At the very heart of Egypt, there exists a grand structure to which all other structures pale: Akhetaten—the Palace of Light. Its origins is one of conflicting mythos. Some say it rose along with the universe out of the primordial sea of chaos. Others claim it was constructed by a great ruler who reigned long before the first Pharaoh. However it may have came to be, it is now a sacred residence in which pilgrims who have awakened to Ma'at come to convene with the gods. Akhetaten houses a monolithic obelisk—one that pierces the very heavens. The runes carved into its body is the language of the gods, incomprehensible to mortal men. The current of life essence that gathers at this holy ground is the most concentrated of any place existing in Egypt, even perhaps the world.

Gold inlays the exterior of the palace and its walls are carved with the story of the great creator and his journey across the sky. At the great hall, a man dressed in an elegant robe and sashes, carrying a grand staff, stands before eight giants clothed in sunlight; their appearances only distinguishable by their shapely figures and nothing else. "He who has earned our favor, we bestow upon you the highest title of any mortal man. From hence forth, you will be known by all as the En'jer—king of kings." The bellowing voice of the masculine giant resounds throughout the great hall.

"En'jer huh? I most humbly accept." The man, whose face is hidden from view, bows in deepest gratitude and respect.

"I have but one question, En'jer. Why did you refuse our offer of Godhood?" The voice of a female giant asks the man.

"Because I have one desire I've yet to fulfill."

"And that is?"

"I will unite all of Egypt." The man proclaims proudly and without a hint of hesitation in his voice.

The collective of giants smile. "Is that so?"

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The great hall of Thebes' royal palace is remarkably silent today as the kingdom's officials anxiously await the arrival of their new Pharaoh. A Pharaoh they once knew to be just a boy. A royal child destined to be Pharaoh before his unfortunate exile from the kingdom some twelve years ago. It's funny how destiny works: ignorant of all other events. Despite all that's happened, the boy will still be assuming the throne after all. Not even a single whisper escape the lips of any of the officials. Then, the magnificent doors at the end of the hall opposite the throne opens, filling the long corridor with sunlight. Shadows of several figures cast onto the stone floor of the hall. As the eyes of the officials finally adjust to the light, they see him: their new Pharaoh.

A boy of long blue hair and amber eyes stands before them, dressed in the rags of a weary traveler. His expression is nothing short of pure awe at the sight of the great hall. His memory of the place is fuzzy, no doubt, so such a reaction is to be expected. Accompanying the would-be Pharaoh is a band of soldiers sent by his very kingdom to find him and... a stranger. A tall, muscular man covered in foreign images. He seems the warrior type. "Whooooa! Would ya take a look at this place? Pretty jaw-dropping huh, Zamonth?" The young Pharaoh asks his foreign companion as he casually taps his chest with the back of his hand.

"ALL HAIL PHARAOH AMENHOTEP!" The collective of officials chanted in unison.

The young Pharaoh is immediately taken back by their sudden chant. He's definitely not used to such a display. "R-Right! I should probably respond." He thinks to himself before taking a respectful bow. "Please to meet you all!" The officials begin to whisper amongst themselves. Did the Pharaoh just bowed to them? What an odd sight to see. They're unsure how to even process such a move by their Pharaoh. Amenhotep, more commonly referred to as Amen, stands back up and looks around, confused by their reaction. "Did I say something wrong?" He wonders aloud.

"Ahh, Pharaoh Amenhotep. It is of the greatest pleasure to have you home." A feminine voice emanates from the crowd of officials. A seemingly young woman appears before Amen. She is dressed elaborately, even more so than the others.

"Nice to meet you. And you would be?"

"I am Iaret. Third wife to the late Pharaoh Thutmose. I am simply a minor adviser now."

"She looks almost my age! How much of a pervert was this guy?! Crap, I shouldn't speak ill of the dead! Sorry, sorry, sorry-"

"You must be tired from your travels. A hot bath and new clothes await you in your chamber. I will be by shortly with your Viziers."

"Oh, thanks! Oh yeah, this big guy here is Zamonth." Amen points his thumb to the foreign warrior. "He's like a... brother in arms. If you guys could give him a place to stay and make sure he's fed, that'd be great."

"I'll be sure to have a servant prepare a room for our guest." Iaret smiles warmly.

A bit later, Amen finishes with his hot bath after shooing away the servant girls with rather voluptuous assets there to assist in his bathing. He then puts on his new clothes which include quite a bit of royal jewelry. "Heh, I used to steal these. Now I gotta get used to wearing them." He remarks about the jewelry.

"Pharaoh Amenhotep." The familiar, soothing voice of Iaret calls out to him. Amen walks to the front of his chamber and is greeted by Iaret and four other people. A girl with long hair who's dressed like a priestess, a young man with blonde hair, and a girl in dark, loose robes. Is she hiding something under there? Finally, there was an older gentleman in the sea of young faces. "These four will be your teachers, guides, and personal guards. They're your Viziers." Iaret explains.

"Hmm...? But I already got someone like that: Zamonth." Amen blankly states.

"You mean that tattooed brute? No, no, no, no. That won't do! You need real viziers, trained in the ways of the court and knowledgeable about the various aspects of your kingdom. Allow me to introduce myself, my Pharaoh. I am Aperel: royal architect and scribe." The old vizier who has an inflated air of self-worth introduces himself. Insulting Zamonth behind his back... What a coward.

Walking out from the large golden doors beside Amen, Zamonth curiously looks around the glowing palace. "Yeah I guess so." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It is kind of bright though. Everywhere I look, I have sun reflecting in my eyes." His voice, though he wasn't trying to speak loudly, was naturally booming. Some of the officials closer to the them could hear his comment as they gave odd sideways glances to each other. They were probably already confused enough to see someone in his attire, but to hear someone speak of their great palace like this was probably unheard of and quite insulting.

As everyone erupted in praise, Zamonth was just as taken back as Amen was. He wasn't impressed though. In his experience, those that that tried too hard to like someone they didn't know or care for was only their way of trying to earn good favor amongst someone who had more power than they did. But as patiently as he could, out of respect and loyalty to Amen, he remained quiet the remainder of the time and watched everyone exchange formalities.

Once the late Pharaoh's wife appeared, he raised a suspicious eyebrow. Not only was she younger than himself, she was almost Amen's age! Either she was flat out used, or had some conniving intention that didn't quite work out once the Pharaoh died and Amen took over. He'd keep an eye on her. Simply nodding his head when Amen introduced him, he then followed after a servant to what would be his new room apparently. All he really cared about now was getting something in his stomach.

Once he was finished bathing, or rather, having been bathed by his several hostesses, Zamonth made his way back to where he saw Amen walk off to. As he found Amen's room, he quietly appeared behind the group of Viziers that was greeting Amen.

"Tattooed brute, ay?" From his overwhelming height, his cold and emotionless eyes stared down heavily on the old man that dared speak of him in such a manner. "Perhaps, I should show you some of this brute's brutality? I may not know anything about your dingy palace but I know a thing or two about smashing heads. Or if that's not disciplined enough for you, maybe you want to see some swordplay?" Zamonth reached behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his giant broadsword that was now strapped to his back. He had no intention of really acting on anything, but the fear he would instill in this spineless man before him would be enough to permanently keep his mouth shut and think twice before so much as even uttering Zamonth's name. It wasn't a direct threat, as again, he was here to support Amen, but he was the furthest thing from a pushover.

"And who are these guys? I don't know if you got the message. But Amen is already being protected, and I can teach him anything he needs to know about combat. Surely, you aren't trying to insult your great Pharaoh and his powerful friend. Is that why you didn't send for me and I had to find my own way here?" His hand was still tightly clasping his sword hilt.

In a room not far from where the officials had gathered to greet their new Pharaoh, was a kneeling woman dressed in a simple, white dress with relatively plain golden adornments. At her knees laid what appeared to be a simple, long metal pole with a fan at the end painted with gold and rich blue colors. Her eyes were closed, breathing was even and one might make the mistake of thinking she was sleeping in quite an odd fashion.

"ALL HAIL PHARAOH AMENHOTEP!"

The chant from the officials were quite loud, enough to reach her ears causing her to frown in slight displeasure. Really, now wasn't an exact moment for prayer or communing with the Gods, but she felt like she would need some guidance from the protector of Tombs. After all, today was the day. The day her life basically died. Ugh. She really didn't want to be here. She wasn't particularly interested in politics of any sort, especially serving some Pharaoh she had no knowledge of. Well, she had been making sure to 'read up' on him as one might say. She was going to be serving him from now on, so she had to at least know him somewhat.

A pampered royal child that was exiled after the murder of the Queen. Honestly, Nebet was expecting an arrogant brat that she'd have to look after. She had no interest in such things and had half a mind to simply leave - but she had been asked by the Head Priest to ensure the Pharaoh would have someone of upstanding Moral and Lawful standing to advise him. The priestess would be remiss to tell him she wouldn't. She owed him more than a little. She'd have suffered the worst fate a soul could be given had it not been for him - to be devoured by Ammit.

She opened her eyes slowly.

Nothing.

No guidance to be had. Lord Anubis was as silent as ever...as much as she found comfort in religion, there were many things she had yet to fully understand. She doubted she would ever understand things completely, but she would try regardless. If she didn't then what was left for her? Her parents wanted nothing to do with her after what she had done, and after death she would simple be...gone. Sighing, she stood, picking up the ceremonial object at her knees. She supposed now was the time to go greet the new Pharaoh, wasn't it? With a serious expression, she made her way back to the other Viziers - Iaret would likely be coming to find them quite soon.

Nebet arrived just in time, to have Iaret collect them. The priestess for the most part remained quiet, sandals making light footsteps upon the floor as she tried to reign in a small bit of apprehension and instead listen to the possible chattering of the other soon to be Viziers, as well as any of the other officials. Eavesdropping was not exactly polite...but it had been the most difficult habit of hers to break. It seemed many of the officials were quite concerned about someone accompanying the Pharaoh...

Soon enough, they were led to Amenhotep room where he was waiting for them.

