I'm alive! Finishing episode five took much longer than I anticipated, but now it's done. We're officially starting the "adult" section and the time of the plot of Kingdom In The Sand begins!
Episode Four Part One: Double Vision
"There's a road that will lead you to good or to greed through the power your wishing commands!"
- "Arabian Nights" from Aladdin 2019
When the sun illuminated the palace of Kemet with the first light of the dawn, not much had changed. The same alabaster walls were turned pink and gold with the morning light. The same sun dissipated the morning mist that condensed in droplets on the soft grass, stately fruit trees, beautiful flowers, and ripe vegetables within the walled garden. The small granary the prince and his friends had built on a warm harvest night still cast a shadow across the grass, as solid and sure as it had been when it had first been built, the little handprints of its five-year-old builders fossilized into the brick. The same opulent halls were aglow with torchlight and the glow of the sun.
However, there were details that served as little hints at just how much time had passed. The murals on the walls had faded with the years, and new ones had been painted. The servants going about with their morning chores were now ten years older, as were the guards standing at their posts.
By far the biggest change was Prince Atem's farm.
The humble bean patch the prince had sown so long ago was now an elaborate garden, growing not only beans but heads of lettuce, onions, garlic, castor, and lentils. A short stone wall, small enough for an enterprising adult to climb over but high enough to deter pests, now surrounded it. The different sections were separated by narrow stone walkways that allowed whoever tended to the garden to walk freely in between sections without stepping on any plants, and a more elaborate canal system, of mud brick like the path, provided the majority of the water the farm needed. The well had been outfitted with a crank mechanism Atem and Bakura had constructed themselves, to allow them - mostly the small-bodied Atem - to more easily draw water up from it.
Isis awoke at first light as she had been taught, whispering her morning prayer, dressing, brushing her long black hair, debating whether she should veil it or if Atem's plan of the day would only end up ruining the veil, forgoing the veil today, and carefully outlining her eyes with kohl. She ensured the Millennium Necklace, the heirloom of her family and one of the seven treasures of Kemet, was securely clasped around her neck, before pronouncing her morning routine complete and leaving her room.
She spent her morning meditating in communication with her ka, then reading in the library.
"Good morning, Isis."
Isis looked up from her scroll to find Kisara standing there, holding a scroll of her own in her pale hands.
Kisara had changed much in the intervening years since her arrival at the palace. The shy, tiny, starving girl condemned to a life of slavery had blossomed into a tall, slender young woman, her short, choppy hair lengthening into a hip-length waterfall of white, these days often bound up in a ponytail and adorned with a lapis circlet that matched her eyes. She wore a simple dress today, undecorated apart from a few accents of turquoise, and scarab earrings.
The jewelry was Kisara's own way of expressing her fortunate station. Slaves never wore jewelry of any kind. It was, Isis suspected, a deliberate difference, enacted by slave owners to differentiate captive from free. While Kisara almost never wore anything more opulent than an undecorated linen dress, often one she had woven herself, her choice to wear jewelry was an announcement to the world that she was a priestess, student of the Pharaoh, and a free woman.
"Good morning, Kisara," Isis greeted. "What are you reading?"
"I received this from Lord Karim. It's a report of all villages who have been reported as abandoned or attacked by scout forces."
"Are you still looking for the village of the boy who rescued you?"
"I can't not try, Isis. Atem insisted the gods had told him I would find him and I will not stop looking until I do."
"It's a wonder that the gods visited him so young, and about something so specific."
"Is it any more incredible than anything that Atem has said or done?"
"You're right, I suppose. Where is Atem, by the way?"
"Seth said he was late going back to his room last night. Writing in his letters to himself again. Of course, Seth was more irritated that he didn't seem interested in his challenge to an archery competition."
Isis shook her head. Seth was nowhere near as intolerably arrogant as he had been when he'd met them at six, but he had a competitive streak the length of the Nile, and aside from Kisara Atem was one of his favorite targets to challenge. "Then I was right to assume Atem has some activity planned for us today?"
Kisara nodded. "I was wondering, though… have you noticed Atem acting… strange lately?"
"Define strange, Kisara," Isis remarked. "You're talking about a prince who decides out of the blue to start climbing palace roofs and planting farms. Your surrogate brother, whom not even Lord Aknadin or the Millennium Necklace can predict what he'll do next."
"He seems scared of something. He's been writing in his letters to himself more frequently, training more earnestly, adding more advancements to his farm - it's almost as if he's preparing for something." Kisara frowned. "And I doubt it's anything good. He seems so stressed now. Seth and I said hello to him two nights ago, and he was so frightened he just about fainted."
"Atem has his ups and downs," Isis pointed out. Which was true. Atem, every so often, seemed to have attacks of paranoia and depression that persisted for several months, during which he would throw himself into his farm, letters, and training with renewed zeal while at the same time losing interest in all of the zany, admittedly fun activities he roped them into enthusiastically just weeks previously.
Isis had been troubled by these episodes, but since they always ended as quickly as they came, she had tried not to think about it.
Strangely, the symptoms always seemed to manifest just before, during, and after the prince's birthday. While each of his birthdays was almost a religious festival, he always seemed halfhearted in his participation. Pensive. Fearful. And then the period of depression would start.
"This one seems worse, Isis," Kisara said, biting her lip. "Not like the previous attacks. Whatever he's so paranoid about every year, it's closer than ever."
"Is it pressure, perhaps? He does come of age this year after all."
Kisara bit her lip. "Possibly."
Then a voice shouting, "Hey!" made Isis's heart stop.
"Are you two done gossiping or should I leave you alone?"
"Seth," Isis said with a sigh, relaxing.
"Don't scare us like that!" Kisara said reproachfully, rolling up her scroll.
"It's not my fault you two are jumpier than antelope after dark," Seth huffed. "What are you talking about, or is it a woman thing?"
"It's about Atem, Seth," Isis said.
"What about him?"
"He's been acting strangely lately, haven't you noticed?"
