Chapter 14: The Boomerang

“Your Majesty, please proceed to the court assembly first,” Boi closed the book in front of him and stood up. “I will take my leave now.”

“Aren’t you coming along?” Rahris raised an eyebrow.

Though still a mere boy, he liked to mimic the expressions of adults. It didn’t make him seem serious, but rather somewhat amusing. Boi lowered his eyes, suppressing a smile at the corner of his lips. “No, I can’t. My status isn’t appropriate.”

Though he was now the king’s seer, to the courtiers at the assembly, he was just a slave. At this critical moment, who knew if the courtiers would unanimously direct their barbs at him.

Rahris said no more. With Tod’s assistance, he changed into formal attire and headed to the assembly.

The assembly was held in the main hall of the Temple of the Gods, a separate palace with a broad, long staircase at the entrance—nine steps in total. In Egypt, the number nine symbolized war and power; the pharaoh was called “Lord of the Nine Bows,” signifying his conquest over nine enemies.

Ascending the steps led to the Sun Temple, representing the highest authority over all Egypt.

This was Rahris’s second time climbing these stairs.

The first was on the day he became pharaoh, dressed in heavy ceremonial robes, stepping up to receive the adoration of the people.

But in truth, after the worship ceremony concluded, he was sent back to the Temple of the Gods and missed the subsequent banquet and the Sed Festival.

He sat inside the temple, listening to the musicians all day while festivities continued.

This time was no different. Rahris knew clearly that one day, when he could ascend these stairs by his own will rather than being summoned like a slave, then this staircase and the Sun Temple at its summit would truly belong to him.

At the top, Tod was already panting, fanning himself feverishly.

Rahris entered the Sun Temple and immediately felt the coolness inside. The courtiers turned in unison at the sound.

“Your Majesty.” Taiy, seated on the left, led a group of priests who stood and bowed deeply to Rahris, showing utmost respect.

Those on the right remained seated, as if unaware that one must pay respects upon seeing the pharaoh.

Rahris raised his eyes to the front of the hall. Beside the golden throne was another seat adorned with gemstones.

A woman reclined against the armrest, her eyeliner swept up in a cat-eye shape, makeup exquisite, expression languid. She gazed down from her lofty seat at those below, her vivid red lips curling into a faint smile. “Your Majesty.”

Had she intended to stand, it might have shown some regard.

“Your Majesty, please take your seat,” Nophis, the High Priest seated at the head of the left side, rose and bowed.

Rahris nodded slightly, stopping him from kneeling. “High Priest, you are advanced in years; no need for such ceremony.”

Nophis gratefully exchanged his bow for a shoulder-touch salute.

“This kind of courtesy makes it easy for the thoughtless to underestimate His Majesty, abusing his youth by relying on age,” Meret suddenly interjected, interrupting the royal harmony.

Rahris looked at her calmly. Nophis smiled and said, “The Queen’s words are well spoken.”

He then laid his golden scepter across his chest and slowly knelt, performing a full formal bow.

Meret watched silently, waiting until he shakily rose before tilting her head slightly and saying to Rahris, “Why do you still stand? Come, sit.”

Rahris said nothing and took the golden throne.

A strong scent of ointment wafted up—lavender mixed with rosemary—bold and commanding, much like its owner.

Rahris subtly shifted to sit a little aside.

“Continue,” Meret waved her hand, and the assembly immediately stirred, though no one spoke.

After a while, the priests by the temple could no longer contain themselves. Akhris stood, first offering a shoulder-touch salute to Rahris before speaking:

“Your Majesty, High Priest Nophis observed the stars; Orion in the east moves with the changing seasons. Sirius rises first before dawn, proving the strength of the Sun God Ra is abundant.”

He paused, then knelt on one knee, raising both hands high.

“Your Majesty, the stars have spoken. The Sun God Ra blesses you; his sacred light will accompany your steps. This is glory and prosperity. I earnestly request Your Majesty’s permission to embark on the journey, to save our suffering people in the name of Amun, and to ensure Egypt’s eternal flourishing.”

Behind him, the priests knelt and intoned in unison: “We beseech Your Majesty to consent to the journey and bless the people of Egypt.”

