A Standup Philosopher
patreon
Shall We Play A Game? Prologue
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 03:24:02 +0000 UTCShall We Play A Game?
Prologue
################################################################
Ankhesenamun Nebkheperure Kanakhttutmesut, daughter of Akhnamkanon, Pharaoh of the New Kingdom, Ruler of Tâwîî and, by the Grace of her Divine Father, Ra, Queen of the Remtju ni Kemet, snarled in outrage as she hurled yet another half empty goblet of wine against the stone wall of her bedchamber, a crash and a series of clatters echoing through the palatial room as the badly battered and dented golden chalice rebounded off of the unyielding surface and joined a half-dozen of it’s kin on the floor.
The cause for her rage, stained by wine that had spilled from her first metallic victim after she had slammed it down on her desk to reread it, was an unfurled papyrus scroll. One that informed her, with ever-so-exquisite courtesy of course, that the writer -her own damned uncle!- represented a majority coalition of her Royal Council and higher-ranking nobility. All of whom, it seemed, had decided that she must marry a man of their choosing, sit beside him as Great Royal Wife and bear him children in order to ensure ‘stability’ and ‘security’ for their nation.
The idea that she would surrender her throne to some bought-and-paid-for fool! That was galling enough, but to suggest that she would surrender the Millennium Pendant to such a man? Give up the Games, give up the duels? This, more even than the throne, was her birthright, and she would suffer no other person to hold it save her own child.
The Pendant thrummed in agreement under her neck, The Shadows writhing in fury as they coiled around her protectively, and she placed a hand on the golden reverse pyramid in a calming gesture. She could feel the sullenness radiating out of the Item, and she felt her lips quirk in a bitter sort of amusement. Perhaps she should let her dear, loving uncle try to play out his scheme. Then she could watch her Pendant tear her would-be King apart at the seams. Perhaps then her Court would realize that what she had between her legs (or, in this case, the lack thereof) was not nearly as important as her ability to defend her nation or the fact that the Triune God-Beasts and The Shadows both answered her call.
Frankly, she would have thought that Akhenadin, the man who had forged the Millenium Items and wielded the Millenium eye, would have known better than to try this sort of insanity against her. Unless he had a plan, one beyond her expectations? He had, as she had just observed, forged the Items himself. It was certainly possible, if he was willing to commit such treachery against his own kin as this, that he held back knowledge of the Items and how they functioned.
“Shai, I just heard, I came as quickly as I….oh.” a voice said from her door, and she glanced over to see her cousin standing in the doorway to her chambers, eyes somewhat widened in surprise as she took in the destruction that her normally even-tempered kinswoman had created.
“Neffy.” The Pharaoh grunted, ignoring the pet name that would otherwise bring her joy as she paced back to her desk and threw herself in her seat, even as Neferure, daughter of Akhenadin, made her way into the room, followed by their childhood friend Mana and elder-sister figure Isis. The presence of her fellow Item holders was reassuring, and she could feel Neferure’s Rod, Mana’s Ring, and Isis’ Necklace reach out to her Pendant, magic thrumming through the room as four of the seven items were reunited. Waving the wine-stained parchment in the air, she continued quite bitterly. “Your father has really done it this time. Tell me, what have you all heard?”
“Only that he, the Council, and many of the nobility are demanding that you wed for the sake of the nation’s stability. Which is strange enough, since I expected him to want you to die without children so that Neferure’s children would inherit.” Isis answered for the group, eyeing the discarded, damaged goblets and clicking her tongue in chastisement, though she didn’t say anything about them as she settled into one of the chairs opposite Shai’s own.
“I’m sorry to say it, Neffy, but your father’s ambitions aren’t unknown to any of us.” Mana added, and the Rod-Bearer snorted like an angry bull in response.
