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It was no small secret that the many preparations he oversaw in the wake of his announcement for war had put him under a considerable amount of stress. He was terse and easily provoked by the smallest of inconveniences. Even his beloved Isis was avoiding him. He did not blame her, of course, for he knew he was rather unpleasant to be around during these times. He had scarcely seen the queen, though that was his own doing. A great decision regarding her future was burdening him and he was certain her pettishness would quickly sour him against ruling in her favor. She was still a child in his eyes, a petulant child, but she was to be his queen for the foreseeable future, and it was high time she act like it.
Before that could happen, however, certain pieces needed to be put in place.
His summons to Zoser had come shortly after he could no longer bear to look at the scrolls in front of him. Yes, yes, progress was being made in light of his newest orders, and that was all he needed to know. He had requested frequent updates, but now, just seeing those papers irritated him. He knocked them all off the table before him with a brutal sweep of the arm and snapped at the servant who tried to pick them up. “Find Zoser of Thebes and tell him I require an audience! Out, you foolish boy!” he barked, somewhat pleased the boy made himself scarce soon after.
He turned to the men who stood posted at the opening of the study. “If it is not Zoser of Thebes who approaches, do not disturb me -- send them away.” And that was all he needed to say. They would obey his orders and he would not hear from them again lest it was his most trusted adviser who came to them.
He began to pace as the seconds ticked by. Stress did not make him a patient man. He constantly found his gaze directed towards the doors. Zoser knew better than to keep him waiting when he was in such a volatile state. So what exactly was taking so long? In truth, perhaps only a minute or two had passed, but to the King of Kings, it was entirely too long. He expected things now, now, now! No one could move fast enough. They were all slow, slow, slow! He thought it would be best if he hunt down his adviser himself, until one of his guards attempted to speak up.
“Was I not clear you blasted fool?” He roared with anger.
His mouth was open, poised to continue to go off, until he finally turned around to see who stood there. Taking a breath, he ran a hand over his head.
“Ah, Zoser,” he said, “come in, come in. We have much to discuss.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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War.
It was no small secret that the many preparations he oversaw in the wake of his announcement for war had put him under a considerable amount of stress. He was terse and easily provoked by the smallest of inconveniences. Even his beloved Isis was avoiding him. He did not blame her, of course, for he knew he was rather unpleasant to be around during these times. He had scarcely seen the queen, though that was his own doing. A great decision regarding her future was burdening him and he was certain her pettishness would quickly sour him against ruling in her favor. She was still a child in his eyes, a petulant child, but she was to be his queen for the foreseeable future, and it was high time she act like it.
Before that could happen, however, certain pieces needed to be put in place.
His summons to Zoser had come shortly after he could no longer bear to look at the scrolls in front of him. Yes, yes, progress was being made in light of his newest orders, and that was all he needed to know. He had requested frequent updates, but now, just seeing those papers irritated him. He knocked them all off the table before him with a brutal sweep of the arm and snapped at the servant who tried to pick them up. “Find Zoser of Thebes and tell him I require an audience! Out, you foolish boy!” he barked, somewhat pleased the boy made himself scarce soon after.
He turned to the men who stood posted at the opening of the study. “If it is not Zoser of Thebes who approaches, do not disturb me -- send them away.” And that was all he needed to say. They would obey his orders and he would not hear from them again lest it was his most trusted adviser who came to them.
He began to pace as the seconds ticked by. Stress did not make him a patient man. He constantly found his gaze directed towards the doors. Zoser knew better than to keep him waiting when he was in such a volatile state. So what exactly was taking so long? In truth, perhaps only a minute or two had passed, but to the King of Kings, it was entirely too long. He expected things now, now, now! No one could move fast enough. They were all slow, slow, slow! He thought it would be best if he hunt down his adviser himself, until one of his guards attempted to speak up.
“Was I not clear you blasted fool?” He roared with anger.
His mouth was open, poised to continue to go off, until he finally turned around to see who stood there. Taking a breath, he ran a hand over his head.
“Ah, Zoser,” he said, “come in, come in. We have much to discuss.”
War.
It was no small secret that the many preparations he oversaw in the wake of his announcement for war had put him under a considerable amount of stress. He was terse and easily provoked by the smallest of inconveniences. Even his beloved Isis was avoiding him. He did not blame her, of course, for he knew he was rather unpleasant to be around during these times. He had scarcely seen the queen, though that was his own doing. A great decision regarding her future was burdening him and he was certain her pettishness would quickly sour him against ruling in her favor. She was still a child in his eyes, a petulant child, but she was to be his queen for the foreseeable future, and it was high time she act like it.
Before that could happen, however, certain pieces needed to be put in place.
His summons to Zoser had come shortly after he could no longer bear to look at the scrolls in front of him. Yes, yes, progress was being made in light of his newest orders, and that was all he needed to know. He had requested frequent updates, but now, just seeing those papers irritated him. He knocked them all off the table before him with a brutal sweep of the arm and snapped at the servant who tried to pick them up. “Find Zoser of Thebes and tell him I require an audience! Out, you foolish boy!” he barked, somewhat pleased the boy made himself scarce soon after.
He turned to the men who stood posted at the opening of the study. “If it is not Zoser of Thebes who approaches, do not disturb me -- send them away.” And that was all he needed to say. They would obey his orders and he would not hear from them again lest it was his most trusted adviser who came to them.
He began to pace as the seconds ticked by. Stress did not make him a patient man. He constantly found his gaze directed towards the doors. Zoser knew better than to keep him waiting when he was in such a volatile state. So what exactly was taking so long? In truth, perhaps only a minute or two had passed, but to the King of Kings, it was entirely too long. He expected things now, now, now! No one could move fast enough. They were all slow, slow, slow! He thought it would be best if he hunt down his adviser himself, until one of his guards attempted to speak up.
“Was I not clear you blasted fool?” He roared with anger.
His mouth was open, poised to continue to go off, until he finally turned around to see who stood there. Taking a breath, he ran a hand over his head.
“Ah, Zoser,” he said, “come in, come in. We have much to discuss.”
Since his return from Judea, events and announcements had been non-stop, with his duties being stretched thin between his role as an advisor to the Crown, a liaison between the Heis and the Palace, and in cataloguing and maintaining records to keep up with the rapid changes that war could bring. In short, Zoser often wished he could be in more place than once - but that was impossible.
No sooner had he returned from another visit with local Hei, Zoser had hardly had a moment to set down his satchel and reach for a quick bite of bread and butter before a rather terrified looking servant appeared at his side.
Several rapid thoughts flashed through his mind - the Queen? Was all well?? After her fainting spell at Saraaya Hakiaddad, he had consistently worried about her, though his thoughts on it remained silent and manifested only in an oft-furrowed brow as he sat in thought. No, from the particular spark of fear in the young man's eyes, there was no doubting the summons.
"Breathe, boy," Zoser told the young man, who stood gasping for air and seemed nearly on the edge of a mental break before Zoser guided him to a seat and sent one of his scribes to fetch honeyed water.
This was not the first of such occasions.
In the months since the Royal Wedding between Queen Hatshepsut and the former-General, now-Pharaoh Iahotep, other such instances had been sparking throughout the Palace. Fear ran rampant like a fever through the ranks of the Palace, affecting not just the staff, but others who found themselves within proximity of the Pharaoh and the fickle instability of his moods.
It was an odd twist of fate that the young merchant's son that he met on foreign shores all those years ago would become the ruler of the Kingdom that, at the time, Zoser never thought he would see again. They shared nearly the same age and common-born blood. It had connected them in an odd sense - not friendship but camaraderie, a relation that kept either of them from seeing each other entirely by the barriers of their newfound stations two decades later.
Despite all that, the bellow from within set Zoser's jaw on edge slightly, and he found his spine straightening. Though they had their few tendrils of connections that framed their interactions with an unintentional closeness, Zoser found himself overtly wary of the new Pharaoh, particularly knowing what he knew.
His thoughts flickered briefly on Queen Hatshepsut and Lady Neithotep, knowing the dark secrets that should have been beyond his scope of knowledge. His blood boiled and the bile rose in his throat for a moment, his mind flickering over the bruises that he had seen on the young Lady H'Sheifa....and only imagining what may have happened to his beloved songbird. As if he feared those thoughts would be read on the surface, he brushed them away as he garnered entranced into the Pharaoh's chambers.