"I'll say. He's been so sullen lately it's annoying, and that's when he isn't jumping at his own shadow," Seth huffed. "Remember when you and I bid him good night two days ago? He almost passed out."
"I remember, Seth, that's why I'm talking to Isis about it."
"Isn't he always gloomy around his birthday, though? I'd hate to agree with Bakura on anything, but he said the day after Atem's last birthday that he attends his own birthday party looking like he's walking to his execution."
Kisara cleared her throat. "That was in poor taste, Seth."
"I didn't say it, Bakura did," Seth defended himself.
"He is always depressed on and after his birthday, Seth, but it's been five months since Atem's last birthday, and by that time, he's usually back in high spirits. Something is really bothering him this year."
"What could be bothering him? He's the prince of Kemet! The son of Ra incarnated!"
"I suggested it's because he's coming of age. He never seemed fond of the idea of becoming Pharaoh. He was inconsolable when Lord Aknamkanon died," Isis said, biting her lip.
Kisara covered her face with her hands, and Seth frowned, taking a very special interest in the tabletop in front of him.
That had been a terrible day for all of them. Atem might have been their friend and the loudest voice in their defense, but it was Lord Aknamkanon who had allowed them a home at the palace at all. Kisara had wept openly, as had Isis, Seth stormed around the palace getting into arguments with all the healers who tried and failed to save the beloved old king, and Bakura, for once, had his usual teasing streak disappear, shutting himself in his room and only coming out for the funerary procession, and only because Isis and the others had dragged him there.
But Atem had taken it the worst of all. For weeks he had been in denial at how fast Lord Aknamkanon's health had been declining. He visited every day, spending hours kneeling by his father's bedside, telling him all the things they would do once he recovered, telling him everything that was happening within the court, and insisting that it wasn't time for him to leave yet.
But each visit he had left in lower spirits, and Isis knew full well that he knew that there would be no recovery. Lord Aknamkanon was simply too far gone.
She was fifteen when Lord Aknamkanon had succumbed to the terrible illness that had left him bedridden for the better half of a year, but Atem had only been twelve. The night of the old Pharaoh's death, Isis had passed by the old Pharaoh's room, only to hear crying. She had peered in to find Atem kneeling next to Aknamkanon's bed, squeezing the old man's wrinkled hand and sobbing.
"You can't go! I'm not ready!" Atem had wailed. "I can't be Pharaoh, not yet! Father…" Atem had cradled Aknamkanon's hand, pressing it to his face as if pretending that the old king had just caressed his cheek the way he would when the prince was small. "Father, you can't die!"
Atem had projected a front of strength during all public appearances he had to make during the funerary proceedings. That facade, however, crumbled behind closed doors. One only had to mention Aknamkanon, or Atem's impending coronation when he came of age at fifteen, to prompt him to look away or put his face into his hands and cry. That had been the beginning of the longest one of Atem's "attacks" of sullenness besides the current one, four months of the prince spending all his time outside regency meetings and public appearances locked in his room, writing with feverish abandon in his special scrolls, his "letters to himself".
Slowly, Atem seemed to recover his usual brightness of demeanor, but even at his most enthusiastic, he wasn't as wild as he used to be, and mentioning the late Pharaoh was still guaranteed to dampen his spirits.
"Where is he, by the way? Atem? Did you see him by chance, Seth?" Kisara asked, changing the subject away from Aknamkanon, which Isis was grateful for.
"I thought he was working on that farm of his, but I didn't see him out there," Seth said. "I checked. I was going to ask you girls if you had seen him."
"We haven't seen him either. Or Bakura, for that matter."
Isis sighed. "How much do you want to bet they're getting into trouble?"
"Two of my bracelets that they broke something again."
"You talk as if they are still five," Isis sighed. After a moment, she smiled slightly, mischievous. "I bet four gold pieces they're hiding out somewhere because they broke something and they're avoiding a scolding."
"Hypocrite," Seth muttered.
"Do you accept?"
"Fine. Six gold says Atem is doing some kind of unprincely stunt that's guaranteed to give anyone on the regency who witnesses it an aneurysm. With or without breaking something. Seven if Bakura's also in on it, which you know as well as I do that he is."
"Deal."
Seth was half right. Atem was doing something that he knew the regency would disapprove of, but Bakura wasn't involved. At least, not initially.
He had woken up before first light, all the better to ensure this plan went off without a problem.
It occurred to him a few days ago that, as much as he had prepared for survival of his doom flags, there was one potential problem he had yet to address.
That is, if he ever found himself in a situation where he needed to make a quick escape from the palace. He didn't remember that ever happening in the game, but Yugi hadn't played all of the routes; how was he to know he hadn't missed something?
The best thing was to prepare himself for anything that remotely resembled a doom flag. That was what he had sworn at five years old. That he would survive. That he would get a happy ending.
So, a quick escape was exactly what he was trying today. He had practice climbing up onto the castle roof now, after years of doing it. He knew the slopes and peaks of the palace rooftop as well as he knew his own room.
He just had to get over the wall. Just to see if he could do it.
That led him to where he was now, crouched in a shadowy valley of the rooftop, watching the sun rise.
My home really is a beautiful place.
The glimpses he'd gotten of it in his previous life, through the game, had painted Kemet as a barren place, a vast lonely desert.
'In the scorching sand and winds of Kemet, a shining white palace rises. A spark of beauty in this harsh land. An oasis where love can blossom'. That was what the title sequence of Kingdom In The Sand said.
Sure, it wasn't lush with greenery, but the desert had its own beauty.
He shook his head. Focus, Atem.
Slowly, he crept up out of the valley in the roof, trying to stay low, before ducking under a section of roof that jutted outward.
There's a tower there I can hide behind. And then from there it should be a straight path to the wall. I just have to get up, and over.
He slipped out from under that section of roof, crawling toward the tower and ducking behind it, watching the guards pass by below. It was still early enough that no one would miss him, but he had to hurry if he was going to test this route of escape and still be back inside before someone noticed he was gone.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something, but when he turned, he couldn't see anything.
