The Pharaoh and the Murder at the Palace


-------------


He'd been awake for a while, but Atemu didn't feel like getting up yet. He could still feel Mahaado's warmth all over his body, his weight as he had lied on top of him; he could still smell his scent, so close, as his lips had touched his skin, leaving no spot undiscovered. He felt warm, and yet so cold as Mahaado wasn't lying next to him. The bed was empty... and it stressed his feelings of guilt. Darkness and despair ruled the Palace and he had been so selfish as to be with his Priest, while so many other, and much more important, matters called for his attention. Atemu turned on his side. Aside from feeling guilty about him being selfish, there was also much guilt in his heart for Karim. Loyal, strong and devoted Karim. It wasn't fair, was it? How was it even possible to love two of his Priests so deeply, so intensely? He had to figure it out, and soon. It wasn't becoming of a Pharaoh to drag good people down and hurt them. He sighed. Someone was going to get hurt, it was inevitable. If only he could bear all the pain and hurt... now wasn't the time to mope or sulk. Calling for a God had reenergized him, but that didn't mean that Bakura had stopped being a problem. Atemu rolled out of the bed and got himself dressed. What time was it? His stomach growled. First, he would eat something and then call his Priests together. Fastening his purple cape, Atemu suddenly got an idea. He hadn't asked Shimon for advice yet. The elderly man had been retreating steadily from meetings and didn't play an active role at the Pharaoh's Court as before due to his age, but his advice was still sought after and high-regarded. Now that the Priests had lost their Items - the thought made Atemu put his hands protectively around his Puzzle - the vizier would know what to do. He needed new insights, a new direction to deal with the King of Thieves. Atemu opened the doors and stepped outside. No guards. He frowned. Strange. His quarters were always guarded. Always. He took a few steps forward. The Palace was silent as a grave. Where was everyone? The temperature had dropped considerably. Atemu shivered and pulled his cape around him.

It didn't take him long to reach the vizier's quarters; Atemu kept a firm stride and walked as quickly as possible, almost running, freaked out by the silence in the Palace. He saw no one; no servant, no guard, and he didn't dare to ask out loud where everyone was. As soon as he had reached Shimon's quarters, he knocked frantically on the door. The vizier himself appeared at the door, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise.

"Great Pharaoh! You've come to visit me!"

"Shimon, thank the Gods that you are safe," Atemu said. "With all the unrest in the Palace, and the Items missing..."

"Yes, yes, horrible unrest," Shimon agreed. "Come in, Great Pharaoh. My apologies, I should've visited you. All these... circumstances are taking a toll on everyone."

"No, no Shimon, please, if anyone should apologize, it should be me. I should have asked for your advice much sooner. My father appreciated and valued your recommendations and suggestions greatly."

"You look tired, Great Pharaoh. You need some rest."

"I can not rest, not at the moment." Atemu blushed slightly, thinking back of the hours he had spent with Mahaado in bed, as they explored... he quickly cut off that train of thoughts, to avoid an awkward situation. "I need your help, Shimon. We have to talk about Bakura."

"The King of Thieves, yes. Please, Great Pharaoh, take a seat."

Atemu couldn't recall the last time he'd been in Shimon's quarters. As a Pharaoh, people would come to visit him, not the other way around. The vizier had an eclectic taste in artwork, with a penchant for wooden masks, painted in vibrant colors. Atemu looked at them before sitting down. A servant popped up out of nowhere, bringing cups of water and different kinds of wine. Atemu decided to forego the wine and drink water instead; he had to keep his mind clear. The servant offered wine to Shimon, who accepted the goblet and sipped the liquid.

"Bakura," Shimon said, "has infiltrated the Palace. His Darkness is everywhere."

"Is that why everyone is gone?" Atemu asked.

"I'm not sure, Great Pharaoh. That monster of his, Diabound, is incredibly strong and has incredible powers."

"I can summon a God," Atemu said, sounding more confident than he actually felt. He wasn't so sure if he was able to repeat that feat so easily.

