A Standup Philosopher
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Shall We Play A Game? Chapter Seven
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 03:30:22 +0000 UTCShall We Play A Game?
Chapter Seven
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Shai watched from on high as Hasamelli, Yuri, and their companions made their way out of the palace, in the company of one of her most proficient generals and his highly competent sister. It was almost funny, really, how teasing Bakara had side-tracked things enough that Ramses hadn’t gotten mentioned in connection to the defense of Hasamelli’s caravan. Even more interesting was the fact that Nefert hadn’t let so much as a word of it slip from her lips, which told Shai that her fellow blonde hadn’t known to begin with. As crafty as the eldest daughter of Ramses’ House was, as involved in the politics of the Imperial Court as she was, Nefert wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to advance her House’s reputation and standing by making it known that it had been her brother that Hasamelli and his companions -visiting royals of another nation, and one of them there to court Shai at that- had credited with their continued lives and safety, at least in part.
One of the many revelations she and her lovers had received over the course of their time bathing with Yuri and her servants the night before, an event that had lasted hours and involved quite a bit of chatting in between the bath, the massages, the perfumed rubdowns, not to mention the attention to their hair and extremities.
She couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself, shaking her head. ‘Servants’, she called the three sisters, as if that was the sum of their natures. As if they were more akin to the women that flitted about her palace, serving drinks and cleaning the rooms and tending to the gardens instead of fighters. She hadn’t seen them train yet, although they had promised to show she and her Guardians how their swordplay would need to change while wielding iron rather than bronze, but she didn’t need to. She has seen the subtle but powerful muscle beneath their feminine exterior, had seen -and felt!- the callouses born of holding sword hilts, and she had finally heard the whole story behind how they had entered Yuri’s service as well.
And what a story it had been!
A story that had begun when Hasamelli was a decade younger, and had journeyed to Alinna in an effort to learn the arts of metalworking and forging from the best craftsmen in the whole of the Hittite Empire, the Hatti . Or, rather more specifically, their chieftain -and the father of the three sisters and Tito- Talos, under whom he had spent several years learning…well, the three sisters didn’t say much with any specificity, but the implication was that he had learned the secrets of iron-forging, amongst other things. Something he had apparently taken to with all the talent of, well, a man blessed by a smith-god. Which made Shai wonder a few things about the weapons that had been part of her -their, really, given his stated intentions and the fact that he had provided enough for all five members of their family- courting gifts.
All three sisters had admitted, blushing faintly, to have had quite the interest in him as they had gotten older, and had fully expected that he -as a Prince of the Empire and as a man who was the target of affections by three beautiful girls- would take advantage of what he had been offered. Instead, he had insisted that, though he loved them all dearly, his affection for them was the love of an elder brother for his younger sisters. He had vowed, they said, to ensure that they had the very best of men in their lives, the finest match. Something, Ryui and Shala admitted somewhat smugly, had turned out to be quite true for them in the form of Kikkuri, Kail Mursili’s Master of Chariots and the man who had written the horse-care guide that had her own royal stablemaster in tears from awe and appreciation. Hadi admitted he had not yet found someone for her, but having seen the fate of her sisters, she had faith in her future.
Many years later, after Hasamelli had been forced to return home to master the skills of war and statecraft expected of a man from his position and bloodline, the four childhood friends had found themselves meeting again, but this time in a situation that was…less than ideal.
From what they had told her, a man in service to a noblewoman who didn’t like Yuri very much -something told Shai that was an understatement, and only a fraction of the story as well- had presented them with proof that they had considered irrefutable that Yuri had been responsible for the untimely and brutal demise of their little brother, Tito. At the hands of a man famed for skinning people and using their flesh to fashion himself garments, apparently, (Mana had paled so horribly at that fact that the story had been called to a halt until they were all sure that she wasn’t going to faint) and so of course the three of them were unwilling to be anything approximating reasonable when they had met Yuri in the flesh. An occurrence that had come about when the monstrous man’s subordinates, a tribe called the Kashuga, had attacked their home city of Alinna. Hasamelli’s brother, and Yuri’s future husband Kail, had been sent with a small army to relieve the siege of the city and taken Yuri with him. Not because she had been a great fighter, at the time, Yuri had hastened to explain, but because much of Hattusa believed her to be at the very least a chosen blessed of the war goddess Ishtar -thus, apparently, her epithet of Yuri Ishtar- and at most an Incarnation of the goddess herself.