The Pharaoh's tone shifted as Zoser entered, and the Scribe bowed deeply and rose with a smile that was half-natural, half-feigned.
"King of Kings," Zoser addressed formally, though his smile still clung to whatever benefits of their shared history would allow this more amicable mood to remain. It did not take much to notice the papers that littered the floor, clearly flung from the desk in a fit. Without addressing the state of things, Zoser stepped forward with the confidence of an advisor and old friend to ask, "How may I be of service?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Since his return from Judea, events and announcements had been non-stop, with his duties being stretched thin between his role as an advisor to the Crown, a liaison between the Heis and the Palace, and in cataloguing and maintaining records to keep up with the rapid changes that war could bring. In short, Zoser often wished he could be in more place than once - but that was impossible.
No sooner had he returned from another visit with local Hei, Zoser had hardly had a moment to set down his satchel and reach for a quick bite of bread and butter before a rather terrified looking servant appeared at his side.
Several rapid thoughts flashed through his mind - the Queen? Was all well?? After her fainting spell at Saraaya Hakiaddad, he had consistently worried about her, though his thoughts on it remained silent and manifested only in an oft-furrowed brow as he sat in thought. No, from the particular spark of fear in the young man's eyes, there was no doubting the summons.
"Breathe, boy," Zoser told the young man, who stood gasping for air and seemed nearly on the edge of a mental break before Zoser guided him to a seat and sent one of his scribes to fetch honeyed water.
This was not the first of such occasions.
In the months since the Royal Wedding between Queen Hatshepsut and the former-General, now-Pharaoh Iahotep, other such instances had been sparking throughout the Palace. Fear ran rampant like a fever through the ranks of the Palace, affecting not just the staff, but others who found themselves within proximity of the Pharaoh and the fickle instability of his moods.
It was an odd twist of fate that the young merchant's son that he met on foreign shores all those years ago would become the ruler of the Kingdom that, at the time, Zoser never thought he would see again. They shared nearly the same age and common-born blood. It had connected them in an odd sense - not friendship but camaraderie, a relation that kept either of them from seeing each other entirely by the barriers of their newfound stations two decades later.
Despite all that, the bellow from within set Zoser's jaw on edge slightly, and he found his spine straightening. Though they had their few tendrils of connections that framed their interactions with an unintentional closeness, Zoser found himself overtly wary of the new Pharaoh, particularly knowing what he knew.
His thoughts flickered briefly on Queen Hatshepsut and Lady Neithotep, knowing the dark secrets that should have been beyond his scope of knowledge. His blood boiled and the bile rose in his throat for a moment, his mind flickering over the bruises that he had seen on the young Lady H'Sheifa....and only imagining what may have happened to his beloved songbird. As if he feared those thoughts would be read on the surface, he brushed them away as he garnered entranced into the Pharaoh's chambers.
The Pharaoh's tone shifted as Zoser entered, and the Scribe bowed deeply and rose with a smile that was half-natural, half-feigned.
"King of Kings," Zoser addressed formally, though his smile still clung to whatever benefits of their shared history would allow this more amicable mood to remain. It did not take much to notice the papers that littered the floor, clearly flung from the desk in a fit. Without addressing the state of things, Zoser stepped forward with the confidence of an advisor and old friend to ask, "How may I be of service?"
Since his return from Judea, events and announcements had been non-stop, with his duties being stretched thin between his role as an advisor to the Crown, a liaison between the Heis and the Palace, and in cataloguing and maintaining records to keep up with the rapid changes that war could bring. In short, Zoser often wished he could be in more place than once - but that was impossible.
No sooner had he returned from another visit with local Hei, Zoser had hardly had a moment to set down his satchel and reach for a quick bite of bread and butter before a rather terrified looking servant appeared at his side.
Several rapid thoughts flashed through his mind - the Queen? Was all well?? After her fainting spell at Saraaya Hakiaddad, he had consistently worried about her, though his thoughts on it remained silent and manifested only in an oft-furrowed brow as he sat in thought. No, from the particular spark of fear in the young man's eyes, there was no doubting the summons.
"Breathe, boy," Zoser told the young man, who stood gasping for air and seemed nearly on the edge of a mental break before Zoser guided him to a seat and sent one of his scribes to fetch honeyed water.
This was not the first of such occasions.
In the months since the Royal Wedding between Queen Hatshepsut and the former-General, now-Pharaoh Iahotep, other such instances had been sparking throughout the Palace. Fear ran rampant like a fever through the ranks of the Palace, affecting not just the staff, but others who found themselves within proximity of the Pharaoh and the fickle instability of his moods.
It was an odd twist of fate that the young merchant's son that he met on foreign shores all those years ago would become the ruler of the Kingdom that, at the time, Zoser never thought he would see again. They shared nearly the same age and common-born blood. It had connected them in an odd sense - not friendship but camaraderie, a relation that kept either of them from seeing each other entirely by the barriers of their newfound stations two decades later.
Despite all that, the bellow from within set Zoser's jaw on edge slightly, and he found his spine straightening. Though they had their few tendrils of connections that framed their interactions with an unintentional closeness, Zoser found himself overtly wary of the new Pharaoh, particularly knowing what he knew.
His thoughts flickered briefly on Queen Hatshepsut and Lady Neithotep, knowing the dark secrets that should have been beyond his scope of knowledge. His blood boiled and the bile rose in his throat for a moment, his mind flickering over the bruises that he had seen on the young Lady H'Sheifa....and only imagining what may have happened to his beloved songbird. As if he feared those thoughts would be read on the surface, he brushed them away as he garnered entranced into the Pharaoh's chambers.
The Pharaoh's tone shifted as Zoser entered, and the Scribe bowed deeply and rose with a smile that was half-natural, half-feigned.
"King of Kings," Zoser addressed formally, though his smile still clung to whatever benefits of their shared history would allow this more amicable mood to remain. It did not take much to notice the papers that littered the floor, clearly flung from the desk in a fit. Without addressing the state of things, Zoser stepped forward with the confidence of an advisor and old friend to ask, "How may I be of service?"
Iahotep never imagined he would be a great Pharaoh, let alone one that was preparing to bring war to the Greeks. He was a merchant’s son, that was all. A son who once believed that one’s worth was determined by what they could give to others. How the times had changed him. He’d become a hardened man, to whom cruelty was second nature. He had no friends, only allies who had yet to betray him. Well, almost no friends. Zoser of Thebes was the closest thing to a best friend Iahotep would most likely ever have. Many of his former companions died on the battlefield. Iahotep did not grieve them. He never grieved. If the Gods had decided it was their time, then what was he to do about it? Tears would not bring them back.
In any event, Zoser was a welcome sight. Iahotep merely nodded his head to his adviser before he delved into business. “There are enemies to the throne,” he began, “the attempt on my life is evidence of that.” Of course, he knew they would always exist, but one or more of them had been willing to try and end his reign prematurely. He would put an end to that idea. “It is important the people know I am not merely sending their loved ones to death for my amusement. I will be going to war for a time -- this is where I have use of you.”
“The poison met for my lips could easily have been in the hands of the Queen. I intend to let her rule in my absence. There are, however, plans that must be put into place.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “The palace guards cannot be trusted to protect her or our child -- their loyalties may be bought. I have decided to charge Osorsen with selected his most trustworthy men to protect them. You will inform him of this decision with haste.”
“Then there is the matter of removing the Queen and Queen Dowager from the palace and by extension, the city should it be sieged. I have ordered plans to be drawn up detailing when and how they are to be extracted, which has been sealed, and awaits your opening. You are to accompany them in the event this occurs with priority to the Queen. Should anything happen to her, I will see to it that you regret your lack of vigilance.” Perhaps the threat was not needed, but Iahotep intended for his meaning to be as clear as the evening sky. Failure was not an option.
“Finally, I must inquire what whispers float around my court. What say they to the war, if anything? Are there rumors of sedition? How do they view the Queen’s illness?” His questions were almost rushed in their delivery, but he retained some semblance of composure by hiding behind a tight lipped smile that was neither welcoming or friendly. Truthfully, he was on the verge of exploding. Perhaps Zoser knew this, perhaps not, but Iahotep’s concern was that his orders were followed exactly as he as prescribed. Now was not the time for error. Now was not the time for anything but ‘yes, my pharaoh’ and ‘no, my pharaoh’. Everything would go the way he had foreseen or there would be violent consequences.