"So I've heard," Shimon said. Atemu was taken aback by the man's reaction; he sounded... disappointed?

"Shimon, something the matter?" He put his cup of water aside. Delicious, so fresh and cool... but he stared at Shimon instead, whose expression had turned angry, aggravated.

"You weren't supposed to be able to call for God," Shimon said.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Diabound is the strongest and it was going to beat you all," Shimon said. "You ruined my plans, Atemu."

"What are you talking about?" Atemu blinked. Shimon stood up, so quickly that he couldn't follow the movement. The pudgy vizier, at a very respectable age, reacted with the reflexes of a young man. He reached for and grabbed Atemu's Puzzle, and tugged at it, hard. Atemu brought up his hands to push the man away, but he could barely lift his arms.

"Shimon?" His vision started to blur. "What is going on? What are you doing..."

Shimon grabbed the cord attached to the Puzzle and slipped it over Atemu's head. He protested, but only a weak mewl left his throat. Slowly, powerlessly, he stretched his hand in an effort to grab the Puzzle. Shimon stared at him, an amused smirk on his face. "Shimon..!"

The vizier remained standing, his hands holding the Puzzle, dangling it tauntingly in front of Atemu, a calculating grin on his face was visible. With his last strength, Atemu managed to get up from his chair, supporting himself on the table, but his attempt was futile. His grip on the table slipped and he fell on his knees, his senses numbing and giving into the sudden tiredness claiming him. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and he couldn't do a thing against it. The water... the fresh water...! He tried to protest, to muster up his strength, but it was too late. Atemu fell on his side, his body giving out on him. He closed his eyes. Shimon chuckled.

"Sweet dreams, Pharaoh," he said, voice low. "They'll be your last for a long time to come."


When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see. He was enveloped by darkness; a pitch black darkness, frightening cold and silent. Atemu groaned as pain shot through his body; someone kicked his back. He tried to collect his bearings, but the pain and discomfort made it difficult for him to determine his environment. He was lying on the rough ground and sand scrubbed his face, legs and his arms. Atemu suddenly realized that his hands were tied behind his back. Fighting the fear and panic rising in his heart, he managed to prop himself up on one elbow, scraping his skin. He focused on a small light in the distance, a pale candle flame. Where there was light, there was...

"Awake already, dearest Pharaoh?"

Atemu cringed. He had heard that voice before and frankly, he had hoped to never hear it again.

"Bakura," he hissed and coughed at the same time. His throat felt like mountains of sand had been poured into it. He coughed again.

"Poor you," Bakura said. "Would you like some water?" He laughed.

"Bastard! Fiend!" Atemu didn't feel the need to watch his language in the presence of the thief. "What did you do to Shimon?"

"Shimon? The old man?" Bakura leaned forward and grabbed Atemu by the front of his shenti, his sharp nails ripping the fabric. "I didn't do anything. He brought it upon himself."

"Liar," Atemu spat at him.

Bakura laughed again and lifted Atemu up, bringing their faces extremely close. "I'm a thief, not a liar. Don't ever call me a liar again, Pharaoh. Look for yourself. You woke up a little too early for the ritual. He hasn't finished the preparations yet."

"What ritual?" Bakura didn't answer and instead released his grip on him. Atemu fell to the ground again, holding back a cry of pain. He tilted his head into the direction of the light. More candles had been lit and now he was able to discern the figure in the background, walking back and forth. "Shimon!"

The man halted mid-step, then slowly turned towards Atemu. "I told you to keep him quiet," he said. Atemu was shocked. He didn't sound like Shimon at all! This low, menacing, growling voice didn't fit the man he had known as calm, friendly and compassionate.

"Shimon, what happened to you? You-" his sentence was cut short as Bakura struck his temple and he lost consciousness again.


"Pharaoh, please wake up!"

"Pharaoh, tell me you're all right!"

"Atemu... Atemu!"