The sisters had gone on to explain that their first several attempts at killing Yuri had all failed, several of them due to Yuri’s own good-hearted nature, one of which had even involved her instead saving the life of one of them. They admitted that they had started to have doubts, then, but once again the man that had told them of Tito’s death had appeared and twisted them back towards wrath and hate with his words.
The end result had been Yuri, armed with an iron dagger -one she had been able to identify as such on sight, amongst an armory of hundreds of weapons- and nothing in the way of training, killing Zuwa of the Kashuga. Hasamelli’s appearance not minutes after the fact, a confused and embarrassed Tito in tow, had put an end to the entire event. Hadi and her sisters had promptly sworn their lives to Yuri -personally, not to the Hittie Royal House or Prince Kail Mursili, but Yuri Ishtar alone- and their father had given the both of them permission to share the secrets of iron-making with a select few metalsmiths.
A chaotic mess, to be sure, and one that could have gotten terribly ugly if not for Hasamelli’s involvement, but in spite of that fact, Shai could easily see why Hasamelli had gotten involved. To the benefit of many personally, and indeed the Hittite Empire as a whole.
Story-time having been finished, she and her lovers had done their level best to extract more information about her potential husband out of the women who seemed to know him best. And information they had received, about his nature, his history, his likes and dislikes, and -perhaps most importantly- his relationships with people back home. To wit, they were now quite sure that they knew who was behind the ‘bandit attack’, and in hindsight Shai wasn’t surprised. Hadn’t it been clear that Hasamelli’s step-mother hated her step-children? Hadn’t it been clear that his mother, Queen Hinti, had died of illness not long after the Babylonian princess had been purchased -it was really the only word that suited- by his father? They had guessed, accurately, that the attack had been due to power struggles in the court of Šuppiluliuma, but they had never imagined that it was due -provided that they had read between the lines properly- to the fact that it was because the current Hittite Queen was trying to kill anyone and everyone between her own son and the throne.
Somehow, Shai doubted that this ‘Nakia’ was going to stop trying, just because Hasamelli and Yuri were in Kemet now. And it certainly meant that she was going to have to make a deliberate, appreciable effort to make sure that Yuri got home safely to her future husband, because -while all the girls had insisted that Nakia’s son Juda was actually a wonderful boy who loved his big brothers and supported them- the very last thing she wanted was for Nakia to be the power behind the throne of Kemet’s most powerful neighbor and long-time rival.
“Your Majesty, your guest is awaiting your pleasure.” one of her guards murmured respectfully from the other side of the curtain, and she resisted the urge to sigh in dismay, already regretting her decision to give the rest of her suitors a fair chance at winning her over. It was respectable, it was gracious, it was wise and kind, but it was also a waste of her time, and one that she wasn’t looking forward to carrying out. But it was her duty, regardless of how she felt about it, and she would carry that duty out with every bit of effort that she had given to Hasamelli.
Though not, perhaps, with the same amount of emotional investment.
“Thank you. I will be with him in a moment.” she responded aloud, turning away as Hasamelli and his companions passed from her view, wistfully wishing that she could be beside them. Exploring the city with them, showing her lands to them. Oh, she could do all of that later, if she and Hasamelli were to wed, but it would not be so enjoyable to show them the second time as it would have been to be first.
Pushing the thought aside, she passed through the curtain and plastered a gentle, queenly smile onto her face and greeted the next man vying for her hand and throne with all the courtesy she could muster.
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“I hope you’re ready to deal with my sister pestering the lot of you for the rest of the day over this ‘Rusafa’ fellow. And you’ll be dealing with it from my mother as well, for as long as you’re in our home.” Ramses grumbled at me as we wound our way through the city, he and I a few feet behind where our collective female relatives/friends were chattering away with one another about…well, things I didn’t really follow, to be honest. But they were happy and getting along, by all appearances, quite nicely. That was the important bit, as far as I was concerned.
“I’ll be happy to talk about him, and the girls happier still. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if a bit of their conversation right this moment involves him in some part.” I assured him, though he didn’t look particularly reassured by my words, not that I could blame him. He was a big brother, after all, and I was a Hittite prince suggesting marrying off one of his little sisters to one of my brother’s top generals. His most impressive little sister, at that, and the one who was by any reasonable measure the closest to him. “Speaking of, just how many of your family members will be joining us for the day?”
