his words, because Seto was angry as well, just as Atemu had been. Angry, anguished, knowing that he cannot serve his lord as long as he had to because the gods forbid it. " If I die the neighboring kingdoms are certain to attack, unless you find another prodigy. You have to find another prodigy!"

That was how the argument had been. Atemu refused to find another prodigy, Seto insisted he did. Atemu had Seto's interests at heart—he knew that competition of minds will wear out Seto faster than any physical exercise. And prodigies exist all throughout Egypt, but mixed with a good heart? He cannot guarantee that, nor was he willing to test Fate and subject Seto to that stress. Seto, on the other hand, knew that he could not last long enough to save Egypt from all Atemu has to face, and they had quarreled bitterly in front of the whole palace. In the end Atemu won. Atemu was Pharaoh—he did what he pleased.

And Seto had bitterly continued, " Very well. But if I die they are certain to attack. They will attack together, there is nothing you can do about that."

" Well pray tell," Atemu had answered angrily, " What is your suggestion for that?"

Seto had been silent for a while. " Use the Nile."

" No." Atemu suddenly broke into the conversation. " We shall send no spies. It will not work."

His advisors fell silent.

" The mother Nile." Atemu muttered. Then, he looked at his advisors.

" Prepare ships."

oO

Seto recovered nicely as Adjo. Bakura could feel him growing stronger, especially at night when he would hold Adjo in his arms as the boy slept. The life in his body seemed to grow instead of wane as it had, and though Adjo slept deeply because of his wound, it was not the sleep that mirrored death.

A peace seemed to have come over Bakura as well. His lust for Seto did not diminish, but it had calmed enough that his desire to simply protect the beauty was far stronger. He did not want to hurt Adjo, and Adjo's new innocence, if it was in fact new, was precious enough that Bakura did not want to kill it. It was enough that he could hold Seto, who never questioned but instead seemed to like it a lot.

Adjo was his treasure.

He was happy. Adjo seemed to be too. He did not mind using his writing skills to provide for them, in fact he seemed to really like the idea of pleasing Bakura. And the work as a scribe at a lord's court, while not nearly as mentally challenging as his old work, was free from pressure since it was so terribly easy for Adjo, and they had plenty of time during the evenings to wander around town together, even though Adjo could not handle the physical exertion for long.

Their happiness reached a slight obstacle when in the town square Bakura spotted Gahiji.

Gahiji would have no trouble recognizing Adjo. Bakura cursed the fact that he had never thought to dye Seto's hair or something. Luckily, no one looks at scribes, but should Gahiji glance over he might actually see Adjo in the group. And with all of Egypt and Africa aware that the High Priest Seto is missing, if not dead, Adjo would be captured for sure. Along with Bakura. The former thief quickly covered his face with his hood so Gahiji would not see him. Luckily, the oaf did not, and probably would not recognize him even if he did. But it was a close call.

How would Seto look with his hair black? That would be too small of a change though. And in fact, with Seto's health literally blooming in front of his eyes, it is possible that even his past associates would not recognize Seto now. Adjo is much more fair, his cheeks red and plumping slightly with vitality. Maybe he is not actually so recognizable. But Gahiji would know Seto was still alive. The oaf knew what really happened when Seto disappeared. They will have to be careful.

He prayed Gahiji was just passing by the town on his way home. Surely, if the gods had no mercy on him, they would have mercy on Seto. But the odds of Gahiji being invited into the lord's court was too great. Bakura thought quickly. Surely he could withdraw Seto for a while. Claim that he was sick. The lord would not even notice. With this in mind, he started headed there.

Adjo was just heading out, the day's work done. He did a double-take when he saw Bakura, but smiled brightly.

" Wati!" He called loudly. Bakura's instincts suddenly churned when he realized the cry rang out, loud and free like a child's, but most of all, loud. It caught the attention of several scribes, who gave him a funny look but then appeared to go back to their own businesses.

" Adjo." He said fondly to him, storing the thought to remind Seto not to call him that so loudly for later.

" I was heading home," Adjo glanced up at the sky, " I wasn't late."

" I know." Bakura summoned a smile for him. There was no need to worry him needlessly. " Come. I thought I'll walk you home today."

" Alright." Adjo was happy with that notion. His eyes narrowed slightly in skepticism, but then he dropped it. Why would he care, after all? He trusted Bakura.

I won't let them take him. Bakura thought, as he took Seto's thin arm. He is happy, and by the gods, so am I. I won't let anyone hurt him, or steal him from me. His heart clenched. Adjo was his.

They headed out into the streets toward home. From a distance, Kisara watched, her eyes flashing in insight.