The stress in his eyes intensified and an impatient anger filled him. “Well? Out with it, boy!” He snapped, for Zoser had not answered him as quickly as he demanded. The man before him was only two years his younger, but that was not a fact that concerned the King of Kings. He had been dealing with servants all day, so the slip of the tongue went unnoticed. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Iahotep never imagined he would be a great Pharaoh, let alone one that was preparing to bring war to the Greeks. He was a merchant’s son, that was all. A son who once believed that one’s worth was determined by what they could give to others. How the times had changed him. He’d become a hardened man, to whom cruelty was second nature. He had no friends, only allies who had yet to betray him. Well, almost no friends. Zoser of Thebes was the closest thing to a best friend Iahotep would most likely ever have. Many of his former companions died on the battlefield. Iahotep did not grieve them. He never grieved. If the Gods had decided it was their time, then what was he to do about it? Tears would not bring them back.
In any event, Zoser was a welcome sight. Iahotep merely nodded his head to his adviser before he delved into business. “There are enemies to the throne,” he began, “the attempt on my life is evidence of that.” Of course, he knew they would always exist, but one or more of them had been willing to try and end his reign prematurely. He would put an end to that idea. “It is important the people know I am not merely sending their loved ones to death for my amusement. I will be going to war for a time -- this is where I have use of you.”
“The poison met for my lips could easily have been in the hands of the Queen. I intend to let her rule in my absence. There are, however, plans that must be put into place.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “The palace guards cannot be trusted to protect her or our child -- their loyalties may be bought. I have decided to charge Osorsen with selected his most trustworthy men to protect them. You will inform him of this decision with haste.”
“Then there is the matter of removing the Queen and Queen Dowager from the palace and by extension, the city should it be sieged. I have ordered plans to be drawn up detailing when and how they are to be extracted, which has been sealed, and awaits your opening. You are to accompany them in the event this occurs with priority to the Queen. Should anything happen to her, I will see to it that you regret your lack of vigilance.” Perhaps the threat was not needed, but Iahotep intended for his meaning to be as clear as the evening sky. Failure was not an option.
“Finally, I must inquire what whispers float around my court. What say they to the war, if anything? Are there rumors of sedition? How do they view the Queen’s illness?” His questions were almost rushed in their delivery, but he retained some semblance of composure by hiding behind a tight lipped smile that was neither welcoming or friendly. Truthfully, he was on the verge of exploding. Perhaps Zoser knew this, perhaps not, but Iahotep’s concern was that his orders were followed exactly as he as prescribed. Now was not the time for error. Now was not the time for anything but ‘yes, my pharaoh’ and ‘no, my pharaoh’. Everything would go the way he had foreseen or there would be violent consequences.
The stress in his eyes intensified and an impatient anger filled him. “Well? Out with it, boy!” He snapped, for Zoser had not answered him as quickly as he demanded. The man before him was only two years his younger, but that was not a fact that concerned the King of Kings. He had been dealing with servants all day, so the slip of the tongue went unnoticed. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.
Iahotep never imagined he would be a great Pharaoh, let alone one that was preparing to bring war to the Greeks. He was a merchant’s son, that was all. A son who once believed that one’s worth was determined by what they could give to others. How the times had changed him. He’d become a hardened man, to whom cruelty was second nature. He had no friends, only allies who had yet to betray him. Well, almost no friends. Zoser of Thebes was the closest thing to a best friend Iahotep would most likely ever have. Many of his former companions died on the battlefield. Iahotep did not grieve them. He never grieved. If the Gods had decided it was their time, then what was he to do about it? Tears would not bring them back.
In any event, Zoser was a welcome sight. Iahotep merely nodded his head to his adviser before he delved into business. “There are enemies to the throne,” he began, “the attempt on my life is evidence of that.” Of course, he knew they would always exist, but one or more of them had been willing to try and end his reign prematurely. He would put an end to that idea. “It is important the people know I am not merely sending their loved ones to death for my amusement. I will be going to war for a time -- this is where I have use of you.”
“The poison met for my lips could easily have been in the hands of the Queen. I intend to let her rule in my absence. There are, however, plans that must be put into place.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “The palace guards cannot be trusted to protect her or our child -- their loyalties may be bought. I have decided to charge Osorsen with selected his most trustworthy men to protect them. You will inform him of this decision with haste.”
“Then there is the matter of removing the Queen and Queen Dowager from the palace and by extension, the city should it be sieged. I have ordered plans to be drawn up detailing when and how they are to be extracted, which has been sealed, and awaits your opening. You are to accompany them in the event this occurs with priority to the Queen. Should anything happen to her, I will see to it that you regret your lack of vigilance.” Perhaps the threat was not needed, but Iahotep intended for his meaning to be as clear as the evening sky. Failure was not an option.
“Finally, I must inquire what whispers float around my court. What say they to the war, if anything? Are there rumors of sedition? How do they view the Queen’s illness?” His questions were almost rushed in their delivery, but he retained some semblance of composure by hiding behind a tight lipped smile that was neither welcoming or friendly. Truthfully, he was on the verge of exploding. Perhaps Zoser knew this, perhaps not, but Iahotep’s concern was that his orders were followed exactly as he as prescribed. Now was not the time for error. Now was not the time for anything but ‘yes, my pharaoh’ and ‘no, my pharaoh’. Everything would go the way he had foreseen or there would be violent consequences.
The stress in his eyes intensified and an impatient anger filled him. “Well? Out with it, boy!” He snapped, for Zoser had not answered him as quickly as he demanded. The man before him was only two years his younger, but that was not a fact that concerned the King of Kings. He had been dealing with servants all day, so the slip of the tongue went unnoticed. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.
Though not a military man, Zoser knew there was a sense of decorum to be held in his position when presented before the King of Kings, and he stood at a form of loose attention before Pharaoh Iahotep. Yet, there was always that flicker of knowledge and memory that, at one time, their roles in this world were not so dissimilar once. In fact, not all that long ago, it could have been argued that the sway and influence that Zoser had upon the crown far outweighed Iahotep's even up until the marriage had been arranged.
Nodding solemnly as the Pharaoh noted the attempt on his life and his lips remained pressed together lightly, knowing that he would not speak until asked to do so. There was a tension in the air, particularly noted in the way the young man had been sent to fetch him, that this was a particularly volatile mood for the Pharaoh today. It was best not to press matters.
Thankfully, as the Pharoah spoke, his eyes seemed to glance about in preoccupation, particularly at mentioning that General Osorsen would be the one to select the Queen's new guards. Zoser swallowed almost imperceptibly, a few fluttering thoughts of concern tightening his jaw ever so slightly. Was this because of his nephew's actions at the war announcement? Or...was there something Iahotep knew or suspected? Could that be why he chose Osorsen to choose the guards? He mused on all of those questions for a while before nodding.
Dipping his head at the initial plans in the case the city should be seiged, Zoser nearly spoke to swear upon it, his lips parting ever so slightly when the Pharoah issued his soft threat. Zoser blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as he did so, the faintest shadow of a grin on his lips.
Was...he in jest?
Zoser and Iahotep had known each other for nearly a dozen years now, and the issuance of such threats on the end of several orders that Zoser had no intention of disobeying did not sit well with him. No, he was not a man of noble blood, but neither was Iahotep.
Simmering beneath the surface of that all yet stoked with the passing threat, Zoser's mind immediately went to Lady Neithotep and the Queen herself - knowing full well that the Pharaoh had acted on his threats in those circumstances. He was a volatile man, even as a common-born military leader, but now? Issuing threats to one who had been at his side since he ascended to the throne? It smacked strongly of disrespect and power-hungry hubris.
Zoser did not like it.
On top of that, the raising tension with each question, plus the unwarranted snap and use of the term 'boy' sent Zoser's face contorting in disbelief a moment, brows furrowing a moment and a rather forced, courtier smile pressing through with a soft laugh.
Thank the gods his back was to the guards, two men Zoser had known for quite some time. They did not know the history between himself and the new Pharaoh, but even know, seeing the man's tension, he did not want to dance with fire.
Instead, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, he glanced back to the guards a moment then to the Pharaoh a moment before tilting his head towards a window that overlooked the city, as if to gain more distance from them to speak in closer confidence - a diffusing mood.
If the Pharaoh felt he gained something he wanted, perhaps this mood would pass - or more importantly, he could find some weakness in the man's posed armor that could help not only himself but Lady Neithotep and Queen Hatshepsut.
This had quickly become a game.