This was her first time seeing the Pharaoh, and this had most certainly not been what she had been expecting. She had been expecting him to be young to be sure, but he looked...well, there was a certain naivety about him. As Iaret explained who they were, he said he already had someone - Zamonth to be his 'Vizier', to which, the old scribe Aperel responded in quite the rude manner...just in time for this Zamonth to overhear him.

Aside from the rather funny comedic timing, this was not going to go well. Judging from this foreigners reply, Aperel hadn't been too off about his assessment of his personality. However, it was also rather apparent the young Pharaoh put a bit of trust him Zanmoth. Making enemies with him would likely result in less trust overall for both the Viziers and only shove a wedge between them, which could only sow seeds of distrust and chaos later. Nebet's personal opinion of Zamonth aside...

"Now Aperel," Nebet turned her head towards the older gentleman. "While I am certain your years of experience are invaluable, treating a guest of the Pharaoh with such rudeness is quite disrespectful. This...foreigner, Zamonth, is obviously someone Pharaoh Amenhotep has quite a lot of trust in." She spoke in an even and polite, but firm tone. "It will serve no purpose to antagonize or be rude. We are all here to serve, so we should make an attempt to at least resolve things between ourselves with civility." Finished speaking, she turns her head towards Zamonth. Trying to use intimidation...it was quite an obvious ploy she had seen multiple times in her past. Using ones impressive physical form to try to bully others. While effective at times she had started to find such displays to be rather...crude, and the method of fools who couldn't resolve things peacefully.

"However, Zamonth," She stared up at the large man before Aperel could offer any sort of rebuttal, her stern gaze narrowing slightly in displeasure though her voice was still calm and even. She wouldn't be intimidated so easily by him. "I can not say exactly why you were not summoned - but you are not a Vizier and this meeting was for us to meet the Pharaoh. I doubt that anyone was attempting to insult you, this meeting simply was not one you were privy too because you are not needed. While it might be true that you are skilled in combat...the Pharaoh needs people who know how things are run here. Viziers are more than guards - we are here to advise the Pharaoh how best to rule, and carry out his orders. Resorting to threats of violence and insults towards us will earn you no love among the Viziers or other Officials." She turned her gaze to the Pharaoh, taking a step away from the group, bowing.

"Forgive this humble Priestess for speaking out of turn, Pharaoh. I mean no insult in speaking against your friend, I merely wish to inform and avoid conflict if possible. I am Nebet, Priestess of Anubis who was tasked with instructing you in the ways of the Law and guide you in perhaps more...personal matters that can not be so easily defined by them."

Zamonth turned his head to the side as the Priestess spoke, and as she finished, his eyebrow twitched.

"Ahem." His hand lowered from his sword hilt as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry to speak 'out of turn', Mighty Pharaoh. But let's get two things straight here you palace servants." At this point, only Amen would currently be aware, but Zamonth had just crossed over into Level 2 agitation. He was keeping his cool for Amen's sake but he had a thing about being respected, not only for his sheer power, but his determination and unyielding will to accomplish any task. Many a bounty hunters, soldiers, and the like had made the mistake of treating Zamonth like a mindless grunt and had their face throughly smashed in or were humiliated in contests of endurance and pain. Zamonth was quite easily agitated sometimes, but his entire way of life was built upon aggressive principles and never letting anyone see you as weak, lest they take advantage of you.

Amen would know there was no point to interrupt Zamonth, especially that he had a strong distaste for royalty and their people, but he would be able to promptly defuse him once his rant was over. After all, while Zamonth did use his physique to intimidate others, Amen knew he would not senselessly resort to violence in a circumstance like this. Not if the tension could be dissipated before it got to that point.

"One. I don't care about your royal titles and positions, but last I checked I was invited here not as Amen's chump buddy, but to serve your great Pharaoh and ensure that not only is he well protected, but as he's been taught by me already, he should continue being taught and practicing his combat skills against the only one able to spar against his royalty. So call me his Vizier or whatever you want, but I am going to be here right next to him the entire way, and you damn well bet that my opinion will be just as deciding as yours." Despite the fact that the Priestess was looking away from him now, the sheer annoyance in his voice could be heard.


"Two. When a giant desert monster tries to drag you into the Nile River, drown you and devour your limbs while you scream and choke, you will want me to leap in there after any one of you at the blink of an eye, not after I make my way from the room of some inn because you're all on 'official business'. Please, feel comfortable discussing anything you would in front of Amen, in front of me." Zamonth could not help but feel out of place and become defensive, but at the very least, one could see his strong loyalty to Amen.


"Now, please. Continue." Moving from behind the Viziers and to the side of the room, it did not seem Zamonth was at all interested in anything anyone had to say at this point.

"Hnnnfmph!"

"Try not to speak, it makes it harder for me to examine your malady and will only extend the pain. I'm going to tilt your head a little. That's it, hold still" Qar stood behind a sitting man, his patient's head tilted back so that the sunlight properly penetrated his widely opened mouth. In his hands Qar held two instruments, one nothing more than a metal spike and the other a similar tool but with a wide, flat and blunt base. With these he tapped gently around what he felt was the source of the man's pain, a strange blackness at the base of a tooth.

His patient that morning happened to be a soldier, or rather a guard. Once again Qar had been summoned to the palace with vague orders to remain in the event the new Pharaoh arrived that day. Denied the opportunity to carry out what he felt was his duty as a healer in the wider city, Qar contented himself with seeing to the various maladies of the guards. Earlier he had been walking to the chamber where the many officials required for the Pharoah's arrival waited every morning and had overheard the man complaining of pain in his mouth. Ever eager to avoid waiting around men and women, mostly men, complaining about the wait he had leaped on the opportunity to dally a little outside.

"There appears to be corruption of the flesh in your gum. I fear your diet may be lacking or unvaried but that is not uncommon." Stepping back he allowed the man a reprieve from the odd sensation of Qar's prodding instruments and thought for a moment. "I shall try and prepare a salve you can apply to it but I fear you may have to lose that tooth before we can treat the source of the corruption. Tell me, when are you on guard?" After making mental notes on when the man would be available for treatment, Qar promised to return and see to the man's minor malady. Reluctantly, he returned to his original purpose and made his way to the palace proper.

The meeting room was strangely abuzz with excitement that day and immediately Qar sensed that he had missed an important event. Soon he learned from a passing slave that the long awaited Pharaoh had finally arrived and that the Viziers were to be introduced to their leader. Thankfully he had not tarried too long and they were escorted by Iaret to meet the Pharaoh and instantly Qar was struck with how young he was.

They had all been made aware of Amenhotep's youth but Qar could well remember such a time himself and thought nothing of the matter. Now, upon seeing the adolescent before them, the physician suspected that the relative youth of the Viziers, venerable Aperel excepted, had been a deliberate choice. After all, what young man freshly elevated to the ultimate position of power would listen to old men who could barely remember the energy their youth had afforded them, with the impatience it brought?

To make matters worse, Aperel immediately insulted the young Pharaoh's only companion. Qar struggled not to wince at the immediate misstep although when it was clear that the man himself, a huge man even to Qar's relatively tall stature, had arrived in time to hear the insult he could see the situation quickly spiralling out of control. After the Priestess' timely intervention matters seemed to calm a little although there was a simmering tension in the air, something that Qar's studies of former rulers suggested was a bad omen. Stepping forward he too bowed, unwilling to let the stand-off extend any further.

"My Pharaoh, my name is Qar, a physician by trade although I have studied matters of theology, history and a little warfare as well. While my experience pales in comparison to that of Aperel," he glanced at the old man, hoping that he had the wisdom not to create further tension with the young Pharaoh, "nor do I have the expertise in matters of Law that the Priestess possesses, I am well read in most matters. I believe I was chosen to be here primarily with the intention of maintaining your good health." He turned to Zamonth and bowed to the giant of a man in turn.

"Zamonth, it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the Pharaoh's trusted companion. While I do not feel you or the Priestess have ill-spoken, I feel uncomfortable letting any unresolved conflict fester. You were not chosen as a Vizier, it is true, which is why you were not brought here. We have been chosen to serve the Pharaoh based on our skills, knowledge or experience however," he glanced towards the young Pharaoh, struggling with his impulse to say nothing but he had, after all, been selected for this position for a reason, "if I may be permitted to be so bold, it would perhaps be suitable for the Pharaoh himself to make an appointment to his own council and that would prevent further... misunderstanding."

He did not expect, or await an answer and so stood back. The Pharaoh was young and had lived a life far away from the court with its intricacies and had not been groomed to inhabit his current role; Qar did not believe he had misunderstood his position in offering advice, even at this early stage, to the Pharaoh. He allowed himself to relax a little, resolved to live up to the expectations of his Temple and his fellows and for the first time feeling that perhaps he actually could serve a purpose here. Healing was not just relevant to the mending of the body, after all, and the rules he followed in his craft could help a fledgling new reign survive its turbulent infancy. If applied carefully, that was.

The flames flickered, casting shadows upon the sandstone walls and their golden adornments. Concealed beneath the edge of a darkened hood, eyes of clay, imperceptibly inattentive, watched the shadows dance. Unconcerned with the trivialities of this ceremony or the impending political drivel, Satiah’s disciplined mind wandered on a flight of fancy, shaping the amorphous blobs within the mind's eye into something more entertaining:

Animal shapes.

Like that one, the one cast by the young priestess, whose loose sleeves and long, smooth hair made her silhouette look vaguely like a bird. Or that of the physician’s, whose satchel and stave evoked the ears and trunk of an elephant, if you squinted hard enough. Satiah’s own shape was far less dramatic; the tall mass of robery evoked a mountain or a blob - nothing as striking as a beast. A decent set-piece for the imaginary, makeshift play that was forming in her mind.

From deep within her robes, a hand emerged, index finger tucked, thumb and pinky spread - a perfect canine shadow puppet to accompany the other players. As they began making their way towards a different chamber, led there by the ex-concubine Iaret, Satiah bobbed and turned her hand, filling her mind with fake, poorly characterized dialogue as the shadows played out.

