HottieKatie
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deleted thread (sorry, my mistake!)
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Egyptian Runaway
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swordandsandle
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To the gods, he was simply known as Brother, Freind, or Son of our Most favored. His Father, Neffamanian IV, was King of all Eygpt, he who caused the sun to rise and the Nile to flow. He had many brothers, although, to be fair, most where half brothers, and all of them bore the title of Prince. There was only one name that he alone bore, signifying his own body and glory for now, but one day, might be written across the stones and walls of the Kingdom. That name, was Hammure.
Like his father, he was a rather hard working man, striving for the greatness that was expected from those in his station. Yes, he possesed a home of his own, as one of his Father's favored sons; A great, multi-walled temple complex dedicated to Horus, as the patron of the kings, but it was not as though he spent his days lounging about, dining on dates and seafood. Such things where luxeries reserved for his sisters and the other female noblity. No, his days where taken up with his tutors and scroll, studing, or with sword and mace with the palace garrison, or in noble regela on a throne of gilded gold, despencing justice for the area as Horus's eaglic vistage gazed down upon him. Yet, it was the life he was born to lead, and who was it to question the wisdom of the gods, who knew more of men then they did of themselves? Besides, from the way things seemed to move into his court, the people obviously needed somebody to handle their problems.
Today was just the day for that, it seemed. He sat in his throne that day, back ramrod straght, shoulders braced, face cool, compent; literally dripping with nobility. His dress was proper for his station; a white, long wrap, clean and functional, strenched down to just below his knees, his upper body covered with leather armor, trimed with gold, and fitting gold bands around his ankles and wrists. His headdress, while he might have gone so far as to look a King, was simple as well; a well-crafted headband of bronze and silver, fronted by a lifelike vulture head, eyes glittering garnet, his hair running only slight past the back, onyx and slick with oil. The only make-up he wore was to darken the area around his eyes; though it was slightly improper, he did not feel that men should worry themselves with such frivilties. One hand grasped solidly at the arm of his throne, the other gripped around the scourging flail that stood as the Kingdom's symbol of authority. He'd been sitting in this postion for hours already, listening to flattering courtiers, arbtrating two disputes over the borders of some particular land grants, and his rear was starting to feel a little raw. Still... we all must do our duty, no? The floor before him stood empty... and he knew what he was to do.
"The next speaker might see me now." His voice, a gift from his father, was naturally booming... yet not in so much a scary way as in a god-like way. It was the sort of voice that never had to shout to anybody... it carried so much weight, one had to activly focust to resist it. For a moment, the throneroom, lined on all sides by noblity and commonfolk alike, seemed a bit on edge, before the Palace Vizer, a man of no small size or appitite, as his girth truely showed, entered, bowing before him.
"My Prince," his voice was honeied, containing a certain hardness that betrayed his form. "Today, we have entering into your possetion four new servents, for the upkeep of your glourious temple. If it would please you, might I have the honor of presenting their unworthy flesh to your divine presence?"
Although normally a bit annoied by extensive speech, the word divine always appeled to him. Perhaps, it was because his greatest hope was to suceed his Father, and that would make him a highly worshipped god... but, perhaps, it was simply a weakness of his. Still unmoving, only his mouth betraying that he was still alive. "So be it." Honestly, he would rather not be bothered by such peons... but, the Vizer would be an important ally if he hoped to manuver himself into the crown. Entertain his petty request, and it will be much better. Two of the guerds, bulky black enuches that had been captured in the southern reaches of the kingdom, heaved open the doors yet again, allowing the four servents, three men and one woman, to enter.
Most of the noblity, turned their eyes away, not wishing to sully themselves with such things as honoring palace servents. He, however, remained focused, his eyes going over them critically... first one, then the next, and the next, and the next. The men where all large, tanned, accustomed to work on the farms and querries, although the second plainly was more of a craftsmen, as the burns on his hands and arms seemed to testify. They would make mainainers, perhaps, or maybe he could find a place for the smith in the palace forge. Ultiamatly, it was his duty to select a place for each of them.
The girl however.... she wasen't exactly the kind of person he was looking for right now. She was small, obviously trained in domesitc practices rather then any trade. He might he given her a postion in the servent's harrem, as wives and husbands where not permitted amongest the palace servents, but he already had that full to the brim with slaves from the recent campaigns in the south. Still... he could not just send her back, who knew what was waiting for her, or how far she had gone? For about a minute, he simply stared, before, again, moving only his lips.
"They please me, Vizer," he acknowledged him, then each of the servents in turn with a slight nod, giving the impression that all would be well. "Take the first and third man to the maintain's querters. They shall be set to work repairing my walls, fountions, and whatever else may need tending to. Find a place for the second in the forges. As for the woman..." he gave himself a single moment to think... there had to be something. Then, his eyes brightened with and idea. "We are in need of another washerwoman for the cloths of the nobility. I have noticed as of late that even my own clothing is starting to come back slower. See to it that she is given a proper postion there."