"Know that I have the Queen's best interest at heart, old friend, the same way I have for nearly ten years," he started, as if reassuring the man that no harm would befall the Queen or Queen Dowager under his charge, thus needing no insult or threat, "If anyone understands the importance of ensuring her safety for the sake of our Kingdom, I do."
"There have been plenty of talk on the impending war, many are excited by the prospects of military glory and rising in status. Our merchants are concerned, as there has not been much in the way of restricting goods since the treaty was enacted..." He paused a moment, thinking of the Greek wine merchant he shared several glasses with not long ago, but continued, "Yet, it is something we can overcome, and could spell bounty for us with a victory."
Zoser finally crossed and leaned against the stone curve of the window, looking down along the ships that perched on glistening water. Soon, those would be carrying supplies north for the war effort.
"War has not presented itself here in ten years and many of our kingdom may not carry the memory of the hardship that rides along with the glory of war. They should be advised to prepare."
"As for the wellness of the Queen," Zoser began, pausing as he turned to face the King of Kings as he measured his words in his mind. This was a careful balance, between allowing his personal feelings to push through - sticking very strongly to the facts that were well-known. "Queen Hatshepsut is most beloved by her people, as she has been since her birth. She is the Jewel of the Nile, a gift from the gods above, and the people know that. I am assured by women who have broached motherhood and the physicians that these bouts of illness are common in the early months of being with child and are simply the body's way of coping with new life growing within it."
Zoser grinned, as if to tease the Pharaoh a moment on the matter, "There are many women in the Kingdom, My Pharaoh. So, certainly, at least half of the population understands her plight."
Raising a brow before dipping his head into a bow, he asked lightly, "Does that offer you comfort, Pharaoh?"
Hoping to the gods that this extent of information and attempts at diffusing his mood were useful, Zoser held a pleasant expression the same way someone would hold a crying child - very carefully.
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Though not a military man, Zoser knew there was a sense of decorum to be held in his position when presented before the King of Kings, and he stood at a form of loose attention before Pharaoh Iahotep. Yet, there was always that flicker of knowledge and memory that, at one time, their roles in this world were not so dissimilar once. In fact, not all that long ago, it could have been argued that the sway and influence that Zoser had upon the crown far outweighed Iahotep's even up until the marriage had been arranged.
Nodding solemnly as the Pharaoh noted the attempt on his life and his lips remained pressed together lightly, knowing that he would not speak until asked to do so. There was a tension in the air, particularly noted in the way the young man had been sent to fetch him, that this was a particularly volatile mood for the Pharaoh today. It was best not to press matters.
Thankfully, as the Pharoah spoke, his eyes seemed to glance about in preoccupation, particularly at mentioning that General Osorsen would be the one to select the Queen's new guards. Zoser swallowed almost imperceptibly, a few fluttering thoughts of concern tightening his jaw ever so slightly. Was this because of his nephew's actions at the war announcement? Or...was there something Iahotep knew or suspected? Could that be why he chose Osorsen to choose the guards? He mused on all of those questions for a while before nodding.
Dipping his head at the initial plans in the case the city should be seiged, Zoser nearly spoke to swear upon it, his lips parting ever so slightly when the Pharoah issued his soft threat. Zoser blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as he did so, the faintest shadow of a grin on his lips.
Was...he in jest?
Zoser and Iahotep had known each other for nearly a dozen years now, and the issuance of such threats on the end of several orders that Zoser had no intention of disobeying did not sit well with him. No, he was not a man of noble blood, but neither was Iahotep.
Simmering beneath the surface of that all yet stoked with the passing threat, Zoser's mind immediately went to Lady Neithotep and the Queen herself - knowing full well that the Pharaoh had acted on his threats in those circumstances. He was a volatile man, even as a common-born military leader, but now? Issuing threats to one who had been at his side since he ascended to the throne? It smacked strongly of disrespect and power-hungry hubris.
Zoser did not like it.
On top of that, the raising tension with each question, plus the unwarranted snap and use of the term 'boy' sent Zoser's face contorting in disbelief a moment, brows furrowing a moment and a rather forced, courtier smile pressing through with a soft laugh.
Thank the gods his back was to the guards, two men Zoser had known for quite some time. They did not know the history between himself and the new Pharaoh, but even know, seeing the man's tension, he did not want to dance with fire.
Instead, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, he glanced back to the guards a moment then to the Pharaoh a moment before tilting his head towards a window that overlooked the city, as if to gain more distance from them to speak in closer confidence - a diffusing mood.
If the Pharaoh felt he gained something he wanted, perhaps this mood would pass - or more importantly, he could find some weakness in the man's posed armor that could help not only himself but Lady Neithotep and Queen Hatshepsut.
This had quickly become a game.
"Know that I have the Queen's best interest at heart, old friend, the same way I have for nearly ten years," he started, as if reassuring the man that no harm would befall the Queen or Queen Dowager under his charge, thus needing no insult or threat, "If anyone understands the importance of ensuring her safety for the sake of our Kingdom, I do."
"There have been plenty of talk on the impending war, many are excited by the prospects of military glory and rising in status. Our merchants are concerned, as there has not been much in the way of restricting goods since the treaty was enacted..." He paused a moment, thinking of the Greek wine merchant he shared several glasses with not long ago, but continued, "Yet, it is something we can overcome, and could spell bounty for us with a victory."
Zoser finally crossed and leaned against the stone curve of the window, looking down along the ships that perched on glistening water. Soon, those would be carrying supplies north for the war effort.
"War has not presented itself here in ten years and many of our kingdom may not carry the memory of the hardship that rides along with the glory of war. They should be advised to prepare."
"As for the wellness of the Queen," Zoser began, pausing as he turned to face the King of Kings as he measured his words in his mind. This was a careful balance, between allowing his personal feelings to push through - sticking very strongly to the facts that were well-known. "Queen Hatshepsut is most beloved by her people, as she has been since her birth. She is the Jewel of the Nile, a gift from the gods above, and the people know that. I am assured by women who have broached motherhood and the physicians that these bouts of illness are common in the early months of being with child and are simply the body's way of coping with new life growing within it."
Zoser grinned, as if to tease the Pharaoh a moment on the matter, "There are many women in the Kingdom, My Pharaoh. So, certainly, at least half of the population understands her plight."
Raising a brow before dipping his head into a bow, he asked lightly, "Does that offer you comfort, Pharaoh?"
Hoping to the gods that this extent of information and attempts at diffusing his mood were useful, Zoser held a pleasant expression the same way someone would hold a crying child - very carefully.
Though not a military man, Zoser knew there was a sense of decorum to be held in his position when presented before the King of Kings, and he stood at a form of loose attention before Pharaoh Iahotep. Yet, there was always that flicker of knowledge and memory that, at one time, their roles in this world were not so dissimilar once. In fact, not all that long ago, it could have been argued that the sway and influence that Zoser had upon the crown far outweighed Iahotep's even up until the marriage had been arranged.
Nodding solemnly as the Pharaoh noted the attempt on his life and his lips remained pressed together lightly, knowing that he would not speak until asked to do so. There was a tension in the air, particularly noted in the way the young man had been sent to fetch him, that this was a particularly volatile mood for the Pharaoh today. It was best not to press matters.
Thankfully, as the Pharoah spoke, his eyes seemed to glance about in preoccupation, particularly at mentioning that General Osorsen would be the one to select the Queen's new guards. Zoser swallowed almost imperceptibly, a few fluttering thoughts of concern tightening his jaw ever so slightly. Was this because of his nephew's actions at the war announcement? Or...was there something Iahotep knew or suspected? Could that be why he chose Osorsen to choose the guards? He mused on all of those questions for a while before nodding.
Dipping his head at the initial plans in the case the city should be seiged, Zoser nearly spoke to swear upon it, his lips parting ever so slightly when the Pharoah issued his soft threat. Zoser blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as he did so, the faintest shadow of a grin on his lips.
Was...he in jest?
Zoser and Iahotep had known each other for nearly a dozen years now, and the issuance of such threats on the end of several orders that Zoser had no intention of disobeying did not sit well with him. No, he was not a man of noble blood, but neither was Iahotep.
Simmering beneath the surface of that all yet stoked with the passing threat, Zoser's mind immediately went to Lady Neithotep and the Queen herself - knowing full well that the Pharaoh had acted on his threats in those circumstances. He was a volatile man, even as a common-born military leader, but now? Issuing threats to one who had been at his side since he ascended to the throne? It smacked strongly of disrespect and power-hungry hubris.