This did not stop when they entered the boy pharaoh’s chambers, but it did stop when that stuffy old architect - whose shadow had been cast as a cobra in her little puppet show - slithered towards the teen, to use his snake tongue to hiss a purposefully crafted introduction, and a politically-minded warning against the influence of others. Satiah frowned and shook her head. Those damned courtiers, always trying to do something or another to move themselves up in the world. It wasn’t anything unexpected, granted, but it was annoying nonetheless - the guy didn’t even introduce himself first!

But before anything could be said, Satiah felt the thumping of heavy feet and a new shadow cast upon the stone. A big fellow, easily bigger than her, whose blade jutted out like the fin of a shark. By his statements, Satiah determined that that was an apt assessment - at least more apt than comparing the physician to an elephant head, and the priestess of Anubis to a bird. Despite his intimidating form however, she didn't find any need to confront him outright. Rather, the exact opposite. Simply put, the arrival of the shark - Zamonth - was adding spice to this droll conference. Where there seemed to be a hopelessly routine progression of events, there was now a deviation, a conflict. And if there was anything about conflict, it bred character - or so she'd been taught. As a result, the strategist decided against interfering, and instead silently watched it unfold, getting a good grasp of the people gathered around her. Then, when all had settled, for the first time all day, sound came from the military vizier:

“Pfft.”

Satiah shuddered with stifled laughter, loose robes shifting with each chuckle. “You all speak so timidly; you really are suited to be viziers,” she commented. Her tone was blithe and unyielding, an utterly shameless vulgarity ill fit for the lips of someone in such a position. “You know, it’s a poor adviser who can’t speak their mind. Just tell Architect Apple that he’s being an asshole and that he should suck it up and let the big the guy into our little club. At least he has a backbone.” A single hand came out, gesturing to Amenhotep. “The boy clearly wants to - not that the large one is letting up - and it isn’t us that makes the rules around here.”

For some reason, that last phrase sounded a bit more forceful in tone.

“But whatever happens, happens. Just make sure you do it without reservation, kid.” Satiah pulled her hood down. Notably, she didn't bow, but instead gave a little wave before tucking her hands back into her robes. “I’m Satiah, a former slave representing the affairs of the military in your court. Don’t let the title mislead you - I’ve done plenty of militarying in my day, and you’ll find my platoon has a pretty high survival rate,” she puffed her chest out proudly. “I’m here to make sure your army and navy are in top shape, your populace is well-attended to, and that nobody walks in, kills you in your sleep, and starts their own dictatorial rule.”

That middle one wasn’t official in any respect of the word, but Amenhotep wouldn’t know that. Besides, with all these viziers focused on laws and gods and pretty buildings, someone had to promote the interests of the people this nation was built upon.

"I would also like to point out that your friend’s assumptions about my combat performance are flawed and that I am more than capable of teaching or sparring with you, or beating a desert monster into submission before it-” She air-quoted the next part. “-‘drags me into the Nile River, drowns me and devours my limbs while I scream and choke’ which is quite hard if I'd already drowned, but that's not the point."

Nebet inwardly sighed but for the most part kept a passive, slightly cold expression as she stood from her bow. Zamonth was simply proving everyone right with that little antagonistic speech of his. If it had been a few years ago, she'd have shoved this Fan Axe so far up his backside he'd be wishing that he was the one being ripped limb from limb by a desert monster. In fact, she sort of still wanted to. It'd be funny, but that would only antagonize him further. Besides, if he thought of her as a weak little bird or something - then that was fine. She'd prove that she was not in time.

Now though, she kept her mouth firmly shut. No need to add any more flames to the fire for now...but it was clear Zamonth might be a problem. Pharaoh's friend or not, there was a certain character a good ruler needed in his Viziers...and Zamonth was anything but that from what she could see.

The priestess let Qar perform his introduction. At least another one in the room seemed to have some sense out of everyone gathered. He even posed a...well, a small solution. It wasn't much of one, to be honest. True, Pharaohs had the right to appoint anyone they wished as their advisers. Typically they were inherited, given according to skill, and often times drawn from the royal family or close associates. Zamonth though, was different. He was a foreigner and an outsider. There would surely be those of the court that wouldn't approve of such things...

And then Satiah had to go and open her mouth. Oh joy, wonderful. Things were just getting better and better.

"Vizier Satiahs...bluntness aside, Vizier Qar is quite correct. If you appoint Zamonth to a position as Vizier then there shall likely not be any immediate problems. That said, you must also take into account what other members of the court would think of appointing an outsider such as he. Plus, he does not appear to be...all that popular. If I may express my opinion, giving him the title of Vizier would quite likely anger a number of people and could very well invite trouble." Nebet bowed her head slightly. "But, you are Pharaoh and if it is your desire then it is not my place to try and stop you. I simply urge you to think of the kingdom as a whole and what would be good for it - the court is yours to use as you wish, but you must be aware that even the most loyal hound can turn on its master if the conditions are correct. Less honorable members of the court will not sit idly by while something they find...disagreeable happens."

Feeling she had said enough on the matter, Nebet silenced herself, deciding to let the young Amenhotep do as he wished now. She was only an advisor after all, she had done what she could. It was up to the young Pharoah to use his own best judgement at this point.

The old vizier's insults were quickly responded to as Zamonth appears and threatens the man. Aperel simply grits his teeth in response. Even he knows not to poke at an agitated beast. Zamonth then addresses the rest of the viziers, telling them his purpose here and not to insult him further with their callous words and actions. The priestess—who would introduce herself as Nebet a bit later—makes a diplomatic attempt to answer to both sides. Unfortunately, Zamonth would find little satisfaction from what she said and decides to make his stance on the matter good and clear for a second time. Then Qar—the royal physician—makes his introduction and gives his opinion on the current issue at hand. Like Nebet, he conducts himself in a level-headed manner and offers a solution.

A laugh from the remaining vizier cuts into the tension as she gives her rather straightforward thoughts all the while insulting Aperel who she decides a more fitting name would be "Apple". She then goes on to introduce herself and her role within the context of the group of viziers. Nebet then decides to give her final advice on the matter to Amen, telling him to do what he wishes but to consider all consequences beforehand. All the while, Iaret stands there with a halfhearted smile on her face. She didn't think things would turn out this rough already. Amen clears his throat to get the attention of everyone.

"First off, enough with the 'Pharaoh' this and 'Pharaoh' that. Seeing as how we'll all be spending quite a bit of the foreseeable future working together, I'd like you all to just call me Amen, at least when it's just us." He calmly states. The way he speaks doesn't seem to be in the form of an order. He then turns to Nebet and Qar. "You two seem like the reasonable type. So I'll take your words into account. Regarding the matter however, vizier or not, Zamonth is here to stay. He knows a thing or two about combat that I want to learn from plus," Amen pauses and looks over at Satiah, "You sure you can put up a fight? You look like you'd weigh ten pounds soaking wet. A gust of wind could probably knock you out let alone someone as powerful as me." There's the trademark arrogance one can expect of Amen. "Oh, and don't call me 'kid', 'boy', or any variation of such from now on, got it?"

"Honestly Satiah, how dare you refer to the Pharaoh as such? Spewing such wretched bile is reason enough to land you in the dungeons if not back in chains." Aperel takes the opportunity to provoke the young woman.

"Aperel," Amen calls him.

"Yes my Pharaoh-" Aperel is shocked to find Amen looking at him with piercing eyes. It's almost as if the young Pharaoh wanted him dead.

"Don't ever threaten anyone with 'chains' around me ever again. Or next time, I'll toss you in the dungeons myself." His words spark with a calm ferocity.

"M-My apologies, Pharaoh..." Aperel fearfully responds.

As tensions wind down, the group moves over to the Pharaoh's private study where everyone takes a seat at one of the many side tables. Amen, himself, sits at the center seat in the back of the room. Iaret walks to the center of the room to address everyone. "For the viziers' first task, you'll need to prepare a speech for the Pharaoh-"

Amen interrupts to correct her. "I told you to just call me Amen."

Iaret nods. "A speech for Pharaoh Amen's address today to the kingdom."

"Huh? I'm supposed to give a speech today?"

"Of course. The people are eagerly awaiting an address from the Pharaoh. They need to be ensured that the new Pharaoh will do his best for the people of Thebes and the kingdom as a whole. Due to the circumstances at hand, your viziers will be in charge of crafting the speech. It should be concise, insightful, and, most importantly, it should put the citizens at ease."

"Alright... And what will Zamonth and I be doing?"

"Master Zamonth may stay if he so wishes. Or he can feel free to explore the grounds of the court. Familiarize himself with the new setting. The Pharaoh, however, will stay to oversee his viziers and give his thoughts on the content of the speech."

"The hell?! I don't know anything about writing speeches!"

"With that, I'll take my leave for now. Best of luck everyone. Oh, the address is due in five hours." Iaret then leaves the room.

Aperel stands up with a smug look on his face. "Very well! We, your humble viziers, will craft the finest of speeches... given the allotted time. As a scribe, I will jot down our discussions." He sets up his papyrus and quill.

Just as Qar was beginning to feel he had made a meaningful, useful contribution to the assembly and perhaps even made a good impression, the last Vizier to speak laughed down his efforts and attitude. He flushed, the feelings of inadequacy he had been keeping at bay rising to the fore as, with a casual attitude that bordered on disrespectful, she cast away his idea and then introduced herself to the young Pharaoh with a confidence he could only envy. When he was acting in his capacity as a physician, Qar would order anyone regardless of rank to obey his wishes, the patient came first; in this situation where he felt out of place and keenly aware of his inexperience in the subtle matters of court life he fell back on the formality he had learned in his first days at the temple nearly a decade ago.

Thankfully, the Priestess came somewhat to his rescue although she also skillfully pointed out the flaws in his proposal. Her attitude, although not what one would describe as warm, was not insulting and Qar made up his mind to learn from the Priestess' apparent understanding of the court. While it was not his priority to be skillful in the matters of court life he refused to become a liability to the Pharaoh and end up being sent back to the Temple with nothing but failure and shame to give to the Head Priest whom had placed so much faith in him.