The myriad of voices brought him back from the darkness. Atemu opened his eyes, blinking again. He was immediately reminded of the physical pain he was in; a pounding headache, a sore throat, nausea, numerous cuts and bruises and his back felt like an entire army had walked upon it. He didn't recognize where he was. Somewhere underground, as there was no natural daylight: the large room was illuminated by candles and oil lamps. He gasped as he saw the others. His Priests, Mana and Kisara, bound with their hands behind their backs and forced on their knees, were in front of him. Atemu was aghast. They looked worse for wear and to his dismay, Kisara's eyes were closed. He could see she was breathing, albeit labored, and she looked extremely frail. She was supported by Set who twisted his torso to make sure she was leaning on him, but the worried look on his face wasn't for Kisara only. Atemu realized that everybody was worried about him. Why were they all looking so guilty? Ashamed, embarrassed? What had happened?

"I think everyone's ready now?" Shimon shuffled between them, carrying a blazing torch. His usual calm expression was still the same, however his eyes carried a hungry, menacing glare. "Shimon!" Atemu called out to him. "What are you doing? Stop this!"

"It's too late," Shimon said. "There's nothing you can do about it now, Pharaoh." He pointed at Atemu's chest and as he looked down, his heart skipped a beat. No Puzzle. He'd been too occupied to realize the loss of the familiar weight. "You probably want to know where it is." He used the torch to point towards a huge stone slab, raised a little above the ground. Atemu craned his neck to see what it was. He'd never seen it before and amidst the carvings he spotted the seven Sennen Items, of himself and his Priests: Puzzle, Ring, Rod, Tauk, Eye, Ankh, Scales.

"We are in an underground shrine, below Kuru Eruna," Shimon said. He handed the torch over to a grinning Bakura. "The city of thieves."

"City of thieves," Atemu repeated. He racked his brain. The name of the city vaguely, very vaguely, rang a bell. "Why are we here?"

"Great Pharaoh, forgive me," a weak voice came from his right. Atemu had noticed Akunadin amongst the Priests, glad to see him alive. He swallowed at the man's ghastly appearance now that the Eye had been forcefully removed from his face, the streaks of dried blood still showing. "It's my fault. Your father, he didn't know. I lied to him, I misled him. Forgive me, please!"

"It's always the same," Shimon sighed dramatically. "They all start to snivel and squirm when things turn sour, begging and pleading for forgiveness and their lives. Pathetic!"

"Shimon!" Atemu was shocked. This couldn't be the loyal vizier who had served at least two generations of the royal family. And as for Akunadin... he had lied and misled? "Akunadin... what are you talking about?"

"Yes Akunadin, what are you talking about?" Bakura parroted him sarcastically. "Do tell him about the people you killed, do tell him about the entire village you slaughtered in the name of the Pharaoh?"

Akunadin lowered his head, strands of matted grey hair falling in front of his face. He was too overcome with emotions to speak. Mahaado locked eyes with Atemu, pleading.

"Great Pharaoh," he said, "a grave error was made by him, to..."

"A grave error?" Bakura lashed out and grabbed Mahaado at the collar, roughly shaking him. "Everyone I knew was chopped in pieces, put in a cauldron and cooked! You call that a 'grave error'?"

Cauldron? Cooked? Atemu shivered from Bakura's words.

"He does not know," Mahaado said. "It is not his fault!"

"The sins of the father pass on to the son," Bakura growled.

"No, please!" Mahaado cried out. "Take your anger out on me. I did not tell him. It is my fault!"

"Master!" Mana cried.

"No!" Atemu tried to get up. "Stop this, all of this!"

Bakura dropped Mahaado and the Priest tumbled to the ground. Instead, the thief grabbed Mana and roughly tugged at her hair.

"Mana!" Atemu yelled. "Bastard! Let her go!"

The thief cackled out loud and dragged the girl over the ground. Mana squirmed and kicked her legs, but she refused to scream in pain. Her struggle amused Bakura and he continued to drag her, yanking at her hair.

"Let her go, Bakura!" Atemu said. "Let her go!"