Zoser did not like it.
On top of that, the raising tension with each question, plus the unwarranted snap and use of the term 'boy' sent Zoser's face contorting in disbelief a moment, brows furrowing a moment and a rather forced, courtier smile pressing through with a soft laugh.
Thank the gods his back was to the guards, two men Zoser had known for quite some time. They did not know the history between himself and the new Pharaoh, but even know, seeing the man's tension, he did not want to dance with fire.
Instead, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, he glanced back to the guards a moment then to the Pharaoh a moment before tilting his head towards a window that overlooked the city, as if to gain more distance from them to speak in closer confidence - a diffusing mood.
If the Pharaoh felt he gained something he wanted, perhaps this mood would pass - or more importantly, he could find some weakness in the man's posed armor that could help not only himself but Lady Neithotep and Queen Hatshepsut.
This had quickly become a game.
"Know that I have the Queen's best interest at heart, old friend, the same way I have for nearly ten years," he started, as if reassuring the man that no harm would befall the Queen or Queen Dowager under his charge, thus needing no insult or threat, "If anyone understands the importance of ensuring her safety for the sake of our Kingdom, I do."
"There have been plenty of talk on the impending war, many are excited by the prospects of military glory and rising in status. Our merchants are concerned, as there has not been much in the way of restricting goods since the treaty was enacted..." He paused a moment, thinking of the Greek wine merchant he shared several glasses with not long ago, but continued, "Yet, it is something we can overcome, and could spell bounty for us with a victory."
Zoser finally crossed and leaned against the stone curve of the window, looking down along the ships that perched on glistening water. Soon, those would be carrying supplies north for the war effort.
"War has not presented itself here in ten years and many of our kingdom may not carry the memory of the hardship that rides along with the glory of war. They should be advised to prepare."
"As for the wellness of the Queen," Zoser began, pausing as he turned to face the King of Kings as he measured his words in his mind. This was a careful balance, between allowing his personal feelings to push through - sticking very strongly to the facts that were well-known. "Queen Hatshepsut is most beloved by her people, as she has been since her birth. She is the Jewel of the Nile, a gift from the gods above, and the people know that. I am assured by women who have broached motherhood and the physicians that these bouts of illness are common in the early months of being with child and are simply the body's way of coping with new life growing within it."
Zoser grinned, as if to tease the Pharaoh a moment on the matter, "There are many women in the Kingdom, My Pharaoh. So, certainly, at least half of the population understands her plight."
Raising a brow before dipping his head into a bow, he asked lightly, "Does that offer you comfort, Pharaoh?"
Hoping to the gods that this extent of information and attempts at diffusing his mood were useful, Zoser held a pleasant expression the same way someone would hold a crying child - very carefully.
Truly, Iahotep was in the presence of a friend. A friend who was not slain on the battlefield or revealed to be a traitor. He should have been grateful that Zoser has proven to be one of loyal few. Loyalty was what he required now more than ever, and yet, as he watched his dear friend, Iahotep felt nothing but a boiling rage that made him sick to the stomach. The reaction Zoser had to his threat- no, promise -- infuriated Iahotep. How dare he? It was the laughter that made the King of Kings sneer with disgust. How dare he? Iahotep balled his fists tightly to keep himself from striking his adviser right then and there. Now was not the time for violence, however tempting the prospect was.
“Do you, my friend?” Iahotep questioned without a hint of kindness or ease in his tone. “Your power does not rest on her survival. Your lineage does not need her to continue. You are not merely a general without her hand in marriage.” Like a viper, Iahotep eyes narrowed to slits, as he considered what he might say next. No, Zoser did not understand. Zoser was not Pharaoh, nor would he ever be. “The Queen is more precious to me than anything in the world.” Iahotep said, raising his hand to dismiss his old friend. This was a complete waste of time. Iahotep did not care about the loyalties others had to his key to power in the moment. The only thing that stopped him from dismissing Zoser altogether and returning to furiously reading scrolls was information that pleased his ears.
“Then they shall be advised.” He agreed quickly. The people were merely a means to an end at the moment, bodies for him to use in order to bring swift defeat to the Greeks. He did not care if they were not prepared for his war. They would learn soon or they would die. It did not make a difference to him.
The reminder that his Queen was so beloved by the people irritated Iahotep to no end. She was loved, for what reason exactly? Because she was born in her position? She had earned nothing. Not his respect nor the respect and love of the people, something Iahotep had begun to crave for himself. As a boy, he sneered at the idea of love, for he had not seen it’s use in other people. What a fool his wife was, to not see the power that blind devotion could bring her. Love was the reason he sought to go to war himself. Not because he loved the people, no, but because he wanted the devotion they gave his wife. He wanted to use it. He was not blind to his political enemies. How much more difficult would it be to publicly oppose him if the people were on his side?
“Yes, yes, yes,” Iahotep said waving his hand, “the Queen is loved by her people for no other reason that her birth. Were she born to anyone else but Pharaoh Imopehatsuma, they would think nothing of her. She does not deserve their love, but if they are willing to give it to her simply for her heritage, then what do you imagine they would give so someone who wins them a war? Who brings the spoils to them? Do you not understand, Zoser? I require this devotion for myself and I will have it.” Iahotep began to pace in a small circle as plan formulated in his mind.
That was, of course, until Zoser spoke of the Queen’s illness. Iahotep heard nothing but his ‘friend’ insulting his intelligence. Of course he knew there were many women in the Kingdom -- he had his pick of them of the god’s sakes! And he knew well enough that only those who mothered would understand anything of the Queen’s condition. Iahotep was already furious, but the grin nearly pushed him over the edge. Did Zoser believe this to be a joke? Iahotep failed to see the humor in any of it. This was a serious matter of utmost importance! How could Zoser possibly-
’Does that offer you comfort, Pharaoh?’
That was the final straw.
How dare this, this boy disrespect him in such a way? Mock his intellect and then question his satisfaction? Iahotep frowned deeply and remained silent for many moments. It was only after he crossed the room and wrapped his hands around his adviser’s throat that he said anything. Squeezing as tightly as he could, Iahotep stared down at Zoser with eyes void of anything but fury. “How dare you mock the King of Kings?” Iahotep inquired with a deadly edge in his tone. “How dare you?” He raised his voice substantially as he used the hold on Zoser’s throat to throw the man to the ground. Iahotep fell into a silence that lasted many moments before he said another word.
“No, no,” Iahotep shook his head as he loomed over the man on the floor, “Your insolence will be punished.”
“Men!” He called, summoning his guards into the room. “This man has insulted your Pharaoh and dares to question his intentions. I want him beaten. Now.”
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Truly, Iahotep was in the presence of a friend. A friend who was not slain on the battlefield or revealed to be a traitor. He should have been grateful that Zoser has proven to be one of loyal few. Loyalty was what he required now more than ever, and yet, as he watched his dear friend, Iahotep felt nothing but a boiling rage that made him sick to the stomach. The reaction Zoser had to his threat- no, promise -- infuriated Iahotep. How dare he? It was the laughter that made the King of Kings sneer with disgust. How dare he? Iahotep balled his fists tightly to keep himself from striking his adviser right then and there. Now was not the time for violence, however tempting the prospect was.
“Do you, my friend?” Iahotep questioned without a hint of kindness or ease in his tone. “Your power does not rest on her survival. Your lineage does not need her to continue. You are not merely a general without her hand in marriage.” Like a viper, Iahotep eyes narrowed to slits, as he considered what he might say next. No, Zoser did not understand. Zoser was not Pharaoh, nor would he ever be. “The Queen is more precious to me than anything in the world.” Iahotep said, raising his hand to dismiss his old friend. This was a complete waste of time. Iahotep did not care about the loyalties others had to his key to power in the moment. The only thing that stopped him from dismissing Zoser altogether and returning to furiously reading scrolls was information that pleased his ears.
“Then they shall be advised.” He agreed quickly. The people were merely a means to an end at the moment, bodies for him to use in order to bring swift defeat to the Greeks. He did not care if they were not prepared for his war. They would learn soon or they would die. It did not make a difference to him.