“Just Nefert, my mother, and I. I don’t have any brothers, father died in the last war, and my other sisters are busy with lessons and such things. And, quite frankly, neither Nefert and I are interested in trying to ride herd on a dozen sisters under fifteen years of age on a single boat. We do enough of that the rest of the time, and for better or worse this is too important an event for their special brand of madness.” he responded bluntly, a familiar sort of fond exhaustion coloring his words, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I hadn’t had younger siblings in my old life -in fact, I had been the younger sibling-, and I had only a few in this one, but I was more than familiar with the chaos younger siblings could inflict all the same. Being the only son, and the elder sibling at that, do a dozen or so sisters had to be one hell of an experience.
I also had to give props to his mother, because goddamn she had been put through the ringer. At least some of his siblings had to have been from batch-births -twins, most likely- which was no small thing in this era. Hell, having that many babies and surviving, and having the babies survive, was remarkable in this era! It certainly helped explain how Ramses would -in another world, one where I didn’t exist- go on to found the next Dynasty. That many sisters meant a hell of a lot of marriage alliances and kin-by-marriage that, combined with his military acumen and popularity with the troops, would have made securing the throne for himself almost laughably easy.
Really, I felt almost guilty. I would have to find something suitably rewarding for him someday in the future, once I was Pharoah. The family line that produced Seti the First and Ramses the Great shouldn’t disappear into obscurity simply because of my, hmm, relocation to this era. Of course, now that I thought of it, he might end up as Pharoah anyway, if I couldn’t figure out a way to deal with Zorc in such a way that Ankhesenamun and I didn’t die in the effort. Which was by no means a guarantee, given I didn’t even know who the bastard’s puppet would be this time around, thanks to how different Bakara was in this version of the world.
I mean, I did have a plan, but it was little more than a hopeful outline of events. Keeping Bakara loyal and loved and preventing the Hittite’s from replacing her as Zorc’s tools was as solid a foundation as anyone could hope for, and I seemed well on my way to success, but I wasn’t naive. This era and this region of the world was full of tension and rivalries and strife, and any one of a dozen other nations would serve almost as well to his purposes. Hell, if he was patient enough, he could just wait another century or so. Even with all my foreknowledge and modern solutions to problems, I doubted anything I could do could prevent the Late Bronze Age Collapse from happening in one way or another. Historically speaking, Egypt and Assyria were essentially the only nations to survive intact, and Egypt was horrifically weakened while Assyria rose to prominence, safe from the marauding Sea Peoples thanks to the large distance between themselves and the Mediterranean regions that the attacks were coming from. And while Egypt would -hopefully- be very much my concern come the next few months, I didn’t want to abandon Kail and Yuri’s descendants to their fates either.
“That’s a very serious expression you’re wearing, Hasamelli.” Ramses’s voice broke me from my thoughts as they spiraled downwards into negativity, and I blinked slightly in surprise, glancing over at him and taking note of his scrutinizing gaze. I considered how best to respond for a moment, before ultimately deciding that a portion of truth was likely the best approach in this situation.
“Simply considering the future. If Ankhesenamun ends up choosing me for her husband, as I hope that she will, it will bring with it no small amount of risk and potential for strife.” I told him honestly, running a hand through my hair in a vaguely self-soothing gesture, before flashing a wry smile and shrugging. “Not to say that her deciding to marry someone else will in anyway prevent that or make it less likely, but I’d be a fool not to try and plan for the eventuality that she selects me. Fortune favors the prepared, after all.”
Ramses studied me for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Wise of you. I don't need to tell you that our border skirmishes with the Hittites have been going on for generations. Some in our court would rather die, or perhaps cause many thousands of other people to die, than see a Hittite Prince on the throne beside our Pharaoh. Especially one whose father nearly conquered our lands not so very long ago."
"And some in my father's court would rather see me dead than sitting on an Egyptian throne, ready and able to support my brothers with sword or speech." I acknowledged, matching his candor. "But that's precisely why this alliance makes sense. Both our nations have spent too long bleeding each other when we could be strengthening each other against common threats."
Ramses gave me a sidelong glance. "You speak of the Assyrians."
It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and I didn’t even try to deny it.