As soon as the guards turned around the corner, he took a deep breath and stood. The hardest part of his plan was just ahead of him: a thin lip of rooftop that protruded out toward one of the high branches of a sturdy acacia tree whose branches spread out over the palace garden wall. With luck, he could use the tree as a bridge from the roof to the other side.
Slowly, trying to keep his balance, Atem edged out onto that thin stretch of roof, reaching for the closest branch. Grasping it, he edged his weight off the roof, hoping to swing up onto the branch.
The branch, however, bent and buckled, causing him to yelp and wrap his legs around the branch. The result was that he was now hanging upside-down by his hands and knees from the swaying tree branch that was creaking as if it would break any moment and shedding a downpour of leaves, in a position not remotely stealthy at all.
His heart thudded and his vision blurred when he saw how far away the ground was. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to try this alone…
A faint rustle in the tree he was hanging from startled him. He clung tighter to the tree branch, not wanting to risk letting go and breaking the branch, but also not wanting to confront whoever else was in the tree with him with both his hands occupied holding him up.
"Who's there?" he whispered. "Show yourself!"
Only the wind answered.
"I'm warning you… if you attack me… there are guards all around us. One sound, and they'll come for me," Atem warned.
Atem squinted. In the darkness, he thought he saw an eye…
A shadow leapt at him without warning, prompting him to scream and let go of the tree.
However, a hand shot out and grabbed him by the back of his tunic, pulling him back up, so he was face to face with Bakura, the Pharaoh's own student and surrogate son.
"I've heard of treed cats but treed princes? That's a new one!"
Atem, still dangling in the air, held up only by his brother's hand gripping his collar, folded his arms and pouted. "Ra and Hathor, Bakura, don't do that! I thought you were an intruder!"
"If this is how you deal with an assassin, I fear for Kemet's future," Bakura said dryly. "Honestly, I was following you all the way across the roof, for Ra's sake!"
"The whole time? How did I not see you?!"
"I was trying not to draw attention. Something you clearly need help with."
"Just let go of me, Bakura," Atem grumbled.
"Fine," Bakura said with a smirk, before letting go of Atem and letting him drop to the grass.
"Ow!" Atem glared up at the silver-haired priest, who quickly jumped down from the tree next to him.
"Hey, you didn't say, 'help me down from the tree, Bakura,' you just said, 'let go of me'. Quite rudely, actually. I was only doing exactly what you asked."
"It was implied," Atem huffed, nursing his scraped palms and bruised knees.
"What were you doing climbing all over the roof at sunrise anyway?" Bakura asked. "Some bizarre form of early-morning exercise?"
"I was trying to find a discreet way over the wall without alerting the guards!" Atem replied, gesturing toward the top of the wall.
"Let me guess: just to see if you could?" Bakura asked flatly.
"Yes!" Atem lied sharply, not wanting to breathe a word about his doom flags to his brother.
"Well, with that escape plan, you'll be lucky if you make it over the wall. You went through the window, right? Well, that happens to be the oldest method of escape in the history of escapes. If you wanted to steal away in the middle of the night, I can show you the right way to do it."
"And what is that?" Atem asked, still irritated but now genuinely curious. He and Bakura had explored the palace top to bottom as children, but Bakura was prone to going off on expeditions by himself. Had the young priest found something Atem had missed?
"Follow me," Bakura said with a smirk.
Atem followed his brother back inside the palace, and down a series of corridors, until they reached the hallway that led to the servants' quarters on one side and an empty training room on the other.
"What's so secret about this place?" Atem asked. "That's the servants' quarters, and over there is a magic training room that I don't think we even use."
"Things are not what they appear, my little prince," Bakura replied with an air of mystery in his voice. He walked over to an empty torch-holder and pulled on it, causing the torch-holder to slide down a little bit. With a rumble, a small hole opened up in the wall. Bakura, grinning, crawled through the hole, and disappeared.
"Hey, wait!" Atem called after him, before quickly grabbing a torch from another torch holder and crawling into the dark space.
To his surprise, he was almost immediately able to stand up straight again. He could see the small square hole in the wall behind him, but ahead of him was a slightly cramped but still full-sized hallway, lacking in the decoration and smooth makeup of the rest of the palace walls but rather being rough-hewn stone, like a cave.
"Hey! Watch where you're shining that thing!" Bakura said sharply, flinching away as Atem shone the torch around.
"Oh, sorry!" Atem replied, taking a step back.
Bakura took a deep breath and continued. "This was a secret passage dug out by the old tomb builders, Abraxas told me. They used it to enter and leave the palace discreetly while the tombs were being constructed."
"The ones who were exiled after being accused of utilizing their knowledge of the tombs' construction to steal from them?"
"Yeah, those people," Bakura said. "See the walls?"
Atem shone his torch on the stone, revealing old, but still visible symbols, both carved and painted.
"This looks like thieves' code," Bakura said. "Bandits use it, including the gang who took me in before I came here. Higher-class people whom bandits usually target can't read it, meaning thieves could leave hidden messages for each other about traps, the level of guard, and ambush points in plain sight."
"Can you read it, Bakura?"
"Only the most common symbols. The thing about thieves' code is that it's constantly changing, to help avoid non-thieves learning to read it. There are some common signs that always stay the same, but each bandit group, family, or even individual could have different, more personalized ones." He pointed to an ink glyph on the wall. "See that? My bandit group at least used that to mark safe spaces. Escape routes, places to camp, and hidden spots to hide stolen goods."
"They developed an entire language to avoid detection?"
"Thievery isn't exactly welcomed anywhere," Bakura said dryly. "The council was deciding on whether to hang me when you barged in with your idea to let me stay. And it's not really a language so much as a writing system - a shorthand for writing out lengthy messages in Kemetian. Still uses Kemetian alphabet and everything. If a scholar sat down and tried he could probably translate what each glyph means, which is why the symbols are always changing."