The Pharaoh himself spoke now. Qar could feel the youth in his speech; there was confidence in how he spoke and he seemed ready to accept the authority of his newfound position even if he had yet to come to terms with the responsibility. That in itself gave the physician hope, the rest was something that could be taught while belief in oneself was something that one either had or did not have and could not be learned. Aperel then set about making himself the least liked of the Viziers and earning the only true rebuke from the Pharaoh and Qar smiled for the first time, although he quickly restrained himself; the young man appeared to be one of some virtue and that encouraged Qar.

They moved into another room and Iaret instructed them in their task before departing. Qar watched the young woman go, frowning at the manner in which she led them. It was to be expected that they, all new to the role except for perhaps Aperel, would need some guidance but he found the way in which she deftly managed Amen, Qar had resolved to use the Pharaoh's name as per his wishes, to be troubling. He could not pin down why but in the end decided it must have been due to his own feelings of ineptitude. After all, there were much easier ways to manipulate or discredit a new ruler without exposing oneself in such a manner.

Standing, Qar began to speak. "If I may, Aperel, the 'finest of speeches' as you have put it, although I am sure you were merely being positive; will be of no use and will ring hollow. Amen is young and the people will expect exuberance and energy, not well crafted and poetic prose." Qar, surprising himself somewhat, spoke first. Perhaps he had been put at ease by Amen's relaxed attitude; at the very least he had not completely embarrassed himself thus far so his worst fears had passed. "Where possible we should allow the speech to reflect Amen's own speech so that he can deliver it truly. Even the most unintelligent can tell when one is being false."

He felt that perhaps he was speaking too much but now that he had begun to express his thoughts he found it hard to stop. After all, pulling up short in the middle of his input would only bring attention to how uncomfortable he felt. Thus, he forged on. "We can adjust the words to reflect the position of a Pharaoh but I believe the basis, the content, should be our focus. Without casting doubt on the previous Pharaoh's reign I believe that we should put forward how Amen's reign will improve the lot of the people while promising some continuity. People are generally afraid of change so I believe, for now, we should avoid any dramatic proposals but focus on items such as tackling the banditry in outlying regions. I am not as skilled in the matters of court and the political currents than run within it nor am I particularly aware of the kingdom's military and security status," he glanced towards Nebet and Satiah in turn in acknowledgement, "however I spent a great deal of time travelling in recent years and worked in a lot of healing houses. I hope that what I've heard and learned from those I have encountered, their concerns and their hopes, may be something that we can weave into this speech. If the people have hope then relative stability will follow."

Feeling that he had had more than his say, Qar sat down to signal that he had finished. They had five hours which was far less time than he thought reasonable and wondered why the Viziers had not been given a chance to discuss this speech ahead of time. Surely having a finished script to propose to the Pharaoh would have allowed more time? He shook his head, feeling paranoid after the many tales he had read in histories of previous Pharaoh's and their courts that all focused on intrigue. Clearing his mind he focused on the matter at hand, their time was short and such thoughts could be properly explored later when less pressing matters had been resolved.

As the situation momentarily calmed, Nebet listened intently to Amen. Her assumption seemed to have been correct. Naive and young, though being called reasonable made her feel slightly at ease. At least he wasn't anything like that...Zamonth person. Of course, he then went on to insult Satiah and made her want to place a hand on her head in frustration, but that would be ill fitting behavior for a priestess. For the moment, all Nebet could think she and Qar were the only possibly competent people in the room. Aperel was far too reactionary, forceful in his views. Satiah was...well, obviously was much like Zamonth and even the Pharoah seemed to focus a bit too much on some petty statement.

Well, this was her life now. Trying to keep all these people from trying to kill each other and make sure nothing bad happened. The chances were looking slim, but perhaps that was just the pessimism talking. Thanks, Head Priest. She almost wanted to strut right back up there and slap him with the blunt end of the fan axe. It'd certainly make her feel a lot better.

More seriously though as Amen continued to speak, she lost a bit of faith in him. Certainly she could understand someone disliking 'chains' or imprisonment, but they existed for a reason and he'd have to quickly learn what they were for or he'd find his rule ending quite swiftly. Besides, it was quite hypocritical to tell one not to threaten one with chains and then threaten the exact same thing to the person. You could not have it both ways. If the Pharoah was the only one capable of doing such things, then he would eventually be called a tyrant. The law was the law, and it applied to everyone equally.

But that was also another discussion for another time. It likely would never become an issue and before the situation could escalate, the group was led to a private study where they were told what their duties for the next five hours would be. A speech. In five hours? If Nebet had to hazard a guess, someone was trying to purposefully make this difficult so the young pharaoh and his Viziers would flounder and fail. Not entirely unlikely, either, but without solid proof such an idea would be mere paranoia. As Qar began to speak, Nebet took a seat not far from the Pharoah and listened intently to the other Vizier's ideas.

He had some good ideas, to be sure. Writing something completely fabricated and false would raise many red flags for the populace. However, at the same time a speech needed a certain...forcefulness to it. The populace needed to be reassured of Amenhotep's right to rule, as well as be assured that he wouldn't be a weak nor overly forceful ruler.

"Vizier Qar speaks wisely I believe, Pharoah Amen." Simply call him Amen? Absurd. That was foolish just as much as calling her as 'Nebet'. The title existed for a reason, and as such should be used. At most she'd do the same as Iaret and refer to him as Pharoah Amen. "Any dramatic proposals should be avoided until we are certain it would not create conflict within the court, or until we are certain any opponents can be reasonably dealt with. Proposing such things at the beginning of your rule would certainly have disastrous consequences without support from both the court and the populace." She gave a nod to Qar as she spoke. "Yet, simply focusing on the needs of the populace in the speech would make a number of people...uncomfortable. The speech should appeal to both the populace, while assuaging any concerns of the political officials. Assure them that their positions and standing will not be threatened. If it as any people threatened by change, it is those already with power. Though, you must be careful to not simply placate them with whatever they want - otherwise they would take advantage of such things." Pausing for a moment to think, she continued. She had honestly mostly been thinking aloud, but it was always good to voice ones thoughts on a subject if one was unsure of something.

"The speech should be firm to show that Pharoah Amen is not to be questioned, but also positive in tone and carrying a slight amount of energy. Vizier Qar has spoken well of the general populace and I concur with him on the matter of bandits and possible," Nebet visibly hesitated for only a second before continuing. "Grave robbers. However, at the same time the speech should tell those of the court they will not be threatened by the power shift. Simply assuring them that the Pharoah will not make any drastic changes as already mentioned."

And that was of course, her complete thoughts on the matter. With nothing left to say, she let the other Viziers say their piece or let the Pharoah speak his mind. She hadn't added much that Qar hadn't already said, but he had left out the members of the Court - that would be who the bit about any drastic changes taking place would need to be targeted at the most.

Just what in the hell are they talking about? All of this rambling and political maneuvering. Amen isn't the type to walk on eggshells. But, it's not like he has much to say. After all, he knows barely anything about the state of the kingdom. Thutmose... Just why did he choose Amen? Guilt? Is that even a good enough reason to risk your entire legacy? Amen hates wracking his brain about him. Before he knows it, Amen's missed the majority of the two viziers' discussion as he sat there lost in his thoughts. Something about bandits and grave robbers. Hey, that's a problem Amen can deal with.

"Bandits huh? Zamonth and I can take care of that. Just tell us where they're hiding." He says, unabashed.

"Pharaoh, we are discussing the content of the speech." Aperel explains.

"Hmm, we're still on that topic? Just write something up and I'll read off the paper."

"My dear Pharaoh, the speech is to be memorized and recited. Delivered in public to the masses. You can't simply 'read off the paper'. Now regarding the speech, if I may, the people may expect youth and exuberance but that can easily translate to inexperience. We'd be sowing a seed of doubt in their minds. The people need to assured that despite his youthful appearance, the Pharaoh is wise and will quell their inherent concerns regarding issues with agriculture and improvements to the standard of living. Play to their base desires. More importantly, we tackle the more subtle concerns that the nobles and those of the royal court may have. For any actual resistance would come from the upper echelons of society before the common man who is simply trying to live day to day. But I agree, keep the promises grounded in reality. Where I disagree is to have the Pharaoh come off as an eager and excitable fool."

This is hell. Amen gets up from his seat. "Uhh, I need to use the latrine. Please continue." Amen tells them before exiting the room.

Satiah shrugged off Nebet’s response. “Be that as it may, isn’t it better to just be out with it than to have some foreigner - no offense - whispering in his ears? Think of all the rumors, all the chaos that’d cause.” In a way she was speaking from experience. Though it was a bit different in this case. Khay was an old guy and she was a young lady so she could see where those came from; Zamonth was a big burly outlander with an exotic blade, so the potential reaction was a bit more obscure on that account. Maybe they’d think Amen went full Roman and got himself a male concubine. Or maybe they’d call him a spy and enemy of the state before executing him. She nodded to herself. Yes, that last one sounded far more logical.

It was at that point the pharaoh cleared his throat, and gave his firm adjudication. It was also around this point that the crusty old man decided to snipe at her. Satiah drew her hands up, and began counting on her fingers, figuring out where to place Architect Apple on her list if she eventually decided to go berserk. Somewhere between twenty-six and twenty-third, probably.

As she returned her hands to her robes, she heard something that brought a wry smile to her face.

“Well said,” Satiah nodded. The boy, for all his inexperience, at least seemed to have some degree of resolve if he was willing to lay down the law in that manner. It would be a shame to see such a thing washed away by the nuances of bureaucracy, but that was what she was here for, was it not? Besides, if his distaste for titles was indicative of anything, perhaps it wasn’t a lost cause after all. Not that she’d ever considered it one in the first place; anything was possible if you put enough effort into it, and she knew that very well. “Though I wouldn’t go around judging scrolls by their parchment.”

Yeah, she kind of wanted to deck the kid in the face. Just a little bit; not enough to permanently maim him or anything. Besides, though Satiah didn’t count herself as a blood knight by any means, rarely are people as honest - to themselves as much as others - as they are when they’re testing each other’s will on the field of battle; it would be like having a conversation without words, and more cathartic physicality to go around.