"So it is done, my Prince," the Vizer gave another bow before hustling the servents out of the room. He watched them until the great doors shut... please for the diversion, but prepared to go back to his jusitice, and get his mind off those commoners.
Like his father, he was a rather hard working man, striving for the greatness that was expected from those in his station. Yes, he possesed a home of his own, as one of his Father's favored sons; A great, multi-walled temple complex dedicated to Horus, as the patron of the kings, but it was not as though he spent his days lounging about, dining on dates and seafood. Such things where luxeries reserved for his sisters and the other female noblity. No, his days where taken up with his tutors and scroll, studing, or with sword and mace with the palace garrison, or in noble regela on a throne of gilded gold, despencing justice for the area as Horus's eaglic vistage gazed down upon him. Yet, it was the life he was born to lead, and who was it to question the wisdom of the gods, who knew more of men then they did of themselves? Besides, from the way things seemed to move into his court, the people obviously needed somebody to handle their problems.
Today was just the day for that, it seemed. He sat in his throne that day, back ramrod straght, shoulders braced, face cool, compent; literally dripping with nobility. His dress was proper for his station; a white, long wrap, clean and functional, strenched down to just below his knees, his upper body covered with leather armor, trimed with gold, and fitting gold bands around his ankles and wrists. His headdress, while he might have gone so far as to look a King, was simple as well; a well-crafted headband of bronze and silver, fronted by a lifelike vulture head, eyes glittering garnet, his hair running only slight past the back, onyx and slick with oil. The only make-up he wore was to darken the area around his eyes; though it was slightly improper, he did not feel that men should worry themselves with such frivilties. One hand grasped solidly at the arm of his throne, the other gripped around the scourging flail that stood as the Kingdom's symbol of authority. He'd been sitting in this postion for hours already, listening to flattering courtiers, arbtrating two disputes over the borders of some particular land grants, and his rear was starting to feel a little raw. Still... we all must do our duty, no? The floor before him stood empty... and he knew what he was to do.
"The next speaker might see me now." His voice, a gift from his father, was naturally booming... yet not in so much a scary way as in a god-like way. It was the sort of voice that never had to shout to anybody... it carried so much weight, one had to activly focust to resist it. For a moment, the throneroom, lined on all sides by noblity and commonfolk alike, seemed a bit on edge, before the Palace Vizer, a man of no small size or appitite, as his girth truely showed, entered, bowing before him.
"My Prince," his voice was honeied, containing a certain hardness that betrayed his form. "Today, we have entering into your possetion four new servents, for the upkeep of your glourious temple. If it would please you, might I have the honor of presenting their unworthy flesh to your divine presence?"
Although normally a bit annoied by extensive speech, the word divine always appeled to him. Perhaps, it was because his greatest hope was to suceed his Father, and that would make him a highly worshipped god... but, perhaps, it was simply a weakness of his. Still unmoving, only his mouth betraying that he was still alive. "So be it." Honestly, he would rather not be bothered by such peons... but, the Vizer would be an important ally if he hoped to manuver himself into the crown. Entertain his petty request, and it will be much better. Two of the guerds, bulky black enuches that had been captured in the southern reaches of the kingdom, heaved open the doors yet again, allowing the four servents, three men and one woman, to enter.
Most of the noblity, turned their eyes away, not wishing to sully themselves with such things as honoring palace servents. He, however, remained focused, his eyes going over them critically... first one, then the next, and the next, and the next. The men where all large, tanned, accustomed to work on the farms and querries, although the second plainly was more of a craftsmen, as the burns on his hands and arms seemed to testify. They would make mainainers, perhaps, or maybe he could find a place for the smith in the palace forge. Ultiamatly, it was his duty to select a place for each of them.
The girl however.... she wasen't exactly the kind of person he was looking for right now. She was small, obviously trained in domesitc practices rather then any trade. He might he given her a postion in the servent's harrem, as wives and husbands where not permitted amongest the palace servents, but he already had that full to the brim with slaves from the recent campaigns in the south. Still... he could not just send her back, who knew what was waiting for her, or how far she had gone? For about a minute, he simply stared, before, again, moving only his lips.
"They please me, Vizer," he acknowledged him, then each of the servents in turn with a slight nod, giving the impression that all would be well. "Take the first and third man to the maintain's querters. They shall be set to work repairing my walls, fountions, and whatever else may need tending to. Find a place for the second in the forges. As for the woman..." he gave himself a single moment to think... there had to be something. Then, his eyes brightened with and idea. "We are in need of another washerwoman for the cloths of the nobility. I have noticed as of late that even my own clothing is starting to come back slower. See to it that she is given a proper postion there."
"So it is done, my Prince," the Vizer gave another bow before hustling the servents out of the room. He watched them until the great doors shut... please for the diversion, but prepared to go back to his jusitice, and get his mind off those commoners.