“My father is a power-hungry fool, and he resents being replaced amongst the Guardians, which doesn’t help.” She growled, and Shai couldn’t help the flicker of pity and worry she felt for her cousin. She and her own father had loved one another fiercely until the day he had died and passed into the Underworld. The fact that Neferure’s father had set himself against his niece and daughter had to be painful for her cousin, no matter how used to it the other girl was. “I doubt that him demanding you marry and bear an heir is enough for you to act like that,” she twitched her head to the wreckage. “however, so why not tell us the rest.”
“Evidently, after I am married and consigned to the per-khener, I am to relinquish the Pendant to whomever is chosen as my husband, and I am to teach him how to summon The Three. Oh, and Shadow Games or duels will be forbidden to me, to ensure I am able to breed properly.” She sneered, and the reactions of her three dearest companions was exactly what she had secretly hoped they would be. Isis let out a low, deep sigh, her eyes closing as she reached up to massage her forehead with one hand. Mana scoffed and started to laugh in what could only be called bitterly mocking, and Neferure…well, Neferure paled with fury until she could have passed for a Khetani.
“How dare he? To demand that a Bearer forsake their Item, and to demand it of you at that? By the gods, I’ll have his head for it!” she seethed, eyes burning with incandescent wrath, and The Shadows writhed and twisted and danced in response, settling only slightly as Isis placed a restraining hand on her arm.
“An absurd demand, I agree, nearly heretical in fact. And something that he should know better than to even imagine, never mind voice aloud. A demand to marry could be tolerated, would even be understandable, but this is something else entirely. The Items are not simple jewelry, unliving and unaware baubles that can be traded in accordance to man’s whims. If he imagines that the Pendant will allow another to touch it before the appointed time…” she shook her head in genuine confusion and dismay, only for Mana to speak for her.
“He has gone mad. It’s the only reasonable explanation. The Eye rejecting him for Bakara and his replacement as the Pharaoh's closest advisor and confidant combined has finally caused his sanity to leave him entirely.” She said bluntly, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “Neferure, I’m sorry, but our Queen has tolerated your father’s nonsense for long enough. It is time that he is put out to pasture, somewhere quiet and far away from the power-plays of the Court, with trusted guards and servants to keep an eye on him.”
“Don’t apologize for being generous with his fate. He means to overthrow our Pharoah, his own blood, and dishonor the gods at the same time. He must die, either quietly or publicly, it matters not. We cannot allow him to continue sowing strife such as this, not with the Khetani growing in strength to the north and the Nubians so often rebelling in the south.” The tall brunette growled in response, the Eye of Wadjet on The Rod glowing faintly as she gripped it with white-knuckled fingers. “He will bring the greatest golden age of our nation to an end in fire and ruin for his own greed. Besides, I doubt he will settle for the plans he has presented. Once her appointed husband has the Pendant, I have little doubt that our Queen would quickly die and I would find myself married to her once-husband. To have his own blood on the throne, and to ‘purify’ the bloodline as well.”
“He never has been happy about my Naharini blood. As far as he’s concerned, my only saving grace is that Mother wasn’t Khetani.” Shai confirmed with a sigh, running a hand through her golden hair in a particularly pointed way, a legacy (a particularly strong and obvious one) of her mother’s northern blood. Her mother, Nefertiti, might be one of the most beautiful people in Kemet or any of the lands within it’s sight, but as far as many in the kingdom were concerned, she was still a foreigner, a daughter born to a nation that had long been rivals to their own. “And he never forgave father for making mother his Great Royal Wife either.”
“Akhenadin should be glad that the Naharini king was willing to let your father marry one of his daughters, otherwise they might have joined in with the last conflict we had against the Khetani.” Isis intoned calmly, though the sharpness in her eyes and the small downturn of her lips was more than enough for those who knew her best to recognize how displeased she was with the situation. “I imagine that Mana and I will, should he have his way, find ourselves as this new Pharoah’s concubines as well, to solidify his grip on power. I suppose the only real question would be whether he intends to have Bakara broken to halter as well, or simply executed.”