Atem frowned. "And the tomb builders used it… so the rumor they were stealing from the very tombs they helped to build is true."
"I can't say why they did it any more than you do. But I do know that there are some groups who don't treat it so much as a means of survival so much as a way of life. It's just what they are. Some people are sculptors, some people are merchants, and some choose to be thieves."
"Were the tomb builders one of those bandit families?"
"I think. There are some glyphs in here that look like children drew them." He pointed lower to the ground, and Atem followed his finger with the light from his torch, finding messier, smaller versions of the glyphs above them. "Anyway, you're not here for an in-depth lesson on thief culture, you're here because you want a discreet escape out of the palace. I can't imagine why, but it's always good to know it's here, right?"
"Bakura… how long have you known this was here?" Atem asked. Something about what he said about the tomb builders nagged at his memory for some reason. A question he'd never had answered, long ago…
"Annoyed I left you out?" Bakura asked with a smirk. "Well, I first stumbled on it when I was eight. Remember that time we were trying to avoid lessons with Aknadin?"
"You mean when you disappeared for five hours after Aknadin found me? Father was going to call a search for you!"
"Well, I was looking for a new spot to hide. I knew Aknadin had found all of my usual hiding places, so I wanted to try something new. I was trying to get the training room door open, knowing full well Aknadin wouldn't expect me to hide from lessons in a training room. But by a twist of fate-" Bakura said dramatically, "I leaned on the torch-holder as I was trying to pull the torch out and extinguish it, to stall him for a little longer. And then this opened up. I thought it was some kind of passage for the servants to use, but then I saw the old symbol for a thief's safe house on the wall just behind the opening. So I decided to keep it to myself."
"How long does this passage go?" Atem asked.
"It branches off in a couple places. One path leads to the underground dueling arena Aknadin is always disappearing to. The other leads into an actual servants' passage to the council's private chamber. There's a little hole in the wall in there that allows you to spy on that room. The third passage is the one you really need to know, because it leads right under the palace wall and comes out in a bandit safe house on the outskirts of the Great City. There's a fourth passage, but it's been caved in since before I found it."
"It leads to a thieves' safe house?" Atem asked with anxiety.
"Relax, it's been abandoned for ages. I've even explored it a couple times, and there's definitely no one living there anymore. But yeah, it does. Why do you think the safe house glyph is scribbled all over the walls every five feet? Because this passage leads to one."
"I guess that makes sense," Atem said. "Thanks for showing it to me, at least."
"Hey, like I said, history with thieves aside, it's good to know that it's here. In case you need it."
"You say you know some of the symbols. You showed me the one for a safe house. Do you know any of the other ones?"
"I don't recognize any of them besides that. Like I told you, apart from a few universal symbols, each thief and bandit group have their own code. Some thieves from other nations might throw in a few symbols from their original language just to make it harder. I wasn't part of this one, so I don't know any of the personalized ones. I've been trying to interpret them based on what I know, but I can't say for sure what any of them mean."
Atem nodded in understanding. "We should head back. It's been a while, and everyone's probably awake now and wondering where we are."
"Probably. The last thing I need is Isis on my case this early. Not to mention, I spent all morning following you, it seems like breakfast is ready, and I'm starving."
As they turned to leave, however, a symbol caught Atem's eye.
In contrast to some of the symbols, which looked much older, near the bottom of the wall, there was a newer symbol.
Cunningly inked on the wall, in the middle of a Kemetian thief's passage, were glyphs of the language from Yugi's home country, glyphs Atem knew as well as he knew Kemetian, glyphs matching those of his surviving doom scrolls.
It matched no writing of his brother's name in any writing system in Kemet.
But the pronunciation was virtually identical: Bakura
"Atem? Are you coming or not? I can't leave this door open or else I'll risk some guard finding it, so hurry up or I'm shutting it with you in there!"
"Coming!" Atem forced out, before hurrying to follow Bakura back through the hole. Bakura pulled the torch-holder again, shutting the passage with another grinding noise.
"What kept you?" Bakura asked as they started walking towards the dining hall.
"I just thought I saw something strange on the wall," Atem said as he reached up to put the torch he had borrowed back. "Have you been drawing on it?"
"No, I've been keeping the glyphs intact so I can translate it, I can't exactly scribble across the whole thing if I want to know what it means, can I?"
"Oh. It might have just been me, then. Some of the glyphs look newer than others."
"Probably because they are. All those glyphs were added onto over time, not all at once. In fact, I bet even after their exile they came back to their old safe houses and added things. I wouldn't be surprised if there are several different code dialects on that one wall. It's why translating them has been such a pain."
"Do you mind if I help?"
"I don't think so. You don't know thieves' code for one. And… something about this feels personal. Like it was meant for me."
Atem nodded. "I understand. It's a part of your history, after all, not mine. I don't want to intrude. Now, we should get back to the dining hall before we-"
"My nephew. Might I ask what you and Priest Bakura were doing out of your rooms so early in the morning? One of my guards told me a very interesting story about you two sneaking about on the roof."
Atem and Bakura both froze as they saw Aknadin exiting the door that led down to the magic duel chamber (he seemed to spend more and more time down there these days), holding the Millennium Tome in his hands.
"-Before we get in trouble," Atem muttered.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"-Absolutely outrageous behavior, from the both of you! I expected as much from a former thief-" Aknadin glared at Bakura, who, rather than look away, held his gaze until the old Eye-Bearer was forced to look away himself. "-But, Nephew, no prince should have any excuse to go climbing the palace roof at dawn! Your station forbids it! You ought to know better!"
"Uncle, I-" Atem began.
Bakura elbowed the prince. Aknadin was not in a negotiating mood, and Bakura had not forgotten the almost threatening way Aknadin had behaved towards Atem in the past.
Yeah, Aknadin loathed Bakura for barging into his perfect little high-class court with his thief habits and common blood. But Bakura wasn't blind and knew the old man had a weird sort of resentment towards Atem, too, even if the redhead was his late brother's sole blood heir and his only family left.