“Amongst others, yes. Assyria is on the rise, to say the least, and rapidly at that. Ahhiyawa, though more often focused on itself and those to it’s own north and west, lingers across the sea. They could well turn their eyes towards us in pursuit of riches and territories if we show sufficient weakness or disunity.” I agreed, using the Hittite name for the Achaean Greeks, and Ramses nodded thoughtfully, recognizing the name for what it was. “The vassals my father forged, such as Arazawa, or Isuwa, or Hayasa-Azzi, could see the benefit in leaguing together to rebel if your nation and mine were at war, or if Assyria were to march west with intent. We are on the cusp of a change to the world, Ramses, and I mean to make sure Egypt and Nesha both make it through.”
Ramses nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as he digested my words. After a moment, he surprised me by clapping a hand on my shoulder in a distinct display of approval.
"You know, when I first heard we were to host a Hittite prince, I assumed you'd be another arrogant royal brat come to try your hand at laying claim our Pharaoh like a prize." His lips quirked into a half-smile. "I'm finding myself pleasantly surprised. You actually seem to care about the fate of both our nations, not just your own homeland."
"I do, truly." I assured him, a bit wryly amused by his surprise, understanding where it was coming from. Given my father and what he had done not even a generation ago, it was perfectly reasonable to be suspicious of me and my motives, especially from a military man of a military family, such as Ramses. "War between us only strengthens our mutual enemies, and you know as well as I do that war brings many perils and dangers outside of that. Plague, illness, weakened economies and struggling harvests..."
"Hmm.” he grunted in agreement and approval, having doubtlessly experienced just that within his own lifetime. More than once, I would assume, and he might even have lost friends and loved ones to such things in the past. “And your brother? Kail Mursili? Does he share these views?"
I smiled, thinking of my brother, a man I loved dearly as the one I had had in my old life. "Even more fervently than I do. Kail has always been the visionary among our family. One of his hopes, his dreams, is to create peace across this entire region. From the western sea of the Ahhiyawa to the eastern plains of Assyria. Why spend gold and lives on war in an effort to take by force that which can be gained by fair trade?”
Ramses gave a bark of laughter, clearly caught off guard by my brother's idealism, though there was a hint of respect with the disbelief. Ambition recognized ambition, after all, and this was the man who had -in another world- dreamed and planned and succeeded in taking the throne of Pharoah for himself and birth the dynasty that took Egypt to it’s zenith of power and influence. "A peace across the entire region, after so many generations of war and dispute? That's quite the ambition. Does he imagine lions lying down with lambs as well? Painted dogs and cats embracing one another as brothers?”
“Ha!” It was I who barked the laughter, sharp but genuine, this time, shaking my head and grinning. Not just at the jest, such as it was, or the mental image, but the inadvertent Biblical reference. Ironic, really, and deeply amusing on a strange level. Then again, I had never been accused of having an ‘average’ sense of humor. “Something like that, I suppose. He isn’t naive, of course, if that’s what you mean. He knows that peace requires strength, or at least an absence of weakness. Our father believed that displaying that strength through aggressive action was called for, but he forgets that he showed his own strength not in conquest, but in defense of our people. In the time of his father’s kingship, our capitals had been burned, our lands over-run. But it was my father’s strength in defending what was theirs and taking back what had been lost that forged him into the man he is today. He lost sight of that, I think.”
Ramses seemed to consider this thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to where his sister and mother were now waiting with my own companions at the edge of the dock. The large, well-made barge that would take us up the Nile was already prepared, its colorful sail emblazoned with the symbols of Ramses' house furled and ready, the rowers at their stations awaiting command. I was pretty sure I could see a sizeable banquet table from here as well, laid out in the shade of a large awning, which told me that Ramses’ family was taking this pretty seriously.
Not that I expected otherwise, given who and what I was, not to mention my statements about Rusafa. Yes, Ramses’ family was hard at working trying to build alliances, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Having them on my/our side was only a net positive. Having them happy to be there was even better.
"There's wisdom in that perspective," he admitted after a moment, as we drew into earshot of the girls, who were preparing to board. "My father always taught me that the greatest general is the one who wins without fighting at all. Fear and respect often accomplish what swords cannot."
"Your father was a wise man, very wise.” I agreed, not surprised in the least that someone other than Sun Tzu had come up with the idea. Though he may have made it famous, it was hardly the most difficult concept for someone to imagine or create. “And yet neither fear nor respect can be maintained without the occasional demonstration that one's strength is not merely for show. Peace through power, or as someone I greatly respect once said: ‘speak softly and carry a big stick.’”
“Ha! I like that! A wise man indeed.” Ramses gave a bark of laughter, nodding his head in approval with a grin. “Negotiate peacefully and in good faith, but have the power to defend yourself and strike back against your enemies if things should end badly. Yes, I like that a great deal. I’ll have to remember that one.”