The reminder that his Queen was so beloved by the people irritated Iahotep to no end. She was loved, for what reason exactly? Because she was born in her position? She had earned nothing. Not his respect nor the respect and love of the people, something Iahotep had begun to crave for himself. As a boy, he sneered at the idea of love, for he had not seen it’s use in other people. What a fool his wife was, to not see the power that blind devotion could bring her. Love was the reason he sought to go to war himself. Not because he loved the people, no, but because he wanted the devotion they gave his wife. He wanted to use it. He was not blind to his political enemies. How much more difficult would it be to publicly oppose him if the people were on his side?
“Yes, yes, yes,” Iahotep said waving his hand, “the Queen is loved by her people for no other reason that her birth. Were she born to anyone else but Pharaoh Imopehatsuma, they would think nothing of her. She does not deserve their love, but if they are willing to give it to her simply for her heritage, then what do you imagine they would give so someone who wins them a war? Who brings the spoils to them? Do you not understand, Zoser? I require this devotion for myself and I will have it.” Iahotep began to pace in a small circle as plan formulated in his mind.
That was, of course, until Zoser spoke of the Queen’s illness. Iahotep heard nothing but his ‘friend’ insulting his intelligence. Of course he knew there were many women in the Kingdom -- he had his pick of them of the god’s sakes! And he knew well enough that only those who mothered would understand anything of the Queen’s condition. Iahotep was already furious, but the grin nearly pushed him over the edge. Did Zoser believe this to be a joke? Iahotep failed to see the humor in any of it. This was a serious matter of utmost importance! How could Zoser possibly-
’Does that offer you comfort, Pharaoh?’
That was the final straw.
How dare this, this boy disrespect him in such a way? Mock his intellect and then question his satisfaction? Iahotep frowned deeply and remained silent for many moments. It was only after he crossed the room and wrapped his hands around his adviser’s throat that he said anything. Squeezing as tightly as he could, Iahotep stared down at Zoser with eyes void of anything but fury. “How dare you mock the King of Kings?” Iahotep inquired with a deadly edge in his tone. “How dare you?” He raised his voice substantially as he used the hold on Zoser’s throat to throw the man to the ground. Iahotep fell into a silence that lasted many moments before he said another word.
“No, no,” Iahotep shook his head as he loomed over the man on the floor, “Your insolence will be punished.”
“Men!” He called, summoning his guards into the room. “This man has insulted your Pharaoh and dares to question his intentions. I want him beaten. Now.”
Truly, Iahotep was in the presence of a friend. A friend who was not slain on the battlefield or revealed to be a traitor. He should have been grateful that Zoser has proven to be one of loyal few. Loyalty was what he required now more than ever, and yet, as he watched his dear friend, Iahotep felt nothing but a boiling rage that made him sick to the stomach. The reaction Zoser had to his threat- no, promise -- infuriated Iahotep. How dare he? It was the laughter that made the King of Kings sneer with disgust. How dare he? Iahotep balled his fists tightly to keep himself from striking his adviser right then and there. Now was not the time for violence, however tempting the prospect was.
“Do you, my friend?” Iahotep questioned without a hint of kindness or ease in his tone. “Your power does not rest on her survival. Your lineage does not need her to continue. You are not merely a general without her hand in marriage.” Like a viper, Iahotep eyes narrowed to slits, as he considered what he might say next. No, Zoser did not understand. Zoser was not Pharaoh, nor would he ever be. “The Queen is more precious to me than anything in the world.” Iahotep said, raising his hand to dismiss his old friend. This was a complete waste of time. Iahotep did not care about the loyalties others had to his key to power in the moment. The only thing that stopped him from dismissing Zoser altogether and returning to furiously reading scrolls was information that pleased his ears.
“Then they shall be advised.” He agreed quickly. The people were merely a means to an end at the moment, bodies for him to use in order to bring swift defeat to the Greeks. He did not care if they were not prepared for his war. They would learn soon or they would die. It did not make a difference to him.
The reminder that his Queen was so beloved by the people irritated Iahotep to no end. She was loved, for what reason exactly? Because she was born in her position? She had earned nothing. Not his respect nor the respect and love of the people, something Iahotep had begun to crave for himself. As a boy, he sneered at the idea of love, for he had not seen it’s use in other people. What a fool his wife was, to not see the power that blind devotion could bring her. Love was the reason he sought to go to war himself. Not because he loved the people, no, but because he wanted the devotion they gave his wife. He wanted to use it. He was not blind to his political enemies. How much more difficult would it be to publicly oppose him if the people were on his side?
“Yes, yes, yes,” Iahotep said waving his hand, “the Queen is loved by her people for no other reason that her birth. Were she born to anyone else but Pharaoh Imopehatsuma, they would think nothing of her. She does not deserve their love, but if they are willing to give it to her simply for her heritage, then what do you imagine they would give so someone who wins them a war? Who brings the spoils to them? Do you not understand, Zoser? I require this devotion for myself and I will have it.” Iahotep began to pace in a small circle as plan formulated in his mind.
That was, of course, until Zoser spoke of the Queen’s illness. Iahotep heard nothing but his ‘friend’ insulting his intelligence. Of course he knew there were many women in the Kingdom -- he had his pick of them of the god’s sakes! And he knew well enough that only those who mothered would understand anything of the Queen’s condition. Iahotep was already furious, but the grin nearly pushed him over the edge. Did Zoser believe this to be a joke? Iahotep failed to see the humor in any of it. This was a serious matter of utmost importance! How could Zoser possibly-
’Does that offer you comfort, Pharaoh?’
That was the final straw.
How dare this, this boy disrespect him in such a way? Mock his intellect and then question his satisfaction? Iahotep frowned deeply and remained silent for many moments. It was only after he crossed the room and wrapped his hands around his adviser’s throat that he said anything. Squeezing as tightly as he could, Iahotep stared down at Zoser with eyes void of anything but fury. “How dare you mock the King of Kings?” Iahotep inquired with a deadly edge in his tone. “How dare you?” He raised his voice substantially as he used the hold on Zoser’s throat to throw the man to the ground. Iahotep fell into a silence that lasted many moments before he said another word.
“No, no,” Iahotep shook his head as he loomed over the man on the floor, “Your insolence will be punished.”
“Men!” He called, summoning his guards into the room. “This man has insulted your Pharaoh and dares to question his intentions. I want him beaten. Now.”
Zoser, on more than one occasion, could be considered a smart man. In his day to day business, he made calculations and projections in his mind as to how present actions could affect future circumstances. Often, these mental schemes were based on past experience. Usually, they worked.
This time, they did not.
Zoser took a calculated risk, but it did not add up. There was an immediate shift the moment the Pharaoh began to lust after the adoration that Queen Hatshepsut had. He wanted to advise the man that his novelty within his role was the only step impeding him at the moment, given that the young Queen had held the heart of her people from the time she was only as tall as his waist. But, it was safe to say that the Pharoah was in no mood to hear such things.
If Zoser had changed his tone to being more cordial in those last moments, he could have stopped this.
Instead, with eyes flung wide and knees near buckling under him from the force in which he was grabbed, Zoser knew he fucked up. For a moment, all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears like waves upon rocks, and his hand instinctively found themselves grasping helplessly at the Pharoah's grip. The scholar was no match for the soldier in this.
"N--noh...no--" Zoser croaked, the sounds of his attempts producing the most strangled wheezing squeak of a response as the air could not make it through his throat. Despite being unable to breath and all but crumbling under the grip of the Pharaoh, his mind was already at work to make this right.
Grovel. Grovel like your life depends on it.
Because it does.
The moment Zoser clattered to the ground in pile of limbs and golden ornamentation, he gasped in a few wheezing breaths, the shock of the air through his strained windpipe resulting in a sputtering cough that muddled his mind nearly more than the hands around his throat.
Zoser started to collect himself from the ground, the numbness of shock in his fingertips and feet making for a bit of a struggle as he coughed and sputtered again, nearly missing the Pharaohs words but catching the end.
'...will be punished.'
His mind immediately went to Neithotep and his blood ran cold as the reality of what she faced sank in deep into his core. The man hovering over them - one he once considered a friend - was headlong into a power trip, desperate for some validation to his position as Pharaoh as if marrying the fucking Queen was not enough. How was that not enough? Zoser had known of his cruelty on the field of battle, but this? Unheard of. Unnecessary.
Dangerous.
Zoser's head flung towards the doorway where the three guards had been standing, men whose faces had been familiar within the Palace walls, but whose stories he did not know. He regretted that now, as they obeyed the orders of the Pharaoh and stepped towards him.