A thief had to keep their intuition for trustworthy people sharp. One who didn't ended up dead.
And all his childhood spent in the palace, Bakura couldn't help but feel a strong mistrust, bordering hatred, toward the Priest of the Eye, about as deep and abiding as Aknadin's obvious dislike of him.
"No excuse," Aknadin repeated, cutting Atem off in a way no one else would dare cut off the Crown Prince of Kemet, Horus's mortal incarnation. Bakura knew full well Atem wouldn't protest, though. Aknadin had been nagging and scolding the redhead throughout his childhood, and Atem trusted Aknadin as the head of his regency and his father's only living relative. "Ra's name, what if something had happened to you? None of the guards or servants knew where you were; do you comprehend how dangerous that is?"
"I know, Uncle-"
"I assumed that being disfigured in an assassin attack would teach you to err on the side of caution!" Aknadin huffed. "Instead all it seems to have done is knock all the sense out of your head! Your father taught you better-"
"I was preparing for something!" Atem finally forced out.
Bakura looked at Atem in surprise. He'd been tight-lipped about why he was trying to sneak out of the palace this morning, and any excuse he'd given boiled down to the go-to excuse for any of the utterly lunatic things he did: namely, "I just wanted to know if I could."
The prince's curiosity rivaled that of a baby monkey, even though he was almost fifteen - practically an adult. But there was a… desperation to a lot of the crazy things he supposedly "just wanted to know". He seemed to always be planning and preparing for something vitally important, and it bled over into the kind of activities he roped them into. He didn't want to know how to fish and shoot ducks, but rather needed to. He didn't want to see if he could grow his own vegetable farm; he needed to. It wasn't simply whim that prompted him to practice his stealth by climbing out his window and onto the roof before sunrise; it was a matter of life and death.
Bakura recognized this and humored him in it, but Aknadin, Bakura suspected, was physically incapable of finding the humor in anything.
Now, apparently, Bakura was about to find out why Atem was so desperate to have this particular adventure.
"Preparing for what?" Aknadin asked icily.
"Um… I was thinking about the attack, actually… and I was thinking… I was thinking that if something happened… and I needed to leave the palace in secrecy… I should have a plan for that."
Bakura blinked. Atem had informed him as much as he could about the incident that had happened just prior to Bakura's arrival, the attack that had left a white knife slash bisecting the prince's forehead and a ragged star-shaped gash above his eye, both permanent reminders of how he had narrowly avoided death.
An assassin had broken in, leapt at the young prince, and managed to graze his forehead with his knife. Atem had stumbled back and tripped, hitting his head on the stone steps of the elevated dais the Pharaoh's throne was situated on. Bleeding heavily and unconscious, Atem had been snatched up by the nearest guard and taken to Naunet, the palace healer, the bride presentation they'd been in the process of finalizing was cut short and the engagement annulled, and the assassin, as quickly as he had come, had fled.
The hooded stranger still, even ten years on from the attack, had not been found. Nor had he made another attempt on Atem's life since.
Atem had been unconscious for the rest of that evening and all the next day. It was near the midnight hour of the second day that he had awoken, confused and panicked. And it was right after this that he'd started his exploration and preparation efforts, planting his garden, apologizing to his would-be bride, and throwing himself into combat and magic training.
But other than that, Atem had never expressed that the attack had bothered him. He acted almost casual about it, not caring about the scars and how they decreased his chances of marriage, and not acting afraid of the still-uncaptured assassin's return in the slightest.
But apparently it had weighed on him more than Bakura had thought.
Aknadin glowered at Atem. The Millennium Eye gleamed faintly, proof the old priest was using it to probe Atem's mind and see if what he said was true.
He seemed satisfied with what he saw, though, because he nodded knowingly, and when he spoke again, he was calm and collected again.
"You could have simply asked if we had such a plan in place, my nephew. You didn't have to involve Priest Bakura." Aknadin leveled a look of hatred at Bakura.
I get it, you hate me. At least you're calling me Priest instead of 'thief boy' and those other cute epithets you gave me when I first got here.
"I understand, Uncle. I'm sorry."
"See that you remember: you don't have to do everything alone. You have your regency to aid you. You are not of age yet."
Atem nodded. "I will."
"I shall leave you and Priest Bakura to eat. Please remember, nephew, the regency and I are only looking after you."
Bakura wasn't sure he liked the look in his eye. At all.
Later that morning, after Bakura had finished eating - he didn't know if it was because he was simply taking advantage of the abundance of food the palace had or if constantly starving as a child had made him require more food now, but that was always a lengthy process - he found Atem pondering over one of his 'letters to himself'. He was always writing in those, Bakura thought, and was incredibly secretive about what he wrote. While he wrote, he would talk to himself, little tidbits that made no sense to any of them.
The scrolls were, Atem insisted, reflections on the day that he could look back on later for advice.
Why no one else was allowed to look at them, Bakura had no idea.
Atem frowned to himself. "...But why was it on the passageway wall? Could one of the tomb builders have been… from that world?"
Bakura blinked. What world?
"Maybe- oh! Bakura!" Atem began, only to cut himself off and smile when he saw Bakura standing there.
"Writing your letters again?"
Atem nodded, blew gently on the scroll to dry the ink, and rolled the scroll back up and set it aside.
"Was that really why you wanted to find a secret way out of the palace?" Bakura asked. "Were you worried about the assassin? Because if that was true, you could've just told me."
"I don't want to worry you, any of you," Atem replied quickly.
"So you're finally finished stuffing yourself?" Seth cut in. The brunet priest was holding a practice sword; he must have been training. Kisara, holding one of her own, was right behind him.
"What have you two been doing?" Bakura asked.
"I could ask you the same question," Kisara said. "Lord Aknadin is on the warpath again, and that usually means you two did something to vex him."
"It wasn't that bad this time!" Bakura groaned.
"Everything you do is worth losing his temper over, Bakura, you know this," Seth said.