The voices of over twenty priests echoed in the hall, the white canopy above gently swaying.

Nophis did not join in; he held the golden scepter firmly, his aged eyes silently watching the two on the throne.

“I find this inappropriate,” a man standing at the forefront of the right side rose and saluted Meret. “Your Majesty is too young. Traveling outside the palace is unsafe. If you were to be injured or die, would the temple bear responsibility?”

His tiger-like eyes glared as he spoke sternly: “Can you bear that burden?”

Though over twenty priests spoke, this man alone could oppose them with formidable presence.

“General Miviel,” Taiy stood, frowning at the man’s rugged face, “we have already observed the stars. This journey is auspicious. I hope the general will not hinder it.”

Miviel scoffed, “I trust the great Amun, but not this so-called star prophecy. I only ask, if His Majesty is harmed or dies, who will take responsibility?”

“How can General Miviel speak so?” Taiy’s face darkened. To mention injury or death in front of His Majesty was disrespectful. “His Majesty is under Amun’s protection; nothing untoward will happen.”

Miviel scratched his ear, clearly impatient.

“I’m just a rough soldier who knows how to wield sword and club. I still say it’s unwise. I hope Queen Meret… and His Majesty will reconsider,” he said.

“I too feel it is rash,” another man behind him stood.

“No previous pharaoh has toured before the completion of the ceremonies,” this man, taller and even larger than Miviel, like a walking mountain, said. “In my opinion, better to wait until His Majesty’s rites are complete.”

“Yes, yes, we think the same,” others chimed in.

The temple priests’ faces darkened; the completion of rites marked coming of age at fourteen, meaning they would have to wait another four years.

Rahris sat atop, silently watching the dispute below.

Though the argument concerned him, he had no authority to decide.

“Outside, countless citizens await,” Taiy raised his hand and raised his voice, “Shall we ignore the pleas of the people, their suffering, and Amun’s mercy?”

His words grew weightier with each sentence, striking like thunder.

Mentioning Amun even silenced the defiant Miviel somewhat.

Normally, the temple held little sway at court, more like ornamental vases. Occasionally, when Queen Meret was in a good mood, she might gift a flower to adorn the temple, giving it a semblance of importance. But today was different.

Miviel growled, “They’re just a bunch of commoners, daring to crowd the palace. Queen, why not send me to deal with them? I guarantee it’ll be cleaned up.”

His words grew more arrogant. Not just the temple, even Meret’s face darkened sharply.

“Miviel.”

Miviel froze, realizing he’d spoken out of turn, and fell silent.

“If the temple has confidence in its divination and can guarantee Your Majesty’s safety, what more can I say? Then let His Majesty tour,” Meret smiled, her fingernails stained the red of pomegranate blossoms, resting near her cheek, exuding a subtle allure.

Meret relented, but the temple priests’ expressions were far from pleased.

Though they leveraged the commoners’ pressure to force concessions, Meret’s words clearly placed responsibility for the pharaoh’s safety on them—a blatant threat.

If anything happened to the pharaoh, it would spell disaster for the temple.

The death of a pharaoh was like the death of a god; the people’s faith in the temple would vanish, and millennia of legacy would crumble.

“Queen,” Nophis, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke, “Our intention was that His Majesty preside over the tour’s opening ceremony. Queen, perhaps there is a misunderstanding?”

Taiy and the others were startled, suddenly realizing.

Indeed, they spoke of supporting the opening ceremony, but the queen’s faction had turned it into the pharaoh personally participating in the tour.

Presiding over the opening ceremony was called “setting forth,” involving a send-off feast for the procession. During it, the pharaoh personally bestowed upon the chief priest the title of high priest and the Wadjet armband.

The golden cobra armband symbolized royal power and protection, unique to the pharaoh. When granted to a subordinate, it meant “Amun’s left hand,” the pharaoh’s representative.

But the tour itself was a different matter. It was not a simple walk with the deity’s statue, but a journey down the Nile, passing through Heracleopolis, Aswan, Luxor, Piramesis, and more than a dozen cities, ending at Memphis.

Completing the tour from Upper to Lower Egypt symbolized the pharaoh’s benevolence, equality of all, and Egypt’s unity and prosperity.

