Revolutions

"And they all lived happily ever after." Seto had said three years ago to this day, watching as his Pharaoh had disappeared before his eyes. It was a comment filled with relief and exhaustion, but with an edge of irony to it. Deep down he knew that the defeat of Zorc would not be the last test of strength that he would have to face, and that his new life as ruler of Egypt would throw trial after trial at him.

The words of three years past slithered through the throne chamber, swirling about vast pillars and pooling in the deepest shadows. Laughs, shouts, calls of camaraderie all seemed to echo from the high ceiling, hanging in the air like a thick smoke. The fires that lined the path to the throne were low, barely helping to combat the gloom and heaving darkness. There was one occupant of the room, sitting on the golden throne itself, arms and legs spread wide as if trapped in some horrific web. It looked like a vain attempt to make himself seem larger and more imposing, his body being so small and frail. One could tell at a glance that he had once been blessed with a powerful build, but stresses, strains and neglect had taken their toll, leaving him with the malnourished form of the deeply ill. A golden, pyramid-shaped puzzle hung on a chain about his neck, resting on a sunken-looking chest. Intense eyes were set deep in their sockets, ringed by dark bags that stood in contrast to his now pale skin. He stared into nothingness, eyes glazed as he nervously chewed his lower lip, not noticing or not caring as a line of dark blood rolled down his chin.

The words of a younger, more naive man drifted over the stone and to his ears. "And they all lived happily ever after". Seto the Honourable, Pharoah of Egypt, ruler of the greatest empire on earth, wept alone in his throne room.

"People of Egypt! Wake up and stand tall!" The voice was clear, loud, unfaltering. A practiced speech, from the lips of a man who knew just how to get his point across. He stood atop the counter of a pottery stall, arms raised high as he addressed the citizens that milled at his feet. "Bandits pillage our lands from the north! Criminals walk among us unchecked! And what do our guards do? Nothing! What do our armies do? Nothing! What does our Pharaoh, the man who should put his people before everything do? He does nothing! He sits in his palace and rots, uncaring of his subjects or their plight! Rise up, people of Egypt! Bring down this unfit ruler and show him that we matter!"

The tips of spears appeared from within the crowd, slowly bobbing as the local guards pushed their way to the front, forming a semi-circle around the agitant.

"Get down from there," their leader said, lowering his spear so that it was level with the man's stomach. His voice was calm, quiet. He didn't want to push this situation past its already dangerous level. "You will stop this at once or face retribution."

"You see!" The man said, gesturing wildly, the sleeves of his grey robes jumping about. "When outside forces move to attack us, our Pharaoh sits by idly, but when someone takes a stand against this injustice, he is quick to silence them! Will you allow such a corrupt ruler to hold sway over your lives?" Even as he spoke, the man was edging towards the rear of his platform, taking a quick glance back before he leapt down, kicking over the stall at the guards and fleeing into a nearby alley as fast as he could. He sprinted between the low stone houses, kicking up sand as he turned another corner, coming face to face with a group of tall men in black and red robes. He doubled up, holding his side and wheezing as he came to a stop.

"Were you successful?" One of the three asked, his voice deep and possessed of a strange accent. The only response he got was a waving hand gesture from the panting man, motioning back towards the corner he had emerged from. The largest of the group walked past him, placing a hand on the corner of the house and glancing around it. He chuckled, a low and dry noise from behind a thick gauze around his mouth. In the street, a full-blown riot was beginning to form. The citizens had advanced quickly on the guards, bringing them down through sheer weight of numbers. The bodies couldn't be seen through the churning crowd, but based on the single spear rising and falling frantically above their heads, the dark-robed man could see that the locals had made short work of these guards, fury and quantity outweighing weapons and training. The first seeds of rebellion had been sown.

Seto stood on the soft, cool grass of an oasis staring out to the centre of the deep pool before him. A familiar figure was standing on the still waters, hands behind her back, slowly making her way forwards. Kisara's footsteps made no ripples, nor did they make any sound as she came closer and closer to the Pharaoh. She was dressed exactly the same way as he remembered seeing her last, but her skin appeared to be alive with liquid light, running as though it were made of water, making her look like she was made of stark moonlight.