Although as much as her pride as a mortal demanded recompense, even without her furious focus she knew that would be suicide with five opponents - many clearly magi - arrayed against her, and not for anything particularly pressing either. The opportunity to pluck the big frog from his little pond and see what mettle the new pharaoh was made of would come in time, whether by her hand or someone else’s.

But first, applying speechcraft. Satiah followed the group into the attached study, and took a seat next to Nebet and across from Amen. Now Satiah was no stranger to giving speeches, but in her experience the reactions had been polarized demographically, save for when she tried to rally her men. In that same set of experience, though, she’d never had to write down her speech; it just came from within - a wholly honest proclamation. To have to sit down and formulate one was a new experience, and one that she would grow to disdain after the first exchange of statements.

Paying attention to Amen instead of the speakers, Satiah noted the signs of inattention and mental claustrophobia. It came as no surprise that he’d left when he did; she’d been in that position before, taking on the legacy of a father. Doubting, and all the turmoil that came with it. For now though, she would remain silent until the pharaoh had departed - though most definitely not for the reason he said. Then, once he was gone, she leaned forward in her seat, hood up, and began to speak.

“Question: are you sure you guys know what you’re doing?” Satiah asked it almost innocently, accompanying the rhetorical question with a sarcastic head tilt. “You’re not just writing a speech for a pharaoh; you’re writing a speech for Amen. Yes, I get it, he is young and inexperienced and needs to show everyone he’s a strong leader somehow and everything you’ve said isn’t wrong factually...but it is wrong in spirit.” She did a diametric gesture with her hands to accompany her explanation.

“Look, I agree with basically every point you’ve all said, I really do, but I think you’re going about it the wrong way. We were given three objectives.” She thrust a fist out and extended her index finger. “One: make it concise.” She extended the middle. “Two: make it insightful.” And finally, she extended her ring. “Three: make it ease concerns.” She lowered her hand. “First is easy, the third’s been covered more or less, but in my perspective, we’ve yet to touch the second, most important one. It’s fair to say that everyone here is invested in Amen’s success, yes?”

The robed vizier paused for effect.

“Exactly. This is the chance for everyone to know who Amen is, but what I’ve heard so far is a bunch of heartless politics." Going into this meeting, she didn't think she'd get so into it, but at some point this had become a matter of principle for her.

"Even worse than a liar is a puppet, because at least the liar is staying true to himself,” Satiah continued, unhesitatingly, “Look at the past; what you’ve got put down is just the same speech as last time and the time before, rewritten for a different pharaoh in a different time.” Satiah made purposeful eye contact with her compatriots. “Yeah, sure, okay, change is painful and frightening, but think about it this way: isn't the apathy of the kingdom is far worse? Change is like medicine: bitter, but required for healing. If the status quo is never switched up, everyone'll lose faith and hope and all the things that make people care, and Amen’s time as a ruler will have been over long before he’s given his rites and tossed in a crypt.” She shrugged. “But, hey, what worth is ruling anyway? Rulers will come and go, but a leader, a real leader? A person the people can look at and say ‘That is who I would follow into the jaws of Apep’? Now that is something to strive towards, but you don't usually get that by sticking to the rules.”

The not-so-humble attended leaned back and rested her hands in her lap, nearing the conclusion of her tangental rant. “Basically, don’t have him try to please everyone,” Satiah said, “Because it’s like wine and water; put ‘em together and all you get is a shitty drink. And anyhow, who should matter more: a bunch of shifty old men clinging to power before the Duat takes them, or the people he’s to serve? But whatever the case, his priorities in this speech should be his alone, not ours.”

Stretching her arms out and yawning, she pointed a thumb at Zamonth and added, “Though I don’t think I should be the one talking about conveying the values that live in Amen's heart.” After a short seated stretching exercise, she stood. “But anyway, that’s just my two silvers on this nonsense. I’m sure all you politically-minded folk can take it from here; so gonna go take a walk around the grounds in the meantime. I’ll be back before the five hours’re up; try not to forget what I said.”

And with that, Satiah left the stuffy room, and began hunting for the pharaoh.

Amen walks quietly through a long hallway. Obviously, his intention wasn't to use the latrine but to get away from the boring discussion between the viziers. And this whole speech business... He understands that he can't just say what he really thinks because of the problems it may cause but the idea of saying what others want to hear still bothers him; the disingenuity of it all. It can't be helped. He is the Pharaoh. Damn that old man. Dying at a time like this. Amen can't even have a proper revenge. It's all so stuffy in this palace. He needs some fresh air. Walking by a large, open window, Amen stops and looks outside. He takes a quick look around in all directions to make sure no one is nearby. Then, he goes for it: he leaps out of the open window and lands into a kneeling position on the ground below. Time to find the exit.

The city of Thebes is a bustling place with people going about their everyday lives. This is where Amen belongs. No politics. No royal retinue. No speeches. Just the forward flow of life. Having gone far away from the palace now, Amen looks back and notices the massive pyramid behind the palace. Why didn't he notice that before? He was probably worrying about becoming Pharaoh, that's why. But, he's heard of these pyramids. Each major city of Egypt, usually a capital city of a kingdom, houses one. These pyramids were built by the first Pharaoh, Narmer. They said he built it as a tribute to the gods. No one has actually found a way inside of a pyramid. A powerful, lingering magic protects them from intruders. Narmer's magic? He was known as the first Magician as well so that could be the case. It must be some insane magic seeing as how it's been lingering for over 3000 years.

Amen arrives at a fruit vendor in the bazaar and takes a look at their selection. They fruits seem rather... small. Is harvest bad this year? "Find anything you like, young master?" A young woman in her twenties asks Amen. Young Master? It's not like they've seen the face of the new Pharaoh but why did she assume he's of any nobility? Oh, right, it must be all this jewelry.

"Why are these fruits so small?" Amen asks curiously.

"Oh, well, the ground isn't as fertile as it used to be and, recently, my family has been forced to use less and less water for our crops. You see, the surrounding oases from which the water is being drawn from seems to be running dry. It's a peculiar sight."

"Why doesn't the city draw from the Nile like every other town and city around here?"

"The government grew reliant on the oases and never attempted an expedition like what you mentioned. Hopefully... the new Pharaoh will bring a change for us all."

Amen quietly watches her for a moment. He then picks up an apple and takes a bite of it. "Hmm, it's still really juicy! You got a knack for this!"

"I hope you're going to pay for it." The women smiles.

"Of course! Just let me-" Amen checks his clothing only to realize that his money pouch was left in his chambers. "Oh crap!"

"Hey, you do have money right?"

"Ehehe, it seems I've forgotten to bring it with me..." He says, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Oh I see..." She responds quietly. "It's alright. It's no use getting into an argument with nobility after all. You have a pleasant day." She tells him with a halfhearted smile.

"Huh? What are you talking about? It's no use? Yell at me! Hell, punch me in the face or call for help! Who cares if I'm nobility or not! I did something wrong!"

She is taken back by his words and then starts to laugh. "Usually, they walk away when I let them off the hook. Nobody's ever told me to punch them in the face. You're an odd noble, that's for sure."

Amen smiles. "I do what I think is right. If I'm odd for it, so be it. Oh, I know," Amen removes one of his gold bracelets and tosses it her way, "Payment for the apple."

"Huh? N-No way, this is worth more than the entire stand plus my home and crops. Really it's fine-"

Amen picks up two more apples. "That should even things out. I've made up my mind so don't give me it back, alright? See ya." Amen waves goodbye and walks off.

Back at the study, about an hour has passed since Amen and Satiah left. "Where is the Pharaoh? Surely, he isn't taking all this time for a piss. Perhaps, one of us should go check on him?" Aperel tells the others. Yeah, he sure wasn't going to volunteer himself.

This council of Viziers was going to be a handful. That was all Qar could think of as he watched the conflicting interactions. Of course, he had expected some disagreements and that could only be healthy; if all members agreed on one course of action all the time then they would inevitably walk straight into making a poor decision sooner or later. Proper debate, different points of view and experience would allow them to work effectively in advising the new Pharaoh.

In theory, at least. It seemed less like they could work together and more that they all wished to work independently without sacrificing their own, usual methods. Qar would have much rather been working in a healing house than sitting in the opulent study, crafting a speech for a young Pharaoh who either had no desire to be involved or was escaping from the sudden trappings of power he found himself cast into. However, Qar bore his responsibility heavily and would not act on whims. For all Satiah's casual and rough speech, she was at least right in pointing out that they all wanted what was best for the Pharaoh and they were perhaps losing sight of the key matters at hand.

Again, the physician felt that Priestess Nebet was pulling apart his inexperienced suggestions deliberately but the scholar within him appreciated the skill with which she rearranged his thoughts. She discarded the naive ideas but retained the core premise he had suggested, arranging a narrative around which he could see the structure for a speech that might reflect what they were wishing to convey. Satiah's input was less balanced and more crudely put but her blunt approach cut straight to the point of the matter. While he didn't agree with how simply she approached the matter, her insight would still be useful and she was perhaps more in line with the Pharaoh's thoughts than he or the Priestess were.

"I thank you for your thoughts, Priestess. Truth be told, I have read a great deal of speeches by previous Pharaoh's and I feel that none of them are precisely relevant to our current situation. Those times when the Pharaoh has been young, the impact of the speech has been to mark him as a puppet through whom the most powerful faction at court speaks and that is something we should look to avoid. I did not neglect to mention how we should deal with the nobility because I was not aware, my area of expertise is amongst the general populace and I did not want to speak out of turn in an area I hold little appreciable experience or knowledge."

They continued to speak in the Pharaoh's absence, Qar glancing towards the empty throne often with deepening concern. He had not believed the Pharaoh at all when he had announced nature calling but had assumed Amen knew the importance of the matter at hand. After a good long time Aperel interrupted to point out the obvious regarding Amen's absence. Something about his attitude had at first disappointed Qar, he had hoped to find a respectable man in one who held such a high title, but now he felt nothing but irritation.