"It's not my fault the old snake hates me," Bakura grumbled.
"Ahem."
Isis folded her arms. "I heard Aknadin shouting at you again," she said to Atem and Bakura.
"I think there were some people outside the city that heard him," Bakura deadpanned.
"What was it about?" Isis asked.
"Atem got himself stuck up a tree trying to sneak over the wall, and I got blamed because I decided to follow him," Bakura said.
"I wouldn't have gotten stuck if you hadn't startled me!" Atem protested.
"Anyway, he told Aknadin that he wanted to know if there was a secret way out of the palace in case he had to leave, quickly and quietly."
Seth nudged Isis. "Aha! I was right, Isis; pay up."
"Horus's name, must we settle this now?" Isis protested.
"You were taking bets?" Atem asked.
"Seth and Isis were wagering on what you were up to," Kisara said.
"Not just us! As I recall, you bet five pieces that Lord Aknadin would be the one to catch them!" Seth protested.
"Lord Aknadin is a perceptive man," Kisara said to defend herself.
"At any rate, I won the bet, so I expect payment," Seth insisted.
"I suppose I did agree to the terms." Isis took out her pouch of gold and counted out six pieces.
"Don't shortchange me, Isis, we agreed on seven."
"Only if Bakura was in on it, Seth; and he said he decided to follow Atem on his own."
Seth huffed and took the six gold. "Loopholes."
Kisara smiled mischievously and held out her hand.
"What?" Seth asked.
"I said that Lord Aknadin was going to be the one to find them out and I was right. That means you both owe me five gold."
"Urgh… fine," Seth said, dropping five pieces into her waiting hand. Isis did the same.
Bakura elbowed Atem. "It's nice to know we get in trouble so often our friends are betting on it."
"What are you doing out here, Isis? Seth and I were wondering what happened with Aknadin earlier."
"As was I. But there was another reason. The council of regency met last night to talk about some new arrivals, Lady Asenath invited me to the meeting, and I thought you ought to know."
"New apprentices?" Bakura asked in surprise.
"Yes. I know, after ten years putting up with us, one would think the regency knew better," Isis said dryly.
"Was that targeted at me?" Bakura asked, feigning innocence. "Atem, I'm being slandered, have her arrested!"
"It isn't slander if it's true," Atem said flatly.
"Being snide, are we? Remind me, who got stuck up a tree earlier?"
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" However, even as he teased, his heart didn't seem to be in it. A slow dawning realization crossed his face.
"Where are they from?" Kisara asked.
"They were from an old family of priests with close ties to the Pharaoh, who practiced a particularly powerful brand of fiend magic, similar to that which resides in the seven holy treasures. The clan is all but destitute now," Isis explained. "They live in small villages dotted all over the desert, many of them near tombs, where it's rumored the spirits of the dead can enhance their power. You ought to know, Atem, Lady Asenath told me that the late First Queen hailed from one of that clan's branches."
Atem nodded, biting his lip in obvious dread.
"Hey, what's up with you?"
Atem seemed to snap out of his anxieties and force a smile. "Nothing, Bakura. Isis, why are these new apprentices being brought in now?"
"I can't say. Asim seemed interested in one as inheritor of the Ring, but other than that, I don't know why it's happening now, of all times."
"I'm guessing they wanted some shadowfolk who knew their way around dark magic to pass the more tainted Items onto. Aknadin already has Seth, and that old snake is going to stick around until the end of the world the way he's going," Bakura began, only for Seth to glare at him in defense of his mentor. "And Kisara is basically Maahes' inheritor anyway, so the Rod has someone to go to if he goes - not to mention, Maahes is still young. But that leaves the Ring without an owner if good old Asim bites it - and that's bound to happen sooner or later, since he's the oldest council member besides Vizier Siamun. Someone hailing from a clan that works in death magic is a good bet to give the Ring to when it happens."
"That answers Atem's question about one of the apprentices," Seth said, "But not the other one."
"That's true. Siamun still doesn't have an apprentice, but his Item is one of Light," Isis added.
"We won't know until we meet them, will we?" Bakura said.
"Do you know any more about these new apprentices, Isis?" Atem asked.
"I know that they're twins, a girl and a boy."
"Ooh, double trouble," Bakura teased, only for everyone to look at him, irritated.
Atem straightened, shaking his head. "No matter why they're here, we should welcome them. If they're going to stay here, we should be nice." He directed the last statement mainly at Bakura and Seth.
"Come on, why are you looking at me?"
"Because I don't know if these new arrivals have the same brand of humor we do and I don't want them to be scared off by your pranks."
"Or your attitude," Bakura muttered to Seth, who bristled.
Atem turned to Isis. "When will these new arrivals get here?"
"Today, provided the journey meets no delays. That's why the council was meeting about them."
"And I'm guessing we've got to be there to greet them like the good, high-class boys and girls we are?"
"I will have to be there," Atem said. "You're free to come if you want, but I'm the only one obligated to come - as… as the Crown Prince." The redhead's face visibly fell, the way it always did when he thought about his late father and his impending assuming of the throne.
"We're coming, trust me," Bakura said. "No matter how much I complain about it, we are. Right?" he added towards Seth, who sniffed.
"Of course I'm going. Master Aknadin has told me multiple times I need to know how council decisions are made."
"Ra and Hathor, it's almost like that bitter old snake is set on you being Pharaoh," Bakura said. Seeing Atem look away, he quickly backpedaled, "Uh, no offense, Atem."
Atem took a deep breath. "Seth would be much more fit for the position than me."
Seth's eyes widened. "Tell me you don't really think that, Atem."
"Yeah!" Bakura added, catching the prince's shoulder as he started to walk away. "What on earth has you convinced you'll be a bad king!?"
"Is this about what Lord Aknadin said this morning?" Isis asked.
Atem's frown deepened. "Listen-"
Seth inserted himself in front of Atem. "No, I'm not about to let you beat yourself up over what Master Aknadin thinks. Sure, your way of doing things is… unorthodox, but you can't immediately conclude that means you'll make a poor ruler!"