Seto sank to his knees, not saying a word. His eyes filled, and tears rolled freely, but his face was awash with joy. His lips pulled into a smile, something that had been an unfamiliar concept to him for so long now. Kisara stepped onto the grass, one hand appearing from behind her back and cupping his chin. A slender thumb drifted over his skin and luscious blue eyes locked with his own.

"Why did you come here Seto?" She asked. Her voice was like gossamer, light to the point of ethereal. The Pharoah could feel it settling into every fibre of his mind.

"I had to..." He answered, his own voice seeming so earthy and real by comparison. His throat felt dusty and dry, and he coughed. "I thought I could do this alone, Kisara. But without you next to me I-"

"Well that doesn't sound like you at all," She cut him off, smiling broadly and sweetly. "Come on. Get up." She lowered her hands to his, slowly helping him to his feet. Almost pressed right against each other, their faces were barely an inch apart. "You're going to need to be strong, Seto," she told him. "Soon you'll have to face a challenge, and you'll get nowhere on your knees."

"But what do I-" Seto was cut off again, this time by the white-haired girl pressing her lips to his, her hands on his shoulders. He wasn't sure when the kiss ended, but when he opened his eyes, Kisara was once again standing in the centre of the oasis.

"Be strong Seto. Stronger than you've ever been before..." She slowly began to sink into the black water, still with that warming smile on her lips.

Pharaoh Seto opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling of his chambers at the palace. He turned his head, gazing out into the darkness outside, beyond his balcony. Still night-time. He sighed, pulling himself from his bed. Once again it appeared he wouldn't be getting a full night's sleep...

Only a few miles from the palace walls, the heads of the revolution met. Sitting on the floor in a circle, they all wore robes of black and red, with hoods drawn and thick veils covering most of their faces. At the centre of the circle, a slender figure in a collection of black and crimson sashes sat with his head tilted backwards. His entire face was covered by the enclosed mask he wore, depicting a snake's head in gold and emeralds. The group were silent, all of them watching intently as their leader slowly lowered his head, breathing deeply.

"What did you see, Master Nefersebhis?" Asked one of the assembled figures. His voice was youthful, energetic and with a hint of fear.

"Give him time!" Another shouted, a much older man by the sounds of things, and one who had only recently learned the language of Egypt. "He will talk when he is recovered."

"I saw the Pharaoh," came their leader's voice. Everyone assembled seemed to lean forward slightly, each focused on nothing else but the words of the masked man. He lifted his hands to the sides of the mask, slowly lifting it from his head and allowing long black hair to tumble free. Scraps of cloth and dyed hair, all the same deep red as his sashes, were woven in at various places, and tiny ornaments of carved bone clattered together as the thick hair settled. He was a young man, perhaps barely twenty, with a face that most artists could only dream of capturing. He was fiendishly beautiful, with dark skin over delicate features and rich brown eyes surrounded by thick make-up. His neck and face were riddled with tattoos, hieroglyphs and other, older symbols, with meanings more sinister than their diminutive shapes would suggest.

Silence settled on the group for a long time before Nefersebhis spoke again. "He stood at an oasis, speaking with the girl."

"The girl?" The first speaker asked before bowing his head quickly as he was shot a murderous glance by one of his older companions.

"The one who carried the great White Dragon within her," Nefersebhis raised his hand to his face, rubbing his aching eyes. "I could feel a great confusion in his soul. He has lost a battle without realising it. He could not keep two spirits separate. His own and that of the dragon appear to have merged. In his dreams, the girl takes on his strengths and passions. In the land of the waking, he becomes as he saw her, a precious life in need of protection."

"So that's why he's shut himself away these past few years," the young speaker said again, plucking up the courage to ignore the angry stares of the others. "He is losing the battle to be as he was."

