I've Got Soul

By TheNakedKing

Author's Note: This is part of The Monoltih Project and is the original rough draft of the first four chapters of Monolith. I appreciate feedback on this because I plan to rewrite as extensively as I can.

In the course of saving the ones we love, sacrifices are oftentimes made.

It was something he had always been taught, that ruling would mean sacrifice and conscription to his duties. In becoming King he was not becoming the ruler of a people, but a symbol of a nation, its humble servant and protector. As much as they would try to shower him with glory, he must never accept it. Transversely, when things went wrong he would be the one to take the blame.

There were no shortcuts to be had in ruling. One must do it with dignity and grace.

In short, it required a sort of divine patience, longsuffering, and benevolence that would transcend the understanding of anything a normal person might experience.

When Khnum had fashioned Atem on his wheel, he must have forgotten to give him those specific traits.

At this point in time, Atem's fingers were rapping impatiently against the armrest of his chair, the sound echoing throughout the grand throne chamber, earning him glances from the priests. He tried to still himself, truly he did, but he could feel his interest waning even as his father proclaimed on another criminal.

He had seen this procedure ten times ten times before, perhaps more than that, and he knew exactly how it happened. He knew that the priests would perform before his father to drag the corrupted Ka Spirits out of the bodies of the criminal in an attempt to cleanse them. He knew that the aforementioned Ka Spirit would then be sealed within a stone tablet to be used by the priests themselves at a future date. And of course he knew that this was all accomplished through the use of the Millennium Item's, his father's crowning achievement and the very thing that had granted the nation its current level of peace and prosperity.

Atem simply could not bring himself to care.

It took him a great deal of effort to even keep his eyes open, despite the fact that his father constantly harped to him about the importance of such ceremonies. He honestly did not see why it mattered. It was not as if the King did anything other than watch his priests do the job he should have been doing himself. If this was so important, why did his father play no part?

The drumming of his fingers stopped when a weathered palm grasped his wrist, forcing him to look up into the eyes of an unoccupied priest.

Ahkenaden started down into the Crown Prince's eyes with an expression on his face that was a clear mixture of annoyance and anger. Atem had known Ahkenaden his entire life, and wondered when the priest planned to retire since so many others had already handed on the legacy of their respective Items. If Ahkenaden retired that would be one less annoyingly paternal presence in his life, and with the way every elder male of proper rank within the boundaries of Thebes seemed to scold him for one thing or another, the idea was one the Prince could not help but court.

The look in Ahkenaden's one good eye, though, was enough to quell the Prince's restless fingers; at least for the time being.

Atem turned his attention back to the trial. Judgment was to be proclaimed upon a man who had secretly killed off all his wives in order to receive their property upon their deaths. It was a deplorable act, and Atem could almost see the corpses in his mind's eye. Had he been a richer man, the cost of embalming the women might have been more than what he had gained in killing them. It might have been a deterrent; seldom will the greedy act courageously.

His interest was soon lost again, however. The concerns of these people, though certainly valid and pressing, were not his job. He was young and should be utilizing his vitality instead of wasting his time here in the presence of priests and criminals. Did his father not constantly preach to him on not wasting these "good years"? Why, then, was he cooped up here instead of out making use of his energy?

Catching his eye of his father stopped any further thoughts of complaint on his part, though. When the King demanded that you pay attention that is what you did, even if the King was your father.

Especially if the King was your father.

That being said, the rest of the procession dragged on even more slowly than the first half, for without the luxury that daydreams had afforded him, every painful detail seemed to draw out the moments to an unnecessarily slow pace. Three farmers were cleared of all charges and investigations into the real perpetrators of their crimes were incited, though the murderer and a woman running a gambling scheme to cheat temple workers out of their wages did receive appropriate punishment.

When trial at last ended, Atem stood but did not dismiss himself. It was not his place. He stood at attention, awaiting his father's ascent for his departure, but instead received the dismissal of the priests.

Immediately, his heart fell.

Guards remained stationed at the doors, but the priests shuffled away, their robes rustling as they left Atem alone with his father, who sat upon his throne, looking very much as he always did to Atem. That was to say, ageless and perpetually disappointed in his son's performance.

The King was a harsh looking man with a sun worn face and dark brown eyes that commanded whatever remaining respect his considerable stature didn't already afford him. He looked nothing like his slender son, who right now stood in front of him, seeming fragile beneath the considerable weight of his gold. Atem felt abashed underneath his father's gaze, but he did not take his eyes away from that face.

He was the one person in the kingdom who could look his father in the eye and he would not balk at the challenge he was certain his father was presenting him with.

"You seem distracted," commented the king almost off handedly. "Tell me, what is so important that your mind wanders from your duty? Surely it must be substantially important for you to neglect your vital training?"

"I have no excuse," it was always best to be honest or it would come back to haunt him later.

Ever since his elder brothers had died, one in war the other in a hunting accident, his father had began to impose all his hopes of a proper king onto Atem. The results had run his son ragged more than once, but Atem doubted he noticed. These days he had less and less time to spare for Atem his son and more and more duties to relegate to Atem the Crown Prince.

Sometimes he missed his father, though right now was not one of those times.

"Then you mean to tell me that you have simply allowed your mind to drift whilst you were supposed to be heeding the words of the priests?" his father's voice was ever stern, and his eyes sharp with disappointment.

Atem might have been affected by that disappointment at one time, but now he had grown accustomed to it.

Sighing heavily, the King continued to speak down to his son. "You cannot keep this up any longer, Atem. It has been said to you again and again that you must take responsibility. Foolish men, men who are lazy and insolent, possess the kind of behavior you are currently exhibiting. You must quit this nonsense. I will not be alive forever … "

The prince understood that his father was not immortal. He could see it in the lines of his aging face, worn by sun, sand and time. His father had reigned for 40 long years, and though he was getting older he was still very strong. Atem could not imagine his father dying any time in the near future.

He could not argue with his father, for he was King. Atem humbly accepted his judgment with a bow of his head and words of hushed agreement, though he could tell his father did not believe him. Atem did feel a bit guilty, and promised himself that he would attempt to pay more attention next time.

"Very well. You are dismissed," his father slouched a bit in his throne, though it was barely noticeable. He looked tired. "You are going fishing with your friends, correct?"

"I am, Majesty."

"Please, promise me you will be careful," in the lines around his father's eyes Atem could see the anguish the King still suffered over the death of his sons. "Remember how your brother died."

"I will not be reckless, my King," Atem muttered, unable to begrudge his father this concern. Sometimes the image of the mutilated corpse of his brother, distorted beyond all recognition, still gave him nightmares. "I promise you that your son will return alive."

The look Atem received then reminded him of the way his father had been before the death of his brothers. Those eyes were kind and filled with concern, and he fondly recalled the days before he was in line for the crown, when he and his father would play sennet and speak of the future. It was so different now, with the expectation that he would rule the kingdom upon his shoulders.

Without another word, his father waved his hand and dismissed him.

After a simple bow, Atem swept from the room, his heart still heavy with the weight of his father's words. He missed those simpler days, but as he walked ever onward his mood was lightened by the prospect of escaping his responsibilities for a few days.

This trip with his friends had been long in the planning, and it had been difficult to get his father to agree, all things considered, but it would do him good. He needed to be away for awhile, to refresh his perspective on the world, and this brief hiatus from his life and training were his best chance at doing this.

The preparations, which he had seen to himself, should already be complete, and his friends should be waiting for him. They were all noble boys that he had gone to school with in The House of Life. He had spent years with them and they were his friends, people who he could laugh and relax with, even if his rank was higher than theirs. As it was, it had been far too long since he had seen them.

Speaking of which …

At the end of his trek down the hall he saw them, the three of them standing and laughing together. When they saw him they waved him over, quickly explaining to him about their escapades with a servant girl that they apparently found incredibly attractive. Atem laughed when they mentioned how their task master had yelled at them when he had noticed, and could almost imagine the man's line of reasoning in postponing their punishment until after the trip.

He supposed that canceling the Crown Prince's fishing trip was not an excellent idea.

"This will be wonderful," Maya laughed, his arm still lingering around Nebwawi's shoulder. "My father was so happy when you invited me. Of course he is thinking of future political gain."

"Never mind him, Maya," Senunmut, who hung a little to his brother's right, interjected. "Father has no idea what Prince Atem is actually like, nor does he understand that this trip is no political meeting."

"Just a friendly outing," Nebwawi said with an easy grin. "Correct, Prince Atem?"

"Of course. I can't imagine why I would want to take politics with me when I deal with them every day otherwise," Atem crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you all prepared? Our supplies are meeting us at the gates."

Maya dropped his arm and scuttled after Atem, who had already set out, Sen by his side. Neb was not far behind them.

The three of them were a bit strange at times, but Atem was certain every official's son was somewhat eccentric. They had trained together for years and the three of them were amiable and good hearted, better friends he could not have asked for. He would rather spend his time with them than almost anyone else.

Soon enough they reached their supplies, enough for a few days of fishing not far from here. It was not as if they would be into the howling wild, for his father had forbidden such an expedition, so they would be close enough to society if something happened. Atem did not think that he should be difficult to find should his father need to contact him for any reason.

As they received their goods, Atem caught the eyes of Priest Set, who had apparently wandered out here, perhaps specifically to spy on him. Set's attitude had always annoyed him, but Atem tried his best to ignore it. They, too, had been raised together, though Set was a few years older than he was (something Set had always seen to it that he knew in one way or another). He had also made a point of constantly attempting to outperform Atem in anything and everything they did together, a habit that was annoying, if somewhat useful, since the competition had ways of making him try harder.

Turning his eyes away from his childhood rival, Atem turned away and walked through the gates with his friends.