"Aperel, I feel the need to bring up your conduct up until this point. For someone who has such experience I had thought you would know the best practices in dealing with your fellows and have respect for your position. Instead you have systematically insulted a member of this council, the Pharaoh's only known friend and companion as well as drawing the ire of Pharaoh Amen himself. Now you have contributed nothing to this matter other than to write down what little progress we have made." He knew he was on the brink of overstepping his bounds and that speaking further would only enhance the friction amongst the Viziers but now that his irritation had risen to the surface he was unable to properly control it. "If you see yourself as merely a scribe to the Pharaoh I would suggest you maintain silence, lest you say anything else crude or offensive to the Pharaoh or one of his other Viziers. If you mean to retain your position perhaps you could contribute something useful, with your many years of experience that is something we could well use. There are plenty of scribes in the court who could fulfil your role thus far better than you have, ignoring the fact that I myself am an accomplished scribe and I am sure the same can be said for the Priestess."

Qar had stood without realising and found the energy building within him had made him restless. He was distracted by the need to finish the speech, a pressing matter to be sure, but he also felt the need to refresh his mood and also find the Pharaoh. Although they could craft a speech without the Pharaoh present it would set a bad precedent and Qar felt it would not be right, more simply.

"I will do as you have suggested and search for Pharaoh Amen. As we have mentioned, I fear that there will be those who work against him and will take his isolation as a chance to act. It will also give me time to think on this matter, some fresh air and distance may bring inspiration. Perhaps you could consider your position and what you should be doing, to be useful to the Pharaoh." He was once again speaking to Aperel, turning to bow to the Priestess and Zamonth in turn before leaving the room.

It was rare for him to feel so restless, off-balance and irritable. From when he had been summoned to the palace long before Amen had arrived to this first meeting of the Viziers everything had fallen short of his expectations. He had hoped, perhaps naively, that the Viziers would put aside their conflicting differences to work in the Pharaoh's best interest but instead they had openly allowed cracks to rupture the council's cohesion before they had even begun their first task. Qar was beginning to suspect that Aperel did not have the Pharaoh's best interests at heart, or that he did not respect the Pharaoh because of his youth. Either way, it presented an issue and he did not know how to remedy it.

The confines of the palace were constricting, he could already see that the slaves and officials recognised his position and several bowed as he strode past. He needed to get out into the city, where he felt more at home amongst the bustle of the ordinary people, to give himself time to relax and think. News of the Pharaoh's arrival had, of course, spread and there was a new excitement in the way the people moved. There was hope in their eyes that change was coming, that the troubles they faced could be taken to task by their new ruler. Qar spoke with a few, trying to gauge their desires and how best to address them.

Satiah had been right, it was going to be impossible to please everyone and so they had to choose who to please and how not to anger or lose the loyalty of others. Nebet had also been right in focusing on the court and its factions; addressing the concerns of the people could wait until Amen was more secure in his position, many of the issues facing them had been plaguing them for a long time but small promises could easily sate them.

It was in his directionless wandering that he came upon the young Pharaoh, by sheer chance. His blue hair was distinctive and Qar spotted it, along with the jewellery he wore, across the crowd easily. Immediately he was concerned with how brazenly the young man walked around but then reminded himself that very few in the city, outside of the palace, would know what the Pharaoh looked like and so he was relatively safe. Instead, Qar took a seat on a bench nearby and watched the Pharaoh interacting with the stallholder. His simple clothing allowed him to blend in easily and the relative shade of the awning would hide his face, to some extent. From his seat he could hear parts of conversation, enough to understand the general gist.

Eventually Amen waved, taking a pair of apples after handing the woman one of his expensive pieces of jewellery. Qar weighed up his options and in the end decided not to follow and watch the Pharaoh; their time was short and he would learn more about the young man in time and in a less prying manner. He stood and walked out of the shadow of the awning the bench had been in, crossing the street quickly to intercept the Pharaoh.

"Master Amen," he spoke, addressing the Pharaoh. He did not wish to use Amen's title in such a crowded place, lest it endanger them both and so instead attempted to present himself as some kind of aid to an older noble tracking down a wayward son, "it might be time to return. We were beginning to get concerned at your absence." He didn't bring up the fact that Amen had so clearly lied to escape their meeting, there was no use in admonishing a Pharaoh after all, especially a young one. He glanced at the apples in Amen's hand and then back at the stall, the woman still marvelling at the expensive item she had been given. "Have you perhaps found something you can do for these people? Something that you wish to do?"

Infuriating. Simply infuriating. Who does that physician think he's mouthing off at? Aperel sits there, quietly simmering in his own anger. He has been working for the royal court since the days of Thutmose's father. To be told off by someone so green to it all; to be told that he hasn't been contributing. Surely, there must be a problem with his ears. This is the problem with electing young viziers. They think their way is correct. It's not. Aperel knows his way is. After all, his experiences far outweigh theirs. A weak pharaoh is what they desire. Someone who unabashedly caters to the populace of farmers and servants. The only way to secure the throne is to ally oneself with the nobles and those with power.

Aperel looks up at Nebet and Zamonth. "Surely, you two must understand... We must secure the interests of the nobility and those with power with this address lest we face a possible coup. Sure, we'll make a mention or two about improving this or that for the majority populace but they are of little consequence in the face of bigger fish. And while Satiah's words ring true somewhat, she doesn't understand the bigger picture either. Power trumps all ideals. We must make the Pharaoh a powerful man. Do you want to secure the throne for Pharaoh Amenhotep or don't you?" He mostly directed his little speech towards Nebet. He couldn't care less about Zamonth's place here. From what he can gather, he's simply here to train the pharaoh in matters of combat, not to whisper political advice into his ears. Truth be told, he rather not have to appeal to the priestess either. Fact of the matter is, he, alone, should be the only voice the pharaoh needs to heed. After all, he is much more reasonable than the rest of them...

Back on the streets of Thebes, Amen has a run in with a face he doesn't entirely wish to see at the moment: his vizier, Qar. How annoying. Amen doesn't want to think about any of that pharaoh business right now. Qar, calling him "Master Amen" for the sake of keeping his identity hidden, tells him that it is about time for them to return to the palace. He then asks him if he's found something he wishes to do to help the people of Thebes. "Something I wish to do? Tch, I'm guessing leaving this place isn't an option?" Amen walks forward, passing Qar before stopping. "This... isn't for me. I didn't want to say it. I didn't even want to believe it myself but... I've realized that I'm not fit for all of this. Regardless of what Thutmose wanted, I just can't."

"C'mon, move it!" A rough masculine voice draws the attention of Amen. He looks forward and sees a man whipping a group of slaves: men, women, and children. Standing beside the man is five other men, similarly dressed. They must all belong to a slave company. "You useless pieces of shit! Stop crying and move your asses!" The man raises his whip again and prepares to strike the slaves. Suddenly, a white blade comes flying at the man and cuts his whip in two, rendering it useless. "What the-" The slavers look towards the direction of the projectile and sees Amen and Qar.

"This city still tolerates the use of slaves...? If I leave here with nothing else, at least I'll leave these slavers with broken bones!"

"I-Is that kid a Magician? Don't wait around for him to use his magic, beat his ass!" The slavers rush towards Amen.

"Qar, don't you dare say anything about who I am. I don't want anything stopping me from beating these slavers down." Amen proclaims. He seems entirely serious about this...

Nebet watched as both the Pharoah and Satiah left. Ah...this was just going so well. Why did she agree to do this again? She'd much rather be embalming someone or reading from the scriptures. It was becoming increasingly clear that the only people that were qualified for this position was Qar, herself, and dare she say even Aperel. He might be a bit on the...rude side of things to put lightly, but at least he had experience. Satiah? Not at all. She was just making things worse, and Zamonth had no business being here however much the Pharoah liked him. He was a foreigner, and there was no way the Pharaohs detractors weren't going to have a field day with it and use it as propaganda against him.

She really could use a drink right now.

Something strong. Really strong. Like, the 'my life is over, please kill me' strong.

Qar and Satiah did have a hint of truth in their words though. She didn't want him to be a puppet more than anyone - but if he didn't appease those influential ones of the court then he would very likely have himself set up as a target for manipulation or worse before his rule could even begin. She was fairly certain there were those here already scheming and scurrying about in the shadows trying to find a way to usurp the Pharaohs' legitimacy. That said, Qar's rather...rude speech to Aperel didn't exactly go over well with the priestess. She quite agreed with a number of things he suggested - but a little youthful energy was necessary to make the populace believe in the legitimacy of Amen's words. Nebet sighed heavily as she watched Qar leave to find the pharaoh, briefly considering using Zamonth as a punching bag. He looked like a big guy, he could handle a few punches. It was simply an idle thought though, and one that was only amusing to think of, and she'd have continued to think about it had Aperel not spoken up.

Considering it was just her and the old guy now, it was up to them to write the speech she supposed, though she doubted Aperel's honesty in his words even if she agreed with them. Or at least, he thought much to highly of himself.

"I agree, Aperel, at least somewhat." She replied, ignoring Zamonths presence completely. "The nobility is the greatest threat to the young Pharaoh's rule currently. The general populace will believe his words and accept him as long as the speech does not sound fabricated, as though he is merely a puppet for us or the nobles as Satiah and Qar suggest. I am not saying it needs to be full of ideals and wishful thinking - that will only sound hollow and fabricated and have the opposite effect - but it does need a certain...youthful perspective on it, but at the same time remaining firm and carry weight that makes everyone understand that he is the rightful Pharoah and is not to be questioned." It was perhaps, a bit of a contradicting request. Firm, but carry a youthful perspective on it while placating the concerns of the nobility and offering hope to the general public. It was easy to talk about certainly, but actually putting it into words...that was more difficult. It'd be much easier if the others were here, but they had decided their responsibilities apparently didn't matter. Next time she saw them, she was going to make sure they didn't do it again.