Kisara bit her lip. "Surely the gods have ordained you to be a worthy ruler," she said. "After all, didn't they appear to you as advisors when you were only a child?"
Atem shifted his weight, looking anywhere but at any of them.
"...Let's just…" he cleared his throat, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he were thinking of something to say. "We should talk about this later. I think I saw the escort for the new arrivals approaching the gates."
He inclined his head in the direction of the front gates, before walking away, his gaze distant and pensive.
Bakura and his fellow students were left staring after him as his cape fluttered around the corner as he disappeared, blinking at the blatant lie.
"I told you something's eating at him," Kisara whispered to Seth.
"And I said I noticed," Seth replied. "I just can't get over the fact that the soon-to-be Pharaoh just confided in us that he thinks he's unfit for the job."
"You're not getting a swollen head about him saying you would be better?" Bakura asked.
"Of course not, Bakura. I'm not blasphemous," Seth huffed.
"Why does Atem think he'll be a bad ruler? In many ways, he has the traits suited for a Pharaoh already," Isis said, sounding shaken. "He is nothing but kind to those who serve him, even those he greatly outranks, he's a cunning strategist, he's courageous and a man of honor, and he even has the approval of the gods."
Kisara frowned. "If he's been convinced of this all this time, that does explain why he dreads coming of age."
"That doesn't explain it," Seth pointed out. "It explains why he doesn't like the idea of being king, which anyone who's spoken to him since the late Pharaoh's death is aware of. It doesn't explain why he's going around as if fearing for his life."
"He let slip to Aknadin he's been worrying about the intruder who attacked him when he was little coming back, hence why he's obsessively worked on his fighting and magic since then," Bakura said. "That was what we were talking about when you three showed up."
"If I'd known that weighed on his mind more heavily, I would have offered my help," Isis said.
"I don't know if he would accept it," Bakura pointed out. "He's pretty stubborn about not worrying us."
Seth was frowning, but the brunet turned. "Let's talk about Atem's fears about being king later. If we want to join him in meeting these new people, we should head to the throne room."
As the four priests-in-training debated Atem's behavior, Atem himself took a deep breath before entering the throne room, trying to calm his nerves. He bit his lip before sitting down on the largest, most ornate throne of the council - the Pharaoh's. The council had collectively insisted on it as it was disrespectful of them to make Atem stand to the side while they made decisions now that he was in all but title the chief council member as the future Pharaoh, but he always felt wrong sitting here. This was Father's seat, and Atem didn't feel worthy to sit there in his absence. Then, as the remaining council members trickled in, he sat there deep in thought.
As far as he knew, there was no doom flag involving a pair of twin siblings, and the scenes he remembered from the game were wildly different now, so even if there was, that told him nothing about how this would shape his plans. And if these twins were affiliated with them, the player character… Atem didn't feel ready at all to meet the person whose future determined his fate in turn.
In seven months, my fifteenth birthday will arrive. And with it, my doom, if I don't prepare.
As the years had advanced and that day had grown closer, Atem couldn't help but become more and more anxious, panicked, even. It seemed like no matter what he did his future was still fully on-track to play out more or less like the game.
Everyone was gathered in the same place, as before. The only major change was that Bakura lived at the palace now, rather than on the city's outskirts. Isis was trapped in the role of a priestess, tied to him. Kisara and Seth were intertwined together, not engaged, but as good as wed in the court's eyes, and there was no sign of the actual savior she had fallen in love with all those years prior.
Bakura… well, Bakura was the only wild card. Atem had to admit it had made a difference to have the former thief here rather than fending for himself at the head of a gang of bandits. Atem had kept an eye on him - as guilty as it made him to even think his foster brother would do the same horrible things Bakura did in the game - but he'd shown no interest in Isis, unsavory or otherwise. Isis, likewise, had shown little sign of having the same crush she had on him in the route she served as rival in.
The issue was that there were so many routes for the timeline to follow, many of which Yugi hadn't played in life, and Atem, while his knowledge of the game gave him some foresight, had no idea which route this world would follow. More confusingly, it seemed to follow all of them at once and at the same time none. It made sense, given this was reality - at least a reality - and thus wasn't constrained to focus on two or three characters at a time.
Atem had thought when he'd resolved to avoid his dark fate at five that it would be easy. He would know everything before it happened, after all. But since the story so far had been wildly unpredictable, even as it had tread the same beaten track toward Kingdom In The Sand's opening credits, he had found himself flabbergasted at every turn at what he saw in the characters that had simply not been present in the game.
Now, he fretted it was almost dehumanizing to call these people characters. They seemed so real and human, just happening to wear the faces of the capture targets and rivals he recognized. In fact, the game's versions of them seemed so shallow in comparison.
He never would have thought Isis would have an outspoken, silver-tongued streak to her, nor would he have anticipated her not only putting up with whatever ploy he conjured up for the day, no matter how uncouth she muttered under her breath it was, but reveling in the fun once she got into it. A few days ago, she had surprised everyone by beating them all in a rowing contest, then, when Bakura had teasingly shoved her into the river, she had surfaced and used her magic to call upon a massive wave to drench her fellow priest, launching a wild water fight that had lasted hours. Kisara, far from the shy slave girl locked in a loveless marriage, was quick-tempered, mischievous, a swordswoman to rival the palace guards, and not even needing her ka to be dangerous if she so chose - in addition to she and Seth constantly being together, never one without the other, a vast contrast to the game where they hid it well in public but in private couldn't wait to be away from each other. Bakura, far from being a cruel, crafty bandit or a good-hearted but still dangerous rogue, had settled comfortably into a harmless prankster at the absolute worst, one Atem simply couldn't see murdering someone or dragging a defenseless young woman out into the desert to an unknown fate.
That was the worst part, he decided. These people he had come to know, come to love, it was in their fate to turn on him. One day, should he trip a doom flag, they would see him for the villain he was and coldly sentence him to one of his many cruel Bad Ends.