“Executed, no doubt, along with most of her subordinates. Bakara is an independent girl, no matter how sweetly she bows to our Pharoah.” Mana responded, folding her arms beneath her prodigious breasts. “The likelihood of her tolerating the attentions of someone outside of our family is small, but if it was a man who had so dishonored, or even killed, Shai? She’d try to murder him within minutes of meeting him, and the more power to her says I.”
All four of them laughed a little at that. The ‘former’ Bandit Queen of Kul Elna, herself arguably more Khetani than Kemeti, was neither educated in social niceties and courtesies, nor was she remotely interested in changing that fact. She was who she was, and very proud of it. Those around her could take her as she was or not, but that was up to them and them alone. Frankly, Shai adored her roughness, her honesty, her wicked tongue and clever mind. No matter what the situation was, she could always rely on Bakara to be honest with her. She was also the only other member of the family, besides occasionally Neferure, that actually ‘fought’ with her in bed. Isis and Mana submitted without question and enjoyed every moment of it, and Neferure loved nothing more than a game or two before they made love, but Bakara pushed her until she snapped and imposed her will over the silver-grey-haired girl once more.
Then they sobered, and Anakhesenamun sighed as Shai receded, the playful and loving young woman stepping behind the ruler.
“I don’t see much of a solution for this, at least not a clean one. Akhenadin might be the one guiding this act, which could lead to the rest falling into line if he is removed, but it might also drive them to more desperate measures. I…suppose we could allow the plan to move forward, and rely on the Pendant to solve the problem for us, but I am reluctant to do so.” She admitted, fingers fiddling with some of the bejeweled golden rings decorating her right hand as she leaned back in her chair more heavily, coming dangerously close to what could be called a sullen slouch.
“You…are required to marry, but did the Council’s message say anything further?” Neferure asked slowly, and Shai looked at her for a long moment before shaking her head slowly. Drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair, the priestess considered the situation before slapping it sharply and leaning forward, a gleam of cold wickedness in her eyes. “Then this is what we shall do…”
############################################
Akhenadin couldn’t help the smug satisfaction he felt as he settled into his seat in the Royal conference hall, exchanging nods of respect and support with his allies. Or at least that was how they would interpret it, he knew, unaware that he was barely willing to acknowledge them as tools and nothing more. Many of them would die once the throne was properly secured, of course, and he was sure at least some of them were aware of that fact, not that it would do them any good. As crafty and connected as many of them were, and as fallen as his start had come from its once-lofty heights, the connections that he possessed were far, far beyond anything that they could muster separately, and none of them would dream of trusting the others enough to unite against him.
It took a great deal of effort to keep his snarl from his face at that thought of that very fall from grace. His niece was a young fool, more interested in playing her games and cavorting in her chambers with the likes of that wretched Kul Elnan chit than doing anything of importance. Her Naharin blood, no doubt, sapping what little wisdom and cleverness a woman might have and replacing it with childish amusements and carnal obsessions.
Feh, whatever. The useless girl would be gone before long, with his handpicked successor getting his fun out of her before moving on to those holding purer blood, like Neferure. The cunt should have known better than to strip him of his titles and positions and offer so many of them to her little toy, but at least the existence of said toy would make his plans so much easier. It wouldn’t be hard, especially with his oblivious ‘allies’ dancing to his tune, to convince the nation that she had been biding her time to murder their Pharaoh in a bid to cause turmoil in the nation ahead of a Khetani invasion. With their mingled fear, mourning, and hate well in hand, Kemet would be his at last. As it should have been all along.
After that, he would reclaim his Eye and set about creating a new Dynasty, one that would crush the rest of the world beneath it’s might and bring it to heel. What did the Naharin chariots matter in the face of Summoned beasts? What good could the Khetani war goddess do against the might of The Three? His brother might have been too much of a coward to wield The Items against their enemies in anything but the most dire moments of defense, but then he had been too much of a coward to even survive with the knowledge of how they had been created, hadn’t he?
Why was it, he wondered tiredly, that he was the only member of his family that had any wisdom or strength at all? Even his daughter, pure and wise and powerful, had been taken in by his niece’s charms, like a simpering maiden! Well, once Ankhesenamun was out of the way, she would wisen up. One way or the other.