"The nobility though...are likely already scheming. It is likely why we have so little time to even consider preparing this speech. Five hours is hardly enough time, and I am quite certain someone kept this from us on purpose. The others are not exactly making it easy either, but I digress. The nobility are the ones closest to the Pharoah and pose the greatest threat. They need to see that the Pharoah is not to be questioned, or they will face consequences. The nobles are always terrified of losing what they have."

Honestly, it would simply be easier to appeal to the public or the nobles. Appealing to the nobles would very likely secure Amen some powerful allies, at the risk of shunning the public. Embracing the public though, could also be beneficial if he could get them on his side.

Ah, this was frustrating...

"We do need to be careful, however Aperel." She continued. "While the speech does need to carry a bit of weight, it can not come off as overly so. Power can often be called tyrannical and could easily be used as propaganda by the Young Pharoahs' detractors to easily spread lies among the populace, and quickly lead to disaster."

They weren't getting anywhere at this point, were they? How would she even begin writing such a thing? She didn't want to leave it up to Aperel at all, honestly, but...

"I must confess I am no wordsmith, however. I would not even know where to begin writing such a speech. I know my law, scriptures, and how to advise someone perhaps, but I fear anything I write would come off as...too forceful in nature, and the general populace and nobles would likely not take well to it." Probably a bit of an odd statement coming from her, but she did have a tendency to put things rather...forcefully when acting in such a capacity as this. After all, any conflicts or things needed to be said ended with swiftness and veracity. A stark contrast to her usual method of compromise perhaps, but one should never hesitate to do what they must even if you come off as a bit rude or blunt.

Honestly though, would they even be needed? If the speech even got completed, would the Pharoah even try to read or memorize it? She half expected him to simply toss it aside from how his attitude had been thus far...ah, no, he wouldn't would he? Even he had to have at least a basic respect for how things were done on such a level.

Impossible.

Qar sighed as Amen walked past him, revealing the unfortunate truth. He had suspected as much. Indeed, it was probable that all the Viziers had detected Amen's reluctance to take up the position of Pharaoh and the fighting between the Viziers, the politicking, had only served to drive him further away from the throne. It was something that Qar himself could understand. If he were ever any Amen's position he too would rather not have that responsibility, that constant expectation of him with hundreds if not thousands of people hanging onto his every word day in and day out.

"Truth be told, Amen," Qar used the Pharaoh's name as requested, out here in the world with no guards it would be unwise to use his title, "I would rather not be a Vizier. My calling is that of healing and being involved in these councils, this constant debating that eventually comes to little or no action, takes time away from the good I can do." He looked up at the sky, wondering why he felt the need to explain himself to the young man. Yes, he was the Pharaoh whether he wanted the position or not but if anything that would mean Qar would not want to bother him with the trivial matter of a Vizier's past life. Nevertheless, he felt his words could perhaps reach Amen if they could relate to one another's situation.

"My family are farmers, they live quite some way out of Thebes. Out there lawlessness is rife. We were a big family with a strong community around us so by and large we got by safely. In the end, there were too many of us and I went to study at Temple of Thoth when they realise I had a certain aptitude for research. In the years I was gone the banditry got worse and eventually my family arrived at the Temple far fewer in number. I'm still not sure how many are dead or enslaved. In the days after I lost more to the wounds they had sustained in their flight and so I resolved to become a healer and travelled a great deal, learning what I could." He turned to look at Amen, perhaps presumptuously staring the young man right in the eyes to hold his gaze.

"I am no politician, Amen. I am farmer who has learned to heal maladies and fix broken bodies and being here takes me away from that. But I was entrusted with this position and, even without your support, I can use my position to make things better. To educate other healers properly, bring up issues that otherwise might be ignored by the court. If I did not think that I could do more here then I would leave and set up a healing house."

They were interrupted by the coarse shout and the sound of a whip cracking. Qar winced as he heard the responding cry of pain and looked over the heads of the crowd to see a band of slavers pushing a straggling group of bound slaves along. Although he did not wish to announce it, especially in public, another of Qar's hopes was to better the lives of those in slavery. He knew that abolishing it completely would could chaos and possibly pull down their kingdom but reforming it was something that he saw as both possible and reasonable.

Amen, however, was less reticent about how abolishing slavery would affect the kingdom and before Qar could react, he had drawn the ire of the slavers. Along with it came the attention of all those in the street, cries of surprise and panic as people struggled to get out of the way of the conflict. They did not, however, go too far. It was not everyday that one saw a battle feature a magician and the danger would be worth a story to tell later.

"Qar, don't you dare say anything about who I am. I don't want anything stopping me from beating these slavers down."

Qar looked down at the young man, the fierceness in his eyes and the barely contained rage threatening to spill out of his body. The situation was too far gone to resolve with words, that much was clear. Besides, the slavers running towards them did not seem the type to accept an apology meekly before moving on; in the end the slaves would probably get a beating for something they had no part in. Instead, the physician nodded to the Pharaoh.

"Of course, Amen. However," he stepped forwards and shrugged off the top half of his robe so that it hung behind him, still held partly in place by the sash around his waist but no longer restricting his movement. Perhaps surprisingly the action had revealed a well toned and finely muscled body, not the wall of muscle of a warrior but certainly not the thin and scrawny frame one would expected from a scribe or a scholar such as Qar, with several long since healed scars dotted across his torso. "Allow me to join you. I may not be a warrior like your friend Zamonth but I will do my best to keep up with you. Oh, and before we begin..." He stopped as the first of the slavers reached them, wielding some kind of cudgel.

Qar neatly side-stepped the first attack, his movements not quite polished but were most definitely more so than those of the slaver whose brawny frame was that of one who became fit and muscled from his lifestyle, not through effort. During his numerous days at the palace waiting for Amen to arrive, Qar had joined with the Guards in their daily sparring. At first they had been surprised by his request but had found out that he was not a complete novice and was a quick learner. As such, Qar knew where to hit and how to hit and he did so with the first unfortunate slaver who was presumably only skilled in beating those unable to fight back. He tripped the man deftly before slamming the backhand of his fist into the rear of the man's skull, near the top of his neck. With barely a sound the slaver dropped to the ground, unmoving.

"I would prefer it if we did not maim or kill them. As a healer, it goes against my wishes to inflict serious harm upon others. When we are finished and the Guard come, please allow me to manage the situation. Please, in this at least trust in me."

From the top of the palace’s rooftop, essence-fueled eyes watched the city with unmatched clarity. For all its resplendence, the city of Thebes held with it an aura of grotesqueness that made it an eyesore in her sight. It was clear that things had to be changed, one way or another; the fact nobody would act was simply symptomatic of its corruption by stagnancy. The bustling streets were like diseased blood vessels.

But dwelling on the nature of things was not why she was here now, watching the city below. With the time spent speaking with the other viziers, Amen had long since vanished from the palace premises. Nobody had seen him leave through the front, but at the same time, nobody had seen him within. Word travels fast among slaves, so she was inclined to believe what she had heard; her own search yielded likewise results. Therefore, the only possible solution was that he was down below in the city itself.

Now, if she were one of those stuffy officiates, this would be a troubling fact. Instead, Satiah could only smile at the way things were progressing. The chance to get to know the people himself, and for them to know him as one of their own, would vanish forever once his coronation came to pass.

And it was for that reason that she chose not to intercept Amen when she caught sight of him. Which wasn’t so long, since that shock of blue hair and shimmering gold stood out within the public about as much as her own robes did in the desert. She’d also noticed Qar exit the grounds himself, which indicated that the others had finally caught on to Amen’s trickery, but she doubted he would be able to prevent the impetuous young boy from pursuing his own interest. He struck her as far too polite, too concerned about the proper way of things like the rest.

She clicked her tongue in irritation as her mentor’s warning echoed in her mind. Cerebrally, she knew that there were “weaknesses and strengths to every approach”, but had not yet committed such a thing. Not really, at least. She snorted. If that old man knew what she was getting up to here, he’d probably have a heart attack. Or maybe he’d just do that thing where he shakes his head exasperatedly, laughing or crying in turn; he would’ve known what he was getting into when he appointed her.

She blinked, the presence of essence fading from her enhanced eyes in the process. Even though the events below were starting to ramp up in intensity, Satiah determined that she had witnessed enough. That, and that there was no way she wouldn’t be there when everyone else heard about it - they were sure to have a heart attack!

But mostly because of that first one; the lesser nature of the enemies present meant that there would be nothing left to learn - and if there was, there had been no point in learning it in the first place.

So, she would return to the dusty little study. Heralding her entrance with the rapping of her knuckles against the stone door frame. There was a smile playing at her lips like she was remembering a funny joke, which clearly didn’t bode well for anybody within. But, rather than acerbic comment fueling a populist agenda, there was nothing more than a simple: “You guys look like you’re having fun.”

She’d not heard much of the conversation ensuing as she entered - some talk about being unable to write the speech with a proper balance of assertiveness and tranquility, and peasantry or nobility as the subject of focus. Which was good - it meant that somewhere in there brains, she’d gotten through just a little bit. “Just let all the force flow forth, Priestess. If it's too much, you can always rewrite it anyway,” she interposed, taking the chance to offer some friendly advice to the more subdued young lady, “Though... considering Amen, I wonder how much this deliberation is going to be necessary.” They ‘why’ of that comment was left unsaid. To those in the room, it may have been taken as an agreement with the shared unspoken sentiment, but really, it was clear to Satiah that fighting a bunch of slavers was the kind of debut any speech couldn’t whitewash.

“But that’s not here or there,” she dismissively waved her own comment, “Did some thinking outside, and as long as Amen isn’t around, I don’t think we’ll really be getting anywhere by writing a full speech. For all we know, we’ll have to rewrite or throw out the damn thing if it isn’t to his liking; just using the notes as a guideline for him to craft something that flows naturally - or kind of naturally, at least - might be best. Sure it’s a bit reliant on his appearance here, but isn’t everything? Besides, if we don’t find him by the time’s up, it’s not like we’re going to magically find him for crunch time instead.”