"May I remind you," Bakura said belligerently, "that you're in no position to command, Pharaoh? You don't have your Puzzle, you're a prisoner! I have your cute little friend here, and a whole flock of Priests who I'm going to enjoy torturing, and you can do nothing but watch and yell pitifully."

Atemu growled. His eyes traveled over to the stone slab, holding the Sennen Items. His Puzzle was set in the middle, and he couldn't reach it by far... he struggled against his restraints, the skin on his wrists chafing and burning from the friction of the rope. With sadistic pleasure, Bakura had tied the knots so tightly, that he was losing the feeling in his fingers. "Let her go! What is it you want, thief?"

"What I want? How could you even ask that, Pharaoh? You know what I want. It's quite simple, and it lies right in front of you!"

Atemu didn't understand. Kuru Eruna, city of thieves... what had this to do with his father? Akunadin mentioned lying and deceit, but why? He sought out Shimon, but the elderly man was just standing there, doing nothing. Bakura cast Mana aside. Along with Aishizu and Kisara, her hands were tied in front of her and she tried to catch her fall, gritting her teeth as her skin was cut open by the rocky ground.

"I don't want your throne," Bakura said. "I'm not interested in politics."

"Bakura..." Atemu had trouble getting upright and finding his balance without the use of his arms. His feet scraped over the ground, searching for support. Think! King of Thieves. Kuru Eruna. City of Thieves. Bakura. "You send an assassin after me. You attacked me in my own quarters. You took my Puzzle. This is all about me! Let the others go!"

"Don't be so vain." Bakura grinned. "It's not all about you. You're a King, but I'm also a King."

"You're not doing this on your own," Atemu pointed out.

"I'm a free man," Bakura snapped at him, "but I don't say 'no' to a little bit of help, or rather, a nice offer. Death and destruction, plunging the whole nation into a war, bringing darkness and despair! Who would be able to refuse that?"

"Death and destruction? Bakura!" Atemu dug his heels into the ground and finally managed to straighten himself. He swayed a little as his muscles protested after lying down in a cramped position for so long. "A war? Are you working for the Syrian delegates?"

"Are you really that stupid?" Bakura snorted derisively. "Do you think I care about their precious merchant route?"

"I do not believe you," Atemu said.

Snarling, Bakura walked over to him, red coat flapping angrily around his ankles. He closed the distance with a few steps, lifting up his hand as he strode towards Atemu and backhanded him. He would've fallen to the ground again if it weren't for Karim catching his fall. The Priest, using his height and strength, positioned himself quickly behind Atemu so he wouldn't topple over. Set, Mahaado and Shaadah had also managed to stand up, their robes showing torn fabric, their exposed skin cuts and bruises. They looked defiant in their desire to protect their Pharaoh, and didn't appreciate him being abused like this. Set narrowed his eyes at Bakura.

"You do not seem the type to work for another person," the High Priest said. "Who has you under control?"

The thief growled. "Don't get smart with me, Priest. You all are nothing but a grain of sand in my eyes, and you'll see soon enough who 'has me under control'...by then, you won't be laughing, you'll only cry in despair, when he'll tear you apart limb for limb, blood-"

He was interrupted by Mahaado, who threw all his weight against the thief, catching him off guard. Bakura yelped in surprise and he wavered in an attempt to maintain his balance. Shaadah used the distraction to move behind Bakura and simply stuck his foot out, so the thief tripped. Set was about to kick Bakura in the stomach, his personal anger flaring, when a harsh voice rang out.

"Enough!"

The vizier's voice had dramatically changed, as had the expression on his face. His features were dark and grotesquely etched into his skin, razor sharp and intimidating. Everyone fell silent, even Bakura.

"Get up," he barked at the thief. "Play time is over." Bakura muttered something inaudible, but he obeyed and got back up on his feet, dusting off his cloak. "All of you, on your knees." The Priests obeyed as well, after exchanging some insecure looks. They subconsciously decided that it was for the best to obey, at the moment. Set moved back to Kisara again; she was leaning on Aishizu and Mana was next to her, hands shaking. Atemu knew that Shimon wasn't here to save them. This wasn't Shimon at all.