A commotion near the throne drew his eyes, and he rose together with the rest of the Council as the girl swept into the room, his daughter, Isis, and their little mage pet that held The Ring following him. To his surprise, however, she did not immediately sit on the throne (not her throne, never hers!) but instead stood there regarding all of them.
“I have read through the request of the Royal Council, my most dutiful of servants, and considered their desperate plea that I wed and bear an heir to give our people some peace of mind, some sense of security.” She started, and he had to resist the urge to growl in aggravation. It hadn’t been a request, nor a desperate plea, and though the faint edge of irony hung on the words ‘most dutiful of servants’, he contented himself with a benign smile and an expression of focus and attentiveness to hide his satisfaction. She didn’t really have a choice, and she knew it. Whatever arguments she wished to pose would have no bearing… “Alas, I find myself unable to agree to them. I cannot, in good conscience, allow an unproven man to carry the Millenium Pendant nor sit upon the throne of Kemet.”
There was a low murmur throughout the Council, a murmur of discontent, surprise, and concern, and Akhenadin’s eyes narrowed as he considered the group atop the dais. What were they planning? There had to be a child from the bloodline of the Pharoah to maintain stability, so unless the girl was going to step aside and allow Neferure to rule (which he doubted, as convenient as it would be, even if Horemheb would be aggravated to lose the chance at bedding the foreign-blooded girl) then he really didn’t know what she thought she was playing at.
“Does my Pharoah have a plan instead? As your humble servant and your Grand Vizier, I must perform my solemn duty of advising Your Majesty, and so I reiterate our fear for the throne and the nation, if you were to pass into the next world without an heir of your own body. Indeed, it is surely possible that your cousin, the honored High Priestess Neferure, could take the throne in such an event, but even that would be rife with complications and dangerous instabilities.” Ay, one of the few members of the Council that Akhenadin didn’t own, was practically oozing obsequious deference as he talked, his smile so greasy Akhenadin was almost proud of his niece when she gave him a distinctly unimpressed look from behind her kingly mask. As little as he cared for his niece, or for that old bastard Shimon, they were at least better than Ay!
“I have no doubt that my beloved cousin would rule with wisdom and strength, as my father and his Guardians taught her, as they raised her,” she responded, and was Akhenadin imagining the distinctly smug look that was shot his way at the reminder that he had been almost entirely uninvolved in Neferure’s life? “but that will not prove necessary. You see, oh Council of mine, I have sought an answer, a mutual solution to your fears and mine ever since I received your plea, and one has been revealed to me.”
Akhenadin was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
“A solution not only to the problem posed by a lack of clear succession, but our constant rivalries and tension with our neighbors. Neighbors who eye our vast lands and rich resources with greed, with hunger and with desire. Neighbors who are steadily growing more powerful, and though our beloved former Grand Vizier, Shimon, was able to shatter the last army that assaulted this city with his ka beast, we cannot rely upon such things forever.”
Akhenadin didn’t entirely disagree, and the gods knew it was worrying enough that the army had been able to make it all the way to the capitol in the first place, and would have posed a significant threat to their nation is Shimon hadn’t been able to summon The Forbidden One. None of that reassured him, in fact her references to the other nations only made him more nervous. Did the chit really think…?
“As such, I have decided that, if I am to wed, I shall wed a man of my own choosing, and a man who I know can best provide what I, and Kemet, need from a King. I have ordered messages be sent to every nation and satrapy in the world, entreating them to send their very best of men to vie for my hand. I have spoken, and will hear no arguments. Instead, we shall discuss the logistics of their arrival here, and thence discuss the daily matters.”
Now she settled into her throne, her Guardians gathering around her as the Council bowed and murmured their acceptance of her decree…
And Akhenadin seethed.
Comments
HistoricalHijinks
Odd. Lemme take a look!
StormGamer
Do you know if some of your chapters are hidden or purged? I can't find chapter three of forsaken