Then the return trip from Memphis—fraught with challenges.

Feigning surprise, Meret raised an eyebrow. “I thought your insistence meant the pharaoh would personally take part in the tour. How else could you honor Amun’s trust and the gratitude of the people outside?”

She paused. “So it’s only presiding over the ceremony.”

Her tone was filled with regret, like a slap across the temple’s face.

You people speak as if pleading for the people’s welfare and justice, yet it’s just for the pharaoh to put on a show.

Her words left the temple priests speechless.

After a moment, Taiy stood, his expression grim. “The pharaoh is the god who governs Egypt. How can he leave Thebes?”

“Now the people of Egypt suffer greatly; they need the god’s blessing. If the pharaoh appears in person, surely Upper and Lower Egypt will unite their hearts and forever worship the great Amun.”

A minister from the right rose, ignoring the temple’s mood, blocking any retreat by echoing Taiy’s words.

A clever use of leverage.

The temple priests exchanged glances, none daring to speak.

Even Taiy, the high priest, had been outmaneuvered; they dared not worsen the situation.

“Why so silent?” Meret smiled lightly, the wrinkles at her eyes folding like an old, well-used fan, lacking youthful freshness but filled with noble dignity and silent authority.

Taiy looked at High Priest Nophis, uncertain.

Nophis slowly closed his eyes, fingers idly stroking the scepter.

Knowing this meant giving up the chance, and fearing such an opportunity might not come again, Taiy regretted but steadied himself. “We must still consider Thebes’s stability…”

“I want to go,” a sudden voice interrupted.

Everyone in the hall turned to the speaker—the pharaoh himself, sitting atop the golden throne but never truly acknowledged by them.

Rahris scanned the crowd, reaffirming his words: “I want to tour.”

He paused. “Amun has entrusted me with this great responsibility. It is the greatest recognition of my life; I should undertake this journey.”

The temple priests showed surprise, thinking the young pharaoh perhaps did not understand the tour, hence his boldness.

Those on the right were equally startled, not expecting such a raw youth to speak out so boldly.

Even Nophis, usually indifferent, raised an eyelid.

Everyone bore complex thoughts but revealed none.

Meret’s gaze swept over the boy’s undeveloped face, now faintly showing the strong, sculpted features of the Amun family. A trace of sharpness flickered in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Rahris lowered his eyes, tone firm. “I earnestly request my grandmother to preside over the opening ceremony.”

“Rahris—” Meret’s expression flickered, addressing him without honorifics before the assembly.

Between them was an invisible taut string, a silent confrontation that made the courtiers below nervously sweat.

This young pharaoh was courting death.

Meret, usually composed, was now unsettled—surely because this boy had defied her wishes.

The courtiers muttered quietly but dared not interrupt at such a critical moment.

The veins on Meret’s hand gripping the armrest bulged. After a moment, she released her grip and smiled faintly. “Since Your Majesty insists, what can your grandmother say?”

She looked at the others in the hall and slowly said, “I entrust the preparation for the tour to Priest Taiy. This concerns the pharaoh and must not be taken lightly.”

Taiy did not expect their goal to be achieved this way.

Before, they had considered more than ten ways Meret might refuse or obstruct, and had spent nights devising countermeasures.

Though delighted, he felt uneasy.

When things deviate from the norm, there is always a hidden threat. What was Meret scheming?

The other temple priests showed joy. Nophis slowly stood and bowed to the head of the hall: “Thanks to the pharaoh and queen’s consent. May the light of Ra shine forever, and may Egypt prosper eternally.”

All priests rose in unison, repeating the high priest’s words: “May the light of Ra shine forever, and may Egypt prosper eternally.”

“Now, let us arrange the accompanying ministers,” Meret said with a smile.

With their goal achieved, the temple priests relaxed.

Meret glanced over the ministers around the prince and leisurely said, “The pharaoh needs protection; let General Miviel be assigned.”

The group stiffened.

Miviel was Meret’s confidant and had always been rude and unruly towards His Majesty.

Having him nearby would likely mean many grievances for the pharaoh.

