7 Skillfully Navigating Every Opportunity

Queen Meret and the temple did not respond immediately, but Bey was not worried. Given the tense, hostile relationship between the temple and Queen Meret, it was impossible for them to communicate openly.

As for whether these two powers would reject him, Bey doubted they would.

In their eyes, he was merely a lowly pawn. Queen Meret was strong and autocratic, unafraid of the temple, and even found her opponents’ hesitations tedious.

Since offering himself as a prophet had already given them the impression of ambition, it was only natural that he now urgently sought to prove his worth.

To this woman, his proposal was likely to be as entertaining as watching a trivial play—a small ant providing some after-dinner amusement. Perhaps she even looked forward to more interesting performances from him.

As for the temple—

Bey had no doubt that Meret’s faction had already aligned with the temple before him. As he had said, sixty years was an age few Egyptians reached; no one could be certain when she might pass away.

It was this uncertainty that made every day agonizing for those below her. Meret might die peacefully in her sleep, but her followers were in their prime, and the great families had to think of their descendants.

To the temple, someone like him was insignificant, but his allegiance was a bargaining chip to sway other factions—a sign of Meret’s crumbling power.

The more such chips they gathered, the stronger their force to dismantle Meret’s influence.

A day later, Bey first received a message from Meret, agreeing and encouraging him to do well, promising he would be rewarded.

The temple, naturally more cautious, took two days to reply. During that time, they likely investigated his identity and background.

One side was wealthy and powerful; the other, from a grand family—both had already advanced payment.

Before Barbat’s eyes, Bey opened the precious box sent by Meret. Golden beans filled the small, palm-sized container to the brim.

Bey remained composed, his lowered eyes sparkling with amusement. Indeed, Meret had high expectations for his debut. His tone was proud, as if he had received a great honor: “This is a reward from Queen Meret, to manage the palace servants.”

Barbat exchanged a glance with his companion—both were shocked.

Did Queen Meret truly value this slave so much?

A box of golden beans was trivial to nobles, but a slave could not earn so much in a lifetime—no, in ten lifetimes.

“These are for you,” Bey said, handing over a small handful, “how you handle them is your business. I hope we can cooperate well in the future.”

Bart looked at his brother anxiously, unsure whether to take it. Bar considered for a moment, then took it with both hands, placing his left hand over his chest in salute: “Thank you, Lord Ai.”

Bey smiled softly: “We’re all family; no need to be so formal.”

Bar accepted it not for personal keeping. Once outside, he personally delivered the golden beans to the temple.

All gold in Egypt was mined by slaves. To prevent theft, nobles stamped their marks on the gold; if the gold changed hands, it was melted and re-stamped.

The temple verified the mark immediately—it was indeed Queen Meret’s.

“It seems Meret likes this slave more than we thought. She really has no resistance to a pretty face. Maybe he can get some information after all,” Tai mused. “What do you think, High Priest?”

Meret’s fondness for beauty was no secret. Every year she ostentatiously recruited handsome young men into her harem.

The temple had also tried this approach to approach Meret, but she was fickle and quickly bored, yielding no useful intelligence.

“It would be good if he is useful, but it doesn’t matter if not,” said the temple’s High Priest Nofis thoughtfully, holding a tiny golden bean. The gold reflected faintly on his graying beard. “Let’s observe him a bit longer.”

“With this slave’s arrogance, he’s bound to offend people. Meret appointing him as prophet must have angered His Majesty,” Tai said helplessly. “She’s complained to me several times.”

Nofis sighed lightly: “His Majesty’s naïveté is a blessing for us—saves much effort.”

After a moment, he handed back the golden beans to Bar: “Since they’re for you, keep them.”

Bar accepted without hesitation, pocketing them and bowing.

Elsewhere—

As Bart and Bar left, Thanaro entered the study.

“What did they want with you?” Thanaro asked bluntly. “I saw them leaving hurriedly with something.”

Bey waved with a beaming smile. Thanaro approached suspiciously.

“Look, I didn’t expect the temple to value me so highly,” Bey boasted, opening the temple’s reward that Bar had brought.

Inside the round box was a set of exquisite jewelry: a gold-based necklace inlaid with red and blue gems, armlets carved with lifelike eagles, and earrings made of colorful feathers and jewels.

The most valuable part of the necklace was not just the gems but the exquisite craftsmanship—a clearly precious set.

“The temple sent this?” Thanaro was shocked.

Bey nodded, half-true, half-false: “It seems the temple truly bears a grudge against the queen, trying hard to win over even someone as insignificant as me.”

After admiring it for a while, he closed the box and slid it forward. “Could you please deliver this set to the queen?”

“You’re not keeping it yourself?” Thanaro thought Bey would keep it—after all, the queen hadn’t required the temple’s gifts to be handed over, and few could resist such fine jewelry and its implied value.

If it were him, he certainly would have kept it.

“What do you take me for!” Bey replied solemnly, pledging loyalty. “My devotion to the queen cannot be measured by a mere set of jewelry.”

Thanaro felt a sting in his eyes. If he were a modern man, he would call it the righteous light.

When those carrying the jewelry left, Bey smirked lightly.

Of course he wanted the set, but if he accepted it directly, Meret might suspect him. It was better to have it come as a gift from her.

Before leaving, Bey called out to Thanaro: “Bart Bar is the personal attendant of High Priest Nofis. Keep an eye on him, see if you can glean anything about the temple.”

Thanaro frowned, surprised Bart Bar held such a position.

“Understood, Lord Ai,” he bowed. “They’re not wary of me; I’ll make good use of this opportunity.”

That evening, as expected, Thanaro returned with the jewelry box.

“The queen said you did well and gave you this set,” he said, recalling the queen’s expression—half admiration, half satisfaction—along with her attendant Fufu’s praise that she hadn’t misjudged this boy, who could resist temptation.

Bey saluted towards Bastet’s palace, washed his hands, then reverently placed the jewelry in his cabinet on a white cloth.

That dazzling feeling returned, and Thanaro was once again stunned.

Bey thought to himself: this was his second property in ancient Egypt, his capital.

—

The next day, Bey was to teach the young pharaoh again.

Before leaving, he deliberately wore the temple’s jewelry. The exquisite adornments complemented his pale skin, adding a touch of nobility.

Wearing this openly, Barbat saw it as Bey signaling the temple’s support. Thanaro saw it as Bey expressing loyalty to Queen Meret, proving his worth.

After allying with the temple, Bey discovered another benefit.

No more walking to work. As soon as he stepped out, there was a sedan chair waiting—slightly different from traditional Chinese litters, with a beautifully carved footrest at the front.

Still human-powered travel.

The temple provided four strong, muscular, dark-skinned carriers who looked reliable.

Bey sat inside, feeling the cramped space and hard bench, