3. Self-Recommendation

“You’ve truly suffered, bearing such a curse since childhood,” Merite sighed with genuine tenderness. “In that case, you should go home today and rest well.”

Beyton hesitated briefly, then quietly agreed.

“By the way,” Merite suddenly remembered, “have you given any thought to what I mentioned last time?”

Beyton was silent.

That was the last person you should have asked about it.

Still, it wasn’t difficult for him. After some consideration, he said, “I think the queen has given the matter thorough thought and respects my opinion greatly. But I’m too foolish and fear I might fail and disappoint her trust. I’d like the queen to explain it to me in more detail.”

One of Beyton’s guiding principles was: when in doubt, kick the ball.

As long as he complied with the other’s words and lavished praise and support, it was easy to draw out their true thoughts.

Queen Merite smiled brightly. For some reason, she sensed that today’s Ai was a little different, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Placing you in the temple is for your own good,” she said. “I know you wish to stay by my side, but I hope you will join the priesthood.”

Join the temple?

Beyton lifted his head smoothly, calmly taking in the entire palace layout. When his gaze touched the golden ornaments in the inner chamber, he lowered his lashes slightly, a plan forming in his mind.

“Master Ai is willing to follow the queen’s arrangements,” he whispered quietly where no one could hear, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “To serve the queen is my lifelong pursuit.”

He didn’t understand why Ai had become Queen Merite’s man. Perhaps that was why Ai, born a slave, rose to such power. Or perhaps there was another possibility: he was Ai, but not the powerful minister Ai.

The historical records of ancient Egypt were incomplete, mostly pieced together by later generations from scattered artifacts.

Even the era hailed as the beginning of Egypt’s golden age was described in just a few lines. As for the powerful minister Ai, only two sentences remained—

“The young pharaoh was controlled by Chancellor Ai; when the pharaoh died, Ai ascended the throne.”

Ai ruled for four years before dying of illness.

These few dozen characters, easily read by any visitor, encapsulated his tumultuous life.

Beyond confirming his status as a powerful minister, no one could truly say what kind of man he was.

But regardless of his true identity now, joining the temple was better than staying here.

Beyton made his decision without hesitation.

Merite smiled and nodded. Though she didn’t know what had prompted Ai’s change of heart, she was pleased with the outcome.

“Though you’ll only be a minor priest, the duties of worship cannot be taken lightly,” she advised. “I won’t be able to care for you well in the temple, so you must be more attentive yourself.”

“All right,” Beyton replied, following her words, a hint of regret on his face. “I still wish to remain by your side.”

If you’re going to play a part, you must play it fully.

At this moment, any normal person would offer polite pretense before parting amicably.

But—

Merite said, “In that case, come to bed with me again tomorrow.”

Beyton blinked in surprise.

“Master Ai is quite charming,” Fufu took the feather fan from a maid and knelt before Merite, fanning her with a teasing smile.

Having served Queen Merite for over twenty years, Fufu spoke with a familiarity others lacked.

Merite chuckled softly. “Beauties always deserve a few extra privileges. And looking ahead is pleasing to the eye, isn’t it? When I say come to bed, it depends on his mood—young men just can’t hide their feelings.”

Whenever she smiled, fine wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes. Only then did one realize she was already past fifty.

Fufu smiled and agreed.

Anyone with even slight knowledge of Queen Merite knew she had unusual patience for beauty—whether people or things. Even death row prisoners who caught her eye could be pardoned.

The two spoke casually, unconcerned that the subject stood nearby.

Beyton smiled, his expression a mixture of sincerity, surprise, and quiet joy.

After all, beyond smiling, he had little else to do.

---

Better to do nothing than err by doing too much.

As they spoke, two female officers silently approached, heads lowered, standing at the side.

Merite glanced at one and gestured; Fufu fell silent. The officer in front stepped forward and whispered, “Queen Merite, the High Priest sent me to inquire about His Majesty’s prophet.”

His Majesty had reigned for over a year but had yet to appoint a prophet. Governance remained in the hands of his grandmother, Queen Merite.

Merite’s smile faded slightly. “The High Priest seems more concerned with His Majesty’s affairs than I am.”

“His Majesty is still young, and children his age love to play,” Fufu waved her feather fan lightly. “I think it’s unwise to appoint a prophet too early.”

Merite chided her gently. “His Majesty is no ordinary child. How can he neglect his studies for play?”

“Your Majesty is right,” Fufu lowered her head in acquiescence. “That was my oversight.”

The officer remained silent, standing straight with hands folded.

Like the others, Beyton bowed his head but listened attentively.

Merite looked toward the officer. “Then have him select some from the temple.”

Throughout history, the education of pharaohs was entrusted to the temple, which selected learned priests as prophets to teach reading, writing, theology, astronomy, and law.

“The High Priest Nophis has prepared a list,” the officer said, and the attendant behind her presented a scroll of papyrus.

No servant moved to take it, and the attendant hesitated. The officer humbly took the scroll and knelt on one knee to unroll it for the reclining Queen Merite to view.

Beyton’s position allowed him to see the papyrus clearly. It bore typical ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs—complex and elaborate compared to modern script.

Surprisingly, he could understand them.

The scroll listed five names: three on the left, two on the right, with a clear space between, like two inviolable fortresses.