"It's time," the vizier said. "Soon, the Dark God will rise and he'll need a body to live again." His eyes rested on Atemu. "A young, strong body. Pharaoh, you'll be nothing but an empty shell, serving the Darkness for in eternity."

"No!" Mahaado wailed. "Take my body! It is not his fault!"

"Shut up!" Bakura shook his fist at him.

"Do not dare touch him!" Atemu took a step forward. "Leave him alone!"

"You sicken me, oh great Pharaoh," Bakura sneered. "You and your father, believing yourselves to be Gods! All good and greatness and righteous, but you slaughtered an entire village for your misguided sense of 'justice'!" He took a step back so he came to stand next to Shimon, his tall, strong physique a stark contrast with the small, pudgy vizier. "Thanks to your own 'grave error', this great entity of Darkness can come into existence! Before, he had to leech off of the darkness in other people's hearts, and use this body," he pointed at Shimon, "to sustain himself in this world!"

It was strange to feel relief at this moment, but Atemu was glad that he'd been right all along. Shimon was controlled by this dark entity, who or whatever it was; this wasn't his own choice!

"Enough talk. We have the Items, now we need the Eighth Key."

The hungry, feral look on Bakura's face when he turned to him, made Atemu's knees tremble. He'd never felt so much anger and hatred directed at him before.

"Now it's your turn to play an important part, Pharaoh," Bakura said, licking his lips. He grabbed Atemu at his upper arm and painfully lugged him towards the stone slab, holding all the Items. He all but threw Atemu on top of it and pressed his foot on his chest, casually pulling out a knife.

"The Eighth Key is your name," he said. "Say it out loud. Now!"

"No Pharaoh, don't!" Shaadah yelled.

"Great Pharaoh, do not say your name!" Mahaado begged him. "Please!"

Karim's voice was thick. "Don't, Great Pharaoh, don't..."

Atemu turned his head to look at his Priests. They were all calling out to him, begging him not to say his name. They were battered and bruised, but their spirits weren't broken. Even now, when facing the summoning of a dark God, they would still rather die for him than allowing anything to happen to him. His body hurt. He couldn't feel his arms anymore. He was sure Bakura had relieved him of his dia d'iankh. How was he ever able to summon a God without it?

"Say your name," Shimon said, "or I have Bakura take care of the women first. Then your Priests, one by one. Slowly, very slowly."

Bakura waved his knife in front of his face. There was no doubt about it, he would make sure his victim would suffer, and the thought of Mana, Aishizu or Kisara at the mercy of this man...

"Do not do it! Do not say your name!" Mahaado and Set cried out to him. "Great Pharaoh!"

He didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to sacrifice the people he loved and cared for. Whatever his father had done, whatever Akunadin had said to him, Atemu refused to believe that his sense of justice was misguided. Bakura tightened the grip on his knife, eager to pick his first victim. Atemu took his decision.

"I am the son of Akunamukanon," he said, his voice carrying far, "my name is Atemu!"

The stone slab immediately started to shine with a bright light. It was too intense for his eyes, and Atemu averted his head. A single thought fluttered through his mind as the light increased even more. Strange that a god of Darkness is summoned with so much light. Bakura pulled him from away from the slab, throwing him once more on the ground. Atemu rolled over and scrambled to get back up again. He didn't want to be on his knees when this dark God emerged. If he were to die at this deity's hands, he would go down fighting, not submitting. Shimon watched the whole ritual as calmly as ever, plucking absent-mindedly at his beard. The bright light died down and a gust of wind swept through the large room. Shadows crawled over the walls, and a dark mass rose from the stone slab. The Items had lost their brilliance, only a faint shimmer was visible. The wind howled and dissolved into a growl, a low moan, and the shadows started to take shape.


-------------------



  Chapter 14 | Chapter 16 |