"Correct." Nefersebhis winced as he stood up, taking a deep breath. "We must act quickly. If I am right, he may begin to make peace between his two spirits. The strength of the Priest King, and the strength of the white-haired girl. I doubt even a hundred times our forces could stand against him..."

Seto had spent the day in a blaze of activity. He had rushed through the corridors of the palace, tracking down every single collection of maps that he could get his hands on, stunning the royal attendants with his sudden burst of energy. Strength had returned to his body, and moving no longer seemed like the painful chore that it once had been. The Pharaoh looked to be making up for lost time, almost skipping down the halls, a bundle of rolled papyrus under his arm. He hefted the collection of scrolls and parchments into his throne room, casting them to the floor and unravelling them one by one. Somewhere here he would find clues to point to the direction of that oasis. He knew it had to exist. Somewhere out in the desert surrounding his kingdom, Kisara was waiting for him. How she had survived, he had no idea, just as he had no idea why she would be out alone in the middle of the desert. But she was communicating to him through his dreams, which meant that she had to be alive out there, he was sure of it.

From dawn until sunset, Seto researched every map in the palace. He scoured them for even the tiniest mention of an oasis like the one he saw. He had to find it. He had to see her again. He had to...

Gently, Seto lowered himself to the ground. His heavy eyelids slowly shut and he fell asleep with his head resting on the final map.

As the Sun drifted below the horizon, staining the sky a rich pallette of oranges and reds, the revolution began in earnest. Hundreds, thousands of peasants, slaves and red-robed cultists took to the streets. They had no real weaponry to speak of, save for the occasional farming implement or family heirloom. In a straight fight they would be no match for an armed guard. To tip the balance they came as a horde, swarming towards the palace at the centre of the city. They walked slowly, not wanting to tire themselves before they stormed the building and brought down the Pharaoh, providing an imposing sight to the guards that watched from the Palace walls. They looked like a solid mass of angry, zeal-filled bodies, poised to snap at any moment and rush their target in one frenzied tidal wave of violence.

Several of the red-robed figures stood at the front of the mob walking backwards, their backs turned to the palace. They screamed and shouted, punching their fists into the air.

"Now is the time, Children of Egypt!"

"By dawn, we will have taken this land back!"

"Down with the uncaring Pharaoh Seto!"

"He has no respect for you, his own subjects! Only one man will stand up for you! Shout his name Children of Egypt!"

As one, the crowd roared "Nefersebhis" again and again. The noise deafening, rolling against the walls of the palace like a siege weapon.

Dressed in his sashes and golden mask, Nefersebhis walked to the front of the crowd, raising his arms to halt them as he stood at the gates of the palace...

"Captain, we must act quickly!" The young soldier pleaded, his face filled with panic. "Their leader stands at our gates. If we kill him this will be over. One archer could end this rebellion in an instant! Remove the head of this monster and stop it in its tracks!"

His captain looked over the edge of the palace walls, his eyes scanning over the crowd before finally locking on their leader. He didn't change his grim expression as he turned to his soldiers, putting his hand to the pommel of his sword. "Open the gates." He said quietly.

"But captain-"

"Open the gates," he repeated. None of his soldiers moved. "For three years we have done nothing while our Pharaoh has fallen into madness and sickness. We have failed to keep this country safe under his rule. At least now we can make a change for the better. Let them through and no-one has to die. Open the gates."

All but one of the soliders moved to carry out the command. The youngest, who had first raised the idea to kill the mob's leader stood alone, staring down his captain.

"I will not betray my Pharaoh," He said, his voice breaking as fear started to grip him. His captain said nothing. He drew his sword and thrust it into the boy's chest, his face set in stone as he twisted the blade. The young soldier crumpled to his knees. All across the palace, similar acts of treachery and murder were being perpetrated as men fell against their commanders and each other. Within the hour, the mob were within the palace and any who remained loyal to the Pharaoh were either dead, fleeing or in hiding.