“Nophis’s impatience never changes,” Merite chuckled lightly, her slender fingers tracing the scroll. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and smiled. “Educating His Majesty is no small matter. Perhaps more prophets would be better; it would put my mind at ease.”

“The temple also believes five prophets are more comprehensive than four. Whom does the queen suggest?” The officer’s question set an upper limit on the number Merite might add.

The attendant immediately handed over pen and writing board, clearly prepared.

Merite gave the officer a half-smile but said no more, resting her head in thought.

Beyton’s gaze flickered from her distracted eyes. Lowering his own, his fingers moved subtly, slipping a cloth band under the fruit platter to hold it down.

The entire process was silent, unnoticed by anyone.

The palace was quiet, no one spoke. Merite remained silent, and the officer dared not press further, maintaining her posture.

The maid massaging the queen’s legs finished one side and bent to switch sides when the belt behind her felt a slight, brief tug, as if caught on something.

Before she could react, a loud crash echoed.

The maid paled, quickly turning to kneel without even looking at what fell. Everyone else in the palace followed suit.

Merite lifted her eyelids slightly. “It’s just a fruit platter. Why such a commotion?”

The maid’s tension eased slightly and she dared to peek.

The fruit platter had overturned, the metallic clang harsh on the floor. Peeled grapes spilled everywhere.

Without a word, the maids began tidying up with utmost care and silence.

At that moment, Beyton, awkward in his position, sat kneeling on a round cushion, unsure what to do.

Merite’s gaze lingered on him, her narrow catlike eyes raising.

Fufu, having served Merite for decades and always perceptive, understood the queen’s thoughts. Considering Ai’s current status, she deftly changed the subject: “Your Majesty, what do you think of Master Ai?”

Beyton was startled, lifting his head, but when he met Merite’s and the officer’s eyes, he immediately lowered it again in silence.

“Ai?” Merite feigned surprise, raising an eyebrow. “Though he’s about to take up a post in the temple, he is still young. I fear he may not be capable of assisting His Majesty adequately.”

The officer studied this seemingly timid and shy man, quickly reviewing her mental notes. Before coming, she had carefully memorized everyone around Merite.

She recalled: a man kept in the royal harem by Merite, strikingly beautiful with exotic features.

Rumored to be born a slave, likely with limited knowledge.

Someone like him wouldn’t ordinarily even be fit to sweep the temple steps. But now...

“Very well,” the officer wrote “Ai” on the papyrus with practiced ease. “His Majesty is young; having a prophet close in age would foster better relations and make learning more enjoyable.”

“If the officer Dohe says so, then Ai it is,” Merite seemed convinced, her tone tinged with resignation. “He is young and can’t compare to those experienced elders. I hope the officer will guide him well.”

“Of course,” Dohe rolled the papyrus and handed it to the attendant behind her.

Her gaze glanced once more at the man named Ai before withdrawing without emotion.

Merite said no more and gestured to the maids to escort the officers out.

“Your Majesty, I...” Beyton stepped forward hesitantly.

“Ai, now that you are a prophet,” Merite interrupted with a faint smile, “you can no longer serve in my palace.”

Beyton immediately declared his loyalty. “Even in the temple, I will serve the queen as I would Bastet.”

Merite’s smile deepened. “His Majesty is young. You must balance study and rest well, without overburdening him.”

After a pause, she added, “You need not worry. His other prophets are all capable and respected ministers.”

Beyton nodded uneasily. “If any problems arise, I will trouble the queen for guidance.”

“Go prepare yourself.”

Though unsure what to prepare, Beyton obediently agreed.

Merite waved contentedly as Anaka stepped forward to guide him out. Their figures disappeared at the palace gates, footsteps fading into the distance.

“High Priest Nophis was unusually agreeable this time?” Fufu spoke again after they left.

Merite smiled ambiguously. “His goal is to arrange prophets for His Majesty. He knows better than I do and doesn’t hesitate to yield when necessary.”

Without her saying a word, he had already appointed three people from her side.

Even if she picked a fool, Nophis would praise him as a hidden genius, wise beyond appearance.

“But is Master Ai truly suitable?” Fufu shuddered, recalling Ai’s rebellious behavior earlier in the side chamber.

Merite’s brows relaxed as she reclined again. “Some cunning and scheming make such a person easier to control.”

Fufu was stunned, then realized, “Your Majesty means that accident earlier was staged by him!”

Indeed, the maid was gentle and cautious, moving lightly—how could she have toppled the fruit platter? Fufu had found it strange herself.

“That’s a bit clever,” Fufu agreed, “just not straightforward.”

But having served Merite so long, she disapproved of those who climbed by stepping on others.

Merite glanced at her coldly, withdrew her gaze, closed her eyes, and lost interest in the conversation.

Fufu studied her expression and wondered if she had misjudged.

The maid who massaged the queen’s legs returned to her place after tidying up, apparently shaken. As she knelt, she pressed down her skirt, the flowing ribbons looping into her belt.

Fufu noticed her and then the nearby table, suddenly enlightened.

The platter fell, but the table made no sound.

It was a blatant signal to others: the table was not bumped by the maid. What appeared to be a sly move to climb over others was actually a brazen self-introduction.

Merite closed her eyes as a maid gently massaged her temples with skilled fingers, carving deep lines in the skin. After a moment, she brushed the hands away.

“No more massage,” her voice carried a trace of displeasure.

Fufu saw her smooth the corners of her eyes, the words poised on her lips swallowed silently.