"Sire, I beg forgiveness, though I do not warrant it for my words--" Zoser started, cut off briefly as the guards hooked their arms beneath his and hoisted him from the floor. The scholar was trying to compile some form of defense or perhaps a softening of this sentence. After all, he was no soldier and had hardly a layer of muscle to protect him from such injury. Soft, he had been called often, for his demeanor. In this sense, it was a synonym for coward.
Zoser did not handle pain well, as seen by the healing gash on his leg he earned in Judea. In his youth, decades ago, he could take a punch rather well, and used to be able to hold his own when wrestling the other Greek students at the festivals. His height was his only advantage, as his strength and his weight had always left something to be desired. That was long ago, and those were not formal beatings.
In all his time in the Palace, he had never once attained anything more than a shrewd snap from a noble that a few gently worded apologies and a few discreetly delivered gifts could not fix. Never had it warranted brute force against him, and he was affronted and afraid by it.
"My Pharaoh, my tone was misguided. I meant no offense, I swear before the gods!" he protested, desperately as two of the men held him by his arms. Zoser watched in horror as the third guard wheeled back and landed a solid blow against his torso.
The wind was knocked out of him and once again, he could not breath. Lips rounded agape and gasping soundlessly, begging for air to hit his lungs again, but those silent pleas went unheard as another blow landed across his ribs, again and again before a single backhand across his face was followed by a gasping fit of coughs and strangled exclamations.
The two men dropped him to collapse to the floor, but the blows continued. His arms rose to shield his face as best as it could but the men succeeded in landing blows across the back and sides of his head as well as his back in response.
It felt as though it lasted an eternity...
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Check out their information page here.
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Zoser, on more than one occasion, could be considered a smart man. In his day to day business, he made calculations and projections in his mind as to how present actions could affect future circumstances. Often, these mental schemes were based on past experience. Usually, they worked.
This time, they did not.
Zoser took a calculated risk, but it did not add up. There was an immediate shift the moment the Pharaoh began to lust after the adoration that Queen Hatshepsut had. He wanted to advise the man that his novelty within his role was the only step impeding him at the moment, given that the young Queen had held the heart of her people from the time she was only as tall as his waist. But, it was safe to say that the Pharoah was in no mood to hear such things.
If Zoser had changed his tone to being more cordial in those last moments, he could have stopped this.
Instead, with eyes flung wide and knees near buckling under him from the force in which he was grabbed, Zoser knew he fucked up. For a moment, all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears like waves upon rocks, and his hand instinctively found themselves grasping helplessly at the Pharoah's grip. The scholar was no match for the soldier in this.
"N--noh...no--" Zoser croaked, the sounds of his attempts producing the most strangled wheezing squeak of a response as the air could not make it through his throat. Despite being unable to breath and all but crumbling under the grip of the Pharaoh, his mind was already at work to make this right.
Grovel. Grovel like your life depends on it.
Because it does.
The moment Zoser clattered to the ground in pile of limbs and golden ornamentation, he gasped in a few wheezing breaths, the shock of the air through his strained windpipe resulting in a sputtering cough that muddled his mind nearly more than the hands around his throat.
Zoser started to collect himself from the ground, the numbness of shock in his fingertips and feet making for a bit of a struggle as he coughed and sputtered again, nearly missing the Pharaohs words but catching the end.
'...will be punished.'
His mind immediately went to Neithotep and his blood ran cold as the reality of what she faced sank in deep into his core. The man hovering over them - one he once considered a friend - was headlong into a power trip, desperate for some validation to his position as Pharaoh as if marrying the fucking Queen was not enough. How was that not enough? Zoser had known of his cruelty on the field of battle, but this? Unheard of. Unnecessary.
Dangerous.
Zoser's head flung towards the doorway where the three guards had been standing, men whose faces had been familiar within the Palace walls, but whose stories he did not know. He regretted that now, as they obeyed the orders of the Pharaoh and stepped towards him.
"Sire, I beg forgiveness, though I do not warrant it for my words--" Zoser started, cut off briefly as the guards hooked their arms beneath his and hoisted him from the floor. The scholar was trying to compile some form of defense or perhaps a softening of this sentence. After all, he was no soldier and had hardly a layer of muscle to protect him from such injury. Soft, he had been called often, for his demeanor. In this sense, it was a synonym for coward.
Zoser did not handle pain well, as seen by the healing gash on his leg he earned in Judea. In his youth, decades ago, he could take a punch rather well, and used to be able to hold his own when wrestling the other Greek students at the festivals. His height was his only advantage, as his strength and his weight had always left something to be desired. That was long ago, and those were not formal beatings.
In all his time in the Palace, he had never once attained anything more than a shrewd snap from a noble that a few gently worded apologies and a few discreetly delivered gifts could not fix. Never had it warranted brute force against him, and he was affronted and afraid by it.
"My Pharaoh, my tone was misguided. I meant no offense, I swear before the gods!" he protested, desperately as two of the men held him by his arms. Zoser watched in horror as the third guard wheeled back and landed a solid blow against his torso.
The wind was knocked out of him and once again, he could not breath. Lips rounded agape and gasping soundlessly, begging for air to hit his lungs again, but those silent pleas went unheard as another blow landed across his ribs, again and again before a single backhand across his face was followed by a gasping fit of coughs and strangled exclamations.
The two men dropped him to collapse to the floor, but the blows continued. His arms rose to shield his face as best as it could but the men succeeded in landing blows across the back and sides of his head as well as his back in response.
It felt as though it lasted an eternity...
Zoser, on more than one occasion, could be considered a smart man. In his day to day business, he made calculations and projections in his mind as to how present actions could affect future circumstances. Often, these mental schemes were based on past experience. Usually, they worked.
This time, they did not.
Zoser took a calculated risk, but it did not add up. There was an immediate shift the moment the Pharaoh began to lust after the adoration that Queen Hatshepsut had. He wanted to advise the man that his novelty within his role was the only step impeding him at the moment, given that the young Queen had held the heart of her people from the time she was only as tall as his waist. But, it was safe to say that the Pharoah was in no mood to hear such things.
If Zoser had changed his tone to being more cordial in those last moments, he could have stopped this.
Instead, with eyes flung wide and knees near buckling under him from the force in which he was grabbed, Zoser knew he fucked up. For a moment, all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears like waves upon rocks, and his hand instinctively found themselves grasping helplessly at the Pharoah's grip. The scholar was no match for the soldier in this.
"N--noh...no--" Zoser croaked, the sounds of his attempts producing the most strangled wheezing squeak of a response as the air could not make it through his throat. Despite being unable to breath and all but crumbling under the grip of the Pharaoh, his mind was already at work to make this right.
Grovel. Grovel like your life depends on it.
Because it does.
The moment Zoser clattered to the ground in pile of limbs and golden ornamentation, he gasped in a few wheezing breaths, the shock of the air through his strained windpipe resulting in a sputtering cough that muddled his mind nearly more than the hands around his throat.
Zoser started to collect himself from the ground, the numbness of shock in his fingertips and feet making for a bit of a struggle as he coughed and sputtered again, nearly missing the Pharaohs words but catching the end.
'...will be punished.'
His mind immediately went to Neithotep and his blood ran cold as the reality of what she faced sank in deep into his core. The man hovering over them - one he once considered a friend - was headlong into a power trip, desperate for some validation to his position as Pharaoh as if marrying the fucking Queen was not enough. How was that not enough? Zoser had known of his cruelty on the field of battle, but this? Unheard of. Unnecessary.
Dangerous.
Zoser's head flung towards the doorway where the three guards had been standing, men whose faces had been familiar within the Palace walls, but whose stories he did not know. He regretted that now, as they obeyed the orders of the Pharaoh and stepped towards him.
"Sire, I beg forgiveness, though I do not warrant it for my words--" Zoser started, cut off briefly as the guards hooked their arms beneath his and hoisted him from the floor. The scholar was trying to compile some form of defense or perhaps a softening of this sentence. After all, he was no soldier and had hardly a layer of muscle to protect him from such injury. Soft, he had been called often, for his demeanor. In this sense, it was a synonym for coward.
Zoser did not handle pain well, as seen by the healing gash on his leg he earned in Judea. In his youth, decades ago, he could take a punch rather well, and used to be able to hold his own when wrestling the other Greek students at the festivals. His height was his only advantage, as his strength and his weight had always left something to be desired. That was long ago, and those were not formal beatings.