Seto rushed through the desert sand, his eyes fixed on the oasis ahead of him. He was so close now! He could almost feel the electric tingling touch of her voice settling into his body again. He sprinted over the grass, straight into the cooling water. Without stopping for an instant, the Pharaoh dived, kicking his legs with more force than he thought he was capable of. He propelled himself downwards, towards the shimmering white light at the bottom of the pool. As he got closer, he saw that it was rising to meet him, arms outstretched. Kisara floated upwards, wrapping herself around the Priest King, her lips brushing against his...

Flanked by his most able conspirators, Nefersebhis approached the throne room. The two guards that stood outside lowered their polearms, hunching down and getting ready to charge. Typical, the revolution leader thought. The further into the palace they had gotten, the more loyal the servants they had found. With a resentful sigh, he lifted his arm, clicking his fingers. Six red-robed followers launched themselves at the guards, long, thin blades falling in broad arcs. The fight was short and costly, leaving both loyal guards dead, and only two heavily wounded revolutionaries standing.

Nefersebhis strode to the doors of the throne room, kicking it open with a disdainful grunt.

"Why did you come here Seto?" Kisara asked him again. The two of them lay on the top of the pool, gazing up at the moon hanging low, full and bright.

"I need to know," he answered, his voice gaining in the confidence and strength that were once his hallmarks. "I need to know what's happening. Are you real, Kisara? Are you just a dream? Is this a way for you to communicate with me from beyond the grave? Are you still alive out there? Am I just going insane?"

There was silence for a while and then...

"Yes." She answered.

"Yes?"

"Yes. And no."

"That doesn't help me much." Seto said, frowning. The white-haired girl giggled. "What's so funny?"

"You're back."

He could feel it too. The physical strength coming back. The willpower flowing back into him. His mind strengthening. His desire to protect, to prove his worth. His contempt for disrespect, for timewasters and criminals. It felt like he had come home again, no longer a stranger in his own skin.

"Kisara..." He turned to her, treading water. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't start that," she said, smiling. "Apologising doesn't strike me as being a very Seto thing to do."

"I mean it," he insisted, layering his words with every ounce of his rediscovered strength. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for everything that happened."

"I'm not."

"No?"

"Not even a little." Kisara slowly began to drift away, floating on her back across the pool. "Even with the low points, I don't regret anything."

"I think dying goes beyond being a 'low-point'," Seto said with a grin, unconsciously kicking his feet, pushing him in the opposite direction.

"It's not so bad." Her words were quieter now, she seemed so far away. "Especially when you know it's for someone you love."

Another heavy silence.

Seto swallowed, his jaw trembling. "Kisara! I lo-"

The Pharaoh woke up with a start, his head lifting from the map. He had never felt more rested in his life. He felt stronger than ever, filled with a purpose to turn everything around. He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling a dull ache in his arms. He had a lot of work ahead of him. But then, work was what he thrived on. From now on he would avoid any dull moments. He sighed, breathing out the last of his old, broken self as he started to push himself up to his knees.

Silent as death itself and twice as cold, the knife pierced his back, sinking between his ribs. Seto's eyes widened as he felt hard metal slide past his skin and muscle. A shuddering gasp as the blade was pulled away before driving back down again, puncturing his back again and again. The newfound strength left his arms and the Pharaoh collapsed to the ground, a confused look on his face as fog filled his vision.

Nefersebhis pulled his knife free, thinking about going for a few more strikes but deciding against it. He rolled the dying Pharoah onto his back with his foot, his masked head cocking to the side as he watched the ruler's final moments.

"Oh guards," the murderer called. "Come pick this up will you?"

Revolutionaries carrying weaponry pilfered from the armoury entered, all of them looking in wonder at the splendour of the throne room. Nefersebhis cleared his throat, motioning towards the man at his feet. "Make sure to burn it somewhere will you? I'm sure there will be plenty of fires around by now..."

They lifted Seto, hoisting him over their heads as they left the throne room, talking excitedly amongst themselves. They were loud enough to drown out the final, wheezing words of Pharoah Seto as he quietly passed away.

"Kisara... Kisara..."