If anything, Satiah would at least offer to spare them the heartache. Let it not be said that the ex-slave was not a merciful person. “But then again, we might as well have one prepared just in case he shows up last minute - y’know, too late to edit but not too late to memorize it all,” she shrugged, not knowing how long the fight would last.

“So back to the thing you guys were talking about. Right,” Satiah began, recalling the scraps of conversation she’d heard as she entered and using them as a reference to continue, “Something about appealing to people with balanced force? Well, I figure as much as you wanna pretty it up, Amen is still a k...young guy, so any impressions were skewed since the beginning.” And, by all accounts, were going to be skewed even more. “If he comes off as too super tyrannical - or even super wise - his enemies’ll know someone else wrote it for him or consider him more of a threat, while his allies’ll be turned away since he’d be coming off as, well, tyrannical. Which makes forcefulness and feigned wisdom the clear wrong answer here,” she explained, “But if we make the speech convey who Amen at face value, then the precious status quo will be maintained another day, and the officials who would’ve wanted to ally with him are just gonna go ahead and do it, and those who won’t, won’t; they might even get lulled into complacency if we’re lucky.”

There was a distinct pause.

“And hey, if anyone tries to move against him, we can just beat them up or discredit them or nip them in the bud some other way, right?”

Amen fully expected to handle the slavers alone, not as if such a scenario would even remotely present a challenge for the young pharaoh. Slavers typically deal with resistance from slaves: those who are normally weak and malnourished. As a result, slavers fare as well in a fight as any able-bodied man. While Amen is still only a teenager, he has the benefit of combat experience and, most importantly, magic. Years of studying the mystic arts have granted Amen a weapon arguably better than any bare fist or sword. And his alignment with the god, Amun, has gifted him with control of the winds.

His assumption that he would be fighting alone, however, was quickly dismissed when, surprisingly, Qar joins the fray. Yes, the physician and vizier himself. Well, it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise considering what Iaret had told the Pharaoh before: viziers also act as the pharaoh's personal guards. It'd only make sense that Qar would know how to handle himself in a brawl, if only a little. The slaver could do little as Qar evades his feeble charge and delivers a swift and pinpoint strike to the back of the man's skull, rendering him unconscious as he falls face first into the dirt ground. Qar then appeals to Amen, asking him to refrain from maiming or killing the slavers and to allow him to handle the guards when they eventually come running.

"I had no intention of killing anybody. Maybe just a couple of bruised ribs; a broken arm or two. But I guess I'll have to settle with knocking them out." Amen proclaims.

He sets his sights on a slaver running towards him with a crude bludgeon drawn and extends his hand. Wind gathers to his palm as he calls out, "Amun's Breath," and unleashes a forward gust of wind. It's powerful enough to sweep the slaver off of his feet and send him flying backwards into one of his colleagues, taking both of them out of the match. The crowd looks on with a mixture of fear and excitement. The merchant girl from earlier nearly drops her jaw onto the floor as she watches Amen utilizing his magic. Two of the slavers surround Qar, hoping that two against one would produce a better result for them. They must've figured Qar to be the easier target due to a lack of magic shown by the physician. The last of the slavers is pitted against Amen, most likely to act as a mere distraction so the other two could take out Qar.

He did see what Amen can do with his magic, right? Even as a distraction, the slaver shouldn't last more than mere seconds. Oh, but this one is faster than the others. Not that it makes much of a difference but Amen is amused. He decides not to waste any magic on this last guy. With sword in hand, he brings it down in a vertical slash towards Amen who, with essence-infused hands, catches the sword between his palms. The sword-wielding slaver has a look of shock and horror on his face after seeing such a thing from the young pharaoh. Amen, using essence to soften the blade, breaks the sword in two and tosses the half he's holding aside. He then delivers a hard right to his opponent, knocking him out. While Amen would favor nothing more than to personally handle the last two slavers, he decides to let Qar end it himself.

In the aftermath of the battle, the guards finally arrive to restore order to things. Most of the guards turn their attention to the vendors, merchants, and shoppers, telling them to clear the area while two of the guards approach Qar who they recognize as one of the appointed viziers to the new pharaoh. While Qar deals with them, Amen approaches the slaves cowering in chains. "You won't be anyone's property anymore." Amen tells them as he breaks their chains with wind magic. He then removes more of his jewelry and hands it to the slaves. "Here. Make new lives for yourselves. Hopefully in better kingdoms than this one." The slaves thank Amen and make an attempt to leave, only to be stopped by guards. "Stand aside. If you refuse, you'll be going against Vizier Qar's orders." After Qar confirms Amen's words, the guards have no choice but to let the slaves go free.

As to the business of the unconscious slavers, Qar can do as he pleases with them. Imprison them, let them go, it doesn't matter to Amen now. All that's important is that the ex-slaves are gone now, safe from this wretched lot. When all is said and done, Amen walks up to Qar and thanks him for his assistance. "I think... I think I know what it is that I wish to do now. We should return to the palace. I'm sure we've kept the others waiting for long enough." Amen tells Qar.

Satiah's words regarding how the speech should be approached did little to convince the stubborn old vizier that is Aperel. It certainly didn't help that her comment calling him "Vizier Apple" and an "asshole" still rings soundly in his mind. Her stance is still that of a speech that would reflect Amen and who he is as a person, backing her ideal with the claim that those who wish to ally themselves with Amen will do so and those who oppose can be disposed, whether through means of force or other methods. How ridiculous, not to mention naive. Everything a pharaoh says or do must be backed by power. Being oneself is ultimately useless if it ends up causing trouble at the start. At this stage of Amen's reign, all he should think about is amassing power and support from the powerful. When he ultimately establishes a firm hold on the throne, that is when he can become more true to himself.

But Aperel, uncharacteristically, remains quiet. He wants to see how the priestess will react. Can she be considered an ally or not? This would be so much easier if he, alone, is Pharaoh Amenhotep's sole vizier. Not long later, Amen and Qar finally return to the study. By now, they would have two and a half hours left until the speech is due. "Pharaoh Amenhotep, words fail to describe how worried I was regarding your absence. I pray everything is alright?" Aperel immediately starts kissing Amen's ass for the umpteenth time.

Amen ignores Aperel's "concerns" and decides to address everyone in the room. "Sorry for running off. Truth be told, I had no intention of becoming Pharaoh really. Perhaps it was curiosity or maybe it was the lure of riches that got me here in the first place, but, despite it all, I still wanted to leave this place behind. However, I think I understand it a bit better now. I think there might be another reason why I accepted this responsibility. Maybe my reign will be short. Maybe not everything you'll say will get through to me. But... I think I want to try. Not for my sake, but for this kingdom. So," Amen bows to everyone, "please help me become a great Pharaoh!" Amen turns his face up to look at everyone. Alas, there is conviction in his eyes.

Oh good. Satiah was the one to return first, once again spewing nonsense. She seemed a bit...pleased about something? Nebet eyed her carefully as she spoke. Had something happened?

"I must respectfully disagree, Vizier Satiah." Nebet said with a sigh. "If you show who Pharoah Amen is at 'face value' as you say, it will put no one into complacency and it will certainly not make those seeking to ally with him wish to ally with him more. You do not understand how people work - how the nobles work, Satiah." Nebet's voice was firm, she was not budging on this matter at all. "I have been around both the poor, the nobles, and even slaves - almost was one myself on multiple occasions when I was the Pharaoh's age." She continued, standing up from the seat for the first time since they started this conversation. "I do not claim to be an expert on the matters, quite the contrary, but I know how the nobles work and how to make people in general complacent and look the other way with some pretty words." That was all she was going to elaborate, however, though she was fairly certain her history wasn't exactly all that difficult to find out about.

"Yes, impressions will be skewed since the beginning, but that is why it is our job to correct such skewed perceptions of him." Her voice carried a definite bit of annoyance in it by now. She was so very tired of repeating herself to this...slave. While Nebet wasn't for or against it as long as it was lawful, there was nothing inherently wrong with it in her opinion. "What you suggest, is painting a target on his back. Those who do not like him, will certainly seek to 'remove' him and some might see his inexperience as an excuse not to ally with him when they otherwise would. Those of the court have far more power than you realize, Satiah. Even the mere suggestion of 'beating' them up is pure folly - you would have the allies of them easily use that as propaganda against the young Pharoah and then you'd even potentially have the people even turned against us."

Nebet had walked around to the table now, standing quite close to Satiah.

"But I am fairly certain you would just suggest beating them up again, hmm? You know what sort of rulers solve everything with violence? Tyrants. You know what that would look like to other kingdoms? Tyranny to most of them. What you suggest could and likely will eventually lead to armies at our doorstep and then we'd be outnumbered ten to one and there would be nothing we could do about it. Especially of those nobles you 'nip in the bud' ally themselves with other kingdoms and the loyal people following them. You do nothing but suggest events that would bring the serpent of chaos at our doorstep. I think-"

Satiah was lucky that was the exact moment Qar and Amen decided to return. Nebet was too, really. If she kept talking she might have very well just slapped Satiah hard enough to hopefully put some logical sense into that thick skull of hers. Instead though, she reigned in her tongue, and forced herself into silence. She would not fight with the other viziers, especially in front of the Pharoah. Instead, she simply walked back towards her previous seat in silence as Aperel proceeded to once again prove how much of a suck up he was.

While Nebet did agree with him on a number of things, he was certainly not to be trusted. Anyone who kissed up to someone to such a degree was only looking to better themselves. Nebet simply listened silently, mentally going over the embalming procedures and mentally reciting a few scriptures - it always helped to calm her nerves and annoyance levels, though she made sure to keep her ears open. She was both surprised and relieved to hear what the Pharoah said. She turned her head to Amen, narrowing her eyes slightly.

He seemed convicted now, at least which was good, but what brought this on?

"While that is wonderful news Pharoah Amen...could I ask what brought this on? I do not mean to pry, but it seems like something has happened or am I wrong?" One didn't get to live as long as she did in her previous line of profession without at least a healthy dose of skepticism, observance, and even a little mistrust. Reading people were just one thing someone had to do often, and judging from Satiah's body language and this sudden change of events, something seemed a bit...off.