In all his time in the Palace, he had never once attained anything more than a shrewd snap from a noble that a few gently worded apologies and a few discreetly delivered gifts could not fix. Never had it warranted brute force against him, and he was affronted and afraid by it.
"My Pharaoh, my tone was misguided. I meant no offense, I swear before the gods!" he protested, desperately as two of the men held him by his arms. Zoser watched in horror as the third guard wheeled back and landed a solid blow against his torso.
The wind was knocked out of him and once again, he could not breath. Lips rounded agape and gasping soundlessly, begging for air to hit his lungs again, but those silent pleas went unheard as another blow landed across his ribs, again and again before a single backhand across his face was followed by a gasping fit of coughs and strangled exclamations.
The two men dropped him to collapse to the floor, but the blows continued. His arms rose to shield his face as best as it could but the men succeeded in landing blows across the back and sides of his head as well as his back in response.
It felt as though it lasted an eternity...
Iahotep had stopped listening. The moment he uttered the sentence for Zoser’s crimes, anything the other man could have said ceased to matter. Perhaps, if he had been in a more merciful mood, a more balanced mood, he would have allowed Zoser to grovel before him and attempt to assuage the beast inside him. As it were, hearing Zoser’s pleas as the guards came to deliver the sentence only enraged Iahotep. How dare this fool insult the King of Kings and then attempt to beg for forgiveness? No. Iahotep did not forgive. Anyone who believed so simply didn’t understand that his mind was made long before they attempted to change it.
His hard gaze focused directly on Zoser as the other man was pulled to his feet and then promptly hit in the torso. The very sound of the impact was pleasing to his ears, though the fashion of the beating was not. He watched as the beating progressed, though his expression grew grimer with each passing second. They weren’t doing it right. Their actions would most certainly cause pain, but not the kind he liked to see in others. The kind that made them scream. Even in his disappointment, Iahotep could not help how his blood ran warm to be in the presence of suffering, even if he was not directly a part of it.
He imagined then, any number of his enemies in the place of Zoser, but even that image was not pleasurable enough. Where was the blood? The broken bones? The shrill screams of agony? Zoser, was, he decided, quite disappointing when it came to those he enjoyed to punish. Zoser merely lay on the ground and covered his face. There was no screaming, no begging, no nothing. In a way, Iahotep was pleased the other man had resigned himself to his fate, but it was not enough. His mind went to Neithotep and how she would scream when the whip descended upon her untrained flesh. Perhaps he would need to see her once more before he departed and remind himself what true pleasure was.
This beating had only sparked his desires, but he longed for much more than to simply watch. Nothing quite compared to the feeling of causing agony by his own hand. To rake his nails into the flesh of enough, to bite until he tasted blood, to harm was unlike anything else he might hope to experience.
It was power.
It was control.
It was him.
Suddenly, Iahotep’s actively returned to the scene before him. Right. Perhaps it would be best if he did not allow his guard to beat Zoser to death. “Enough.” He said, stepping forward and raising his hand as if his word was not sufficient. Iahotep came to Zoser’s side, looking down at the man on the ground with a sneer on his face. “Pathetic.”
His gaze turned to the guards. “Take him to Skylla and ensure he is prepared to return to work when she has finished seeing to him.” Iahotep said nothing else in that regard, turning his back to the scene behind him and allowing his will to be carried out in silence. The scrolls on the ground were quickly collected and returned to their place on the table, where he resumed reading them over as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps a lesson had been learned, perhaps not.
Either way, he was finished.
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Iahotep had stopped listening. The moment he uttered the sentence for Zoser’s crimes, anything the other man could have said ceased to matter. Perhaps, if he had been in a more merciful mood, a more balanced mood, he would have allowed Zoser to grovel before him and attempt to assuage the beast inside him. As it were, hearing Zoser’s pleas as the guards came to deliver the sentence only enraged Iahotep. How dare this fool insult the King of Kings and then attempt to beg for forgiveness? No. Iahotep did not forgive. Anyone who believed so simply didn’t understand that his mind was made long before they attempted to change it.
His hard gaze focused directly on Zoser as the other man was pulled to his feet and then promptly hit in the torso. The very sound of the impact was pleasing to his ears, though the fashion of the beating was not. He watched as the beating progressed, though his expression grew grimer with each passing second. They weren’t doing it right. Their actions would most certainly cause pain, but not the kind he liked to see in others. The kind that made them scream. Even in his disappointment, Iahotep could not help how his blood ran warm to be in the presence of suffering, even if he was not directly a part of it.
He imagined then, any number of his enemies in the place of Zoser, but even that image was not pleasurable enough. Where was the blood? The broken bones? The shrill screams of agony? Zoser, was, he decided, quite disappointing when it came to those he enjoyed to punish. Zoser merely lay on the ground and covered his face. There was no screaming, no begging, no nothing. In a way, Iahotep was pleased the other man had resigned himself to his fate, but it was not enough. His mind went to Neithotep and how she would scream when the whip descended upon her untrained flesh. Perhaps he would need to see her once more before he departed and remind himself what true pleasure was.
This beating had only sparked his desires, but he longed for much more than to simply watch. Nothing quite compared to the feeling of causing agony by his own hand. To rake his nails into the flesh of enough, to bite until he tasted blood, to harm was unlike anything else he might hope to experience.
It was power.
It was control.
It was him.
Suddenly, Iahotep’s actively returned to the scene before him. Right. Perhaps it would be best if he did not allow his guard to beat Zoser to death. “Enough.” He said, stepping forward and raising his hand as if his word was not sufficient. Iahotep came to Zoser’s side, looking down at the man on the ground with a sneer on his face. “Pathetic.”
His gaze turned to the guards. “Take him to Skylla and ensure he is prepared to return to work when she has finished seeing to him.” Iahotep said nothing else in that regard, turning his back to the scene behind him and allowing his will to be carried out in silence. The scrolls on the ground were quickly collected and returned to their place on the table, where he resumed reading them over as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps a lesson had been learned, perhaps not.
Either way, he was finished.
Iahotep had stopped listening. The moment he uttered the sentence for Zoser’s crimes, anything the other man could have said ceased to matter. Perhaps, if he had been in a more merciful mood, a more balanced mood, he would have allowed Zoser to grovel before him and attempt to assuage the beast inside him. As it were, hearing Zoser’s pleas as the guards came to deliver the sentence only enraged Iahotep. How dare this fool insult the King of Kings and then attempt to beg for forgiveness? No. Iahotep did not forgive. Anyone who believed so simply didn’t understand that his mind was made long before they attempted to change it.
His hard gaze focused directly on Zoser as the other man was pulled to his feet and then promptly hit in the torso. The very sound of the impact was pleasing to his ears, though the fashion of the beating was not. He watched as the beating progressed, though his expression grew grimer with each passing second. They weren’t doing it right. Their actions would most certainly cause pain, but not the kind he liked to see in others. The kind that made them scream. Even in his disappointment, Iahotep could not help how his blood ran warm to be in the presence of suffering, even if he was not directly a part of it.
He imagined then, any number of his enemies in the place of Zoser, but even that image was not pleasurable enough. Where was the blood? The broken bones? The shrill screams of agony? Zoser, was, he decided, quite disappointing when it came to those he enjoyed to punish. Zoser merely lay on the ground and covered his face. There was no screaming, no begging, no nothing. In a way, Iahotep was pleased the other man had resigned himself to his fate, but it was not enough. His mind went to Neithotep and how she would scream when the whip descended upon her untrained flesh. Perhaps he would need to see her once more before he departed and remind himself what true pleasure was.
This beating had only sparked his desires, but he longed for much more than to simply watch. Nothing quite compared to the feeling of causing agony by his own hand. To rake his nails into the flesh of enough, to bite until he tasted blood, to harm was unlike anything else he might hope to experience.
It was power.
It was control.
It was him.
Suddenly, Iahotep’s actively returned to the scene before him. Right. Perhaps it would be best if he did not allow his guard to beat Zoser to death. “Enough.” He said, stepping forward and raising his hand as if his word was not sufficient. Iahotep came to Zoser’s side, looking down at the man on the ground with a sneer on his face. “Pathetic.”
His gaze turned to the guards. “Take him to Skylla and ensure he is prepared to return to work when she has finished seeing to him.” Iahotep said nothing else in that regard, turning his back to the scene behind him and allowing his will to be carried out in silence. The scrolls on the ground were quickly collected and returned to their place on the table, where he resumed reading them over as though nothing had happened.