“I do to.” Nefert chimed in, eyeing me thoughtfully, and I caught Yuri’s exasperated and amused expression. She had already been familiar with the quote, and it’s origin, when I had shared it -amongst other modern wisdoms and quotes- with Kail and his officers, on more than one occasion at that. Feh, she was just jealous I was cribbing all of the best lines a few millennia early. Nefert, either unaware or ignoring our not-quite-byplay, arched an eyebrow at me. “So, that would be your goal as Pharoah? To be a generous and friendly neighbor to those with the sense and the grace to reciprocate, but possess the strength to protect our people and strike back at our enemies if they should attack us.”
“More or less. There would be quite a bit more to my policies, foreign and domestic both, and of course I would want to discuss everything with Ankhesenamun and her Guardians as well, but yes. That would be the general idea. Completely isolating ourselves won’t do us any good, but becoming so open and welcoming that we make ourselves vulnerable isn’t any better. Balance is the key. Thus, kind words and large sticks.” I agreed, following her up the ramp and onto the deck, sighing softly at the abrupt and welcome change in temperature as the awning’s shade shielded me from the mid-day sun. I might be more able to tolerate it now than in my old life, but that didn’t mean that I enjoyed it. Judging by the look on Yuri’s face, she felt the same way that I did, and our companions and hosts alike both seemed to notice our expressions of relief, judging by their soft but vocal amusement.
“That’s enough of such things! This is meant to be an enjoyable afternoon cruise, a time for making new friends! Do not spoil it with this sort of talk!” the Ramses Matriarch chided us, going so far as to swat at her two eldest children’s arms with a frown, and said children snorted in unison.
“Mother, be honest. You don’t want us talking about this so you can spend the entire afternoon interrogating them about this Rusafa fellow and cooing about the prospect of grandchildren.” Ramses groused, earning himself another, harder swat in response, even as chuckles and smile circled the boat.
“And what if I do, hmm? I’m certainly not getting any from you anytime soon, married to your sword as you are, your other sisters are too young, and your sisters-by-marriage aren’t getting pregnant with any grandchild of mine anymore!” she retorted as the barge got underway at last, sedately making it’s way towards the center of the river’s current. She shook her head, holding up her hands in prayer and lamentation. “Ah, cursed by the gods I am, to have such an unreliable son! Oh, if only some fine woman would take him in hand!” she turned her eyes to Yuri, who stiffened and blushed slightly at the look in her eyes. “If only you weren’t promised to your prince, my girl! You’d make a fine bride for this fool, beautiful and kind and wise, but with a fiery spirit! You’d take him well in hand, wouldn’t you? I don’t suppose that you have a sister?”
“Ah…” Yuri looked stricken for a moment, doubtlessly thinking of her siblings in 20th century Japan, before smiling and shaking her head. “Not anymore, sorry. And I don’t know any women back home that would make a good match for Ramses either. Surely there must be someone in Egypt that can catch his eye?”
“Feh. I have no interest in a simpering, silk-clad damsel. One whose only value proposition is her bloody pedigree.” Ramses groused, before smirking and waving his hands in a particular, blatant and well-known way, and I started to chuckle as feminine eyes narrowed. “No, it’s a fiery woman for me, one with a fine shape to her. Large at the top and the bottom, slender in the middle…”
The outraged squawks and dirty looks from the women around them did nothing to dissuade either he nor I from our laughter, laughter that only increased at Yuri’s exasperated huff of ‘Men!’ before she resolutely turned her back on us, nose upturned, to engage Ramses’ mother in conversation, with Nefert and the three sisters occasionally chiming in. As Ramses and I turned our attention to our own discussion, and enjoying the contents of the food and drink on offer, I let my mind consider the new issue on hand. Ramses did need a wife, that much was certain, especially since I wasn’t going to let him -nor, in fairness to him, did he seemed inclined to try, thanks to the difference in circumstances- pursue Yuri. All I could remember about his future wife, historically speaking, is that she wasn’t a member of the royal family herself, and not necessarily even a member of the nobility. Hmm…it couldn’t be another Hittite, that would be putting to many eggs in a single basket, and it would probably be deemed too aggressive a move, but perhaps a Babylonian or an Assyrian?
Perhaps I should talk to Ankhesenamun about this, the next time I saw her?