What most worried Atem at the moment, though, was how the story seemed to have… stalled, in a sense, especially so close to the beginning of the game's timeline. Nothing was moving. It was nice to not have to worry about doom flags for a little while, but part of him wondered if it was the calm before the storm. More alarming still, they were still missing one capture target: either Mana or Maahad, the other being the main character who would set the game's events in motion.
And now these twins were here. It couldn't be a coincidence, it had to have something to do with the timeline, but what?
"Lord Atem? Are you alright?"
Atem startled at the sound of the voice: Grand Vizier Siamun. His grandfather in all-but-name had his wizened hand clenched around the Key of Divining.
"Oh, sorry, Siamun. I was just lost in thought for a moment," Atem replied.
"About what, my lord?"
Atem decided to tell a fraction of the truth. "These twins. I'm curious about why they've come here now."
"They came on Lord Aknadin's orders, sire," Siamun replied. "Members of the tomb-keeper clan will be valuable in the court, as advisors about the Millennium Items, and quite possibly a bearer of one if one of us were to fall. Their magic deals in the same darkness as the Items, after all."
Atem knew that the seven Items, while used for the good of Kemet, had a dark presence within them. Three of the Items were barely touched by it, if at all: the Key, the Necklace, and the Scales. The Rod, the Eye, and the Ring, however, were deeply tainted by this energy, so much so that even more rigorous training than was the normal, already lengthy assessment of worthiness was needed for a new bearer to be chosen. Just to be sure the darkness in the Items did not overtake the chosen bearer.
The Pendant had no bearer. Not yet. That last and seventh Item was meant to be equal-parts pure and tainted. While the three pure Items stood for justice and the three tainted ones for ruthlessness, the Pendant was both, as the Pharaoh who bore it also had to be.
That Pharaoh was decreed to be him someday, on the very day he came of age. Until then, it was locked safely in his father's locked old bedchamber, hidden behind cunningly placed magic wards and traps.
"I understand. Isis thought similarly when I spoke with her."
The older man nodded. "On the subject, do your friends plan to make an appearance to greet the new arrivals?"
"They all said they would," Atem replied.
"Good. I think you may need them more than ever in the coming years, when you wear the crown of Kemet."
Atem frowned, not wanting to think about his coronation day if he could help it. Then what Siamun said registered. "What do you mean?"
Siamun chuckled. "I mean as a replacement for me, young Lord, and all the others of the council. With the exception of Maahes, all of us are entering the twilight of our lives. We simply won't be around forever."
"And you intend my friends to stand on the council in your place?"
"Assuming that is what you want, Lord Atem, of course," Siamun replied with a bow. "Lady Isis has already borne the Necklace of Foresight all these years."
"It is what I want, but that won't be for a long time, I should think," Atem replied. He didn't want to think about the council dying and being replaced either. The six remaining priests had been incredible teachers and even foster aunts, uncles, and grandparents, especially after Father's death.
"I surely hope it won't be, but that is for the gods to determine," Siamun said, before he bowed and walked over to his seat at the council, stopping to exchange some words with Asenath.
Atem was left alone with his thoughts, which had been stirred up by Siamun's observation. He honestly hadn't planned past his coronation day. His efforts had always been simply to avoid the doom waiting on that day. If he survived, of course, that meant he would be Pharaoh, and have that responsibility to uphold.
But honestly, if it meant no more doom flags, Atem would find that a relief.
"Oiii!" Bakura called as he walked in, catching Atem's attention before taking his place standing off to the side, not caring when his casual greeting made Aknadin double-take and glare at him. Since they weren't on the council, his friends weren't permitted to sit in the main council chamber, instead standing on the side balcony where he had stood as a child, when the monumental choices to spare Bakura, free Kisara, and apprentice Seth had been made. Isis, rolling her eyes at his over-the-top entrance, took her place at the balcony as well.
Atem heard Seth before he saw him.
"Bet you four gold you lose the next sword match!" the proud young priest challenged Kisara, who was standing like a ghost next to him. Kisara folded her arms across her chest and replied, "Fine, but you have to give me eight gold and your finest bracelet if you lose."
Isis elbowed a giggling Kisara. "Honestly, betting in the throne room? You ought to be ashamed." She was smiling behind her hand, though, proof she was teasing the white-haired girl.
"Seth started betting first, not I," Kisara replied calmly, causing Seth to turn red and sputter for a few moments, before he huffed, hiding a small smile at Kisara by turning his back to her.
The door opened, and a messenger flanked by guards hurried through, prostrating on the floor in a show of reverence.
"Lord Atem, priests and priestess of the Sacred Court!" he said. "I present to you the eldest son and daughter of the shadowfolk clan's Illusion branch!"
Atem, after a moment, remembered what he was supposed to do.
"Rise," he said with a wave of his hand. The messenger stood up and stepped aside for the guests he had just announced.
A group of four guards entered next, escorting a pair of teenagers, the same age as Atem himself.
For a moment, Atem stared at them in shock, before he remembered he had the council with him and took a deep breath, schooling his face to appear more composed.
Standing in front of him, looking at the opulent hall in wonder, were both Mana and Maahad, walking hand in hand. Just like in the game, they simply looked like counterparts of each other, both having the same chocolate brown hair and both dressed in very similar tunics, one more masculine and one more feminine, with identical beadwork - in the trend of having identical twins dress alike to increase the shock factor in those they met, that wouldn't be invented for another several millennia in the otherworld's time. The only difference was that Mana's hair was more choppy and spiky than Maahad's straight locks, Mana had green eyes whilst Maahad had blue, and of course the obvious, one was a boy and the other was a girl.
Even as Atem processed this, another side of him mused, Of course. Who else would the mysterious identical twins be than the main character and their opposite gender counterpart. But does that mean…?
Dread gnawed at Atem's heart.
Did he have two main characters unwittingly shaping his fate?