“I find this inappropriate,” Taiy rose, furrowing his brows. “General Miviel is undoubtedly skilled, but I believe his temperament is too wild. The tour is a serious matter that allows no negligence.”

Meret propped her head and listened, then asked, “Who does Priest Taiy think is more suitable?”

Taiy pursed his lips tighter, frowning further.

Meret’s power stemmed from her support by General Sebek, whose military influence was formidable. All capable generals in court were trained under him.

“I think General Miviel is suitable,” Nophis said slowly.

Taiy, though confused, did not argue further seeing the high priest’s stance.

Without temple opposition, the process proceeded smoothly. The accompanying general was immediately confirmed as Miviel.

Miviel sneered, muttering reluctantly, “A grown man still needs to babysit a child. It’s embarrassing to say out loud.”

His voice was not loud but clear enough for those in the front rows to hear.

Some near him stifled laughter but stopped when Miviel shot them a glare.

“Priest, does His Majesty have any thoughts?” Meret asked Rahris.

She usually ruled autocratically, so suddenly asking Rahris’s opinion was strange and unusual.

Rahris seemed unaware of her oddity, thinking a moment before replying, “I intended to bring my seer along, but Priest Damanhur must remain in Thebes. Priest Taiy is elderly and may not endure the long journey. Perhaps we should bring Priests Hemn and Ai.”

The assembly’s expressions changed.

Ai? Wasn’t that the slave who had come from Queen Meret’s palace?

The pharaoh actually volunteered to bring one of the queen’s people...

“Ai is quite young,” Meret paused, her hooked eyebrows raised with interest.

Rahris smiled. “Ai is about my age; it will be good to have someone to talk to on the road. If the queen thinks it inappropriate, another of similar age can be chosen.”

Meret hummed and finally patted his shoulder in resignation. “Very well, so be it.”

“Thank you, grandmother, for your consent,” Rahris said as he rose and bowed, deftly avoiding her hand.

Meret naturally withdrew her hand, indifferent to his slight evasiveness. “There is much to prepare for the tour. Your Majesty should return to prepare.”

Her tone was casual, as if dismissing a disinterested puppy.

“Very well,” Rahris nodded and left the Sun Temple.

Before entering, he had known well that today he was merely a guest in this palace, not meant to stay long.

Tod saw him emerge and hurried over, wiping sweat from his face.

“Your Majesty,” he glanced back at the palace’s closed doors, “Did the queen give you trouble?”

Rahris lowered his eyes, a slight curve forming on his lips. “She agreed and assigned General Miviel to accompany me.”

“Miviel?” Tod’s face fell. “That’s like having a bully at your side. Anyone else?”

“Ai.” Rahris’s smile grew more evident.

“Lord Ai??” Tod was puzzled. “Why bring Lord Ai? Was that the queen’s arrangement?”

“No, I suggested it,” Rahris smiled faintly. “Because he didn’t want to go.”

This was his way of repaying Ai for the trouble he had caused him.

“Why bring him if he doesn’t want to go?” Tod couldn’t comprehend his king’s logic. “Wouldn’t it be better to leave him in Thebes as a safeguard?”

Rahris glanced at him but said nothing.

If left behind, he believed that in five years Thebes might see another Meret arise—and that was something he wished to avoid.

At the Menou Palace, Boi was napping but was awakened by noises outside.

“What is it?” he asked the guard at the door, Bart.

Without prompting, Bart craned his neck to look.

After a moment, he turned and said, “Lord Ai, the messenger says the pharaoh has arranged for you to accompany the tour. The journey begins soon; you must prepare quickly.”

Boi, still groggy, was instantly alert.

“The pharaoh is touring?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

“The temple wants His Majesty to tour, and he agreed,” Bart thought for a moment, considering Ai’s status might not be clear, so he explained, “The tour means carrying the deity’s statue from Thebes to Memphis and then returning.”

“How long will that take?” Boi had a bad feeling. Given transportation at this time...

Bart scratched his head uncertainly. “At least three to five years.”

He chuckled, “The last time the pharaoh toured personally was before I was born, so I don’t know much.”

Boi’s eyes went dark. “And then His Majesty appointed me?”

“Yes,” Bart affirmed confidently.

Boi “...” simply laughed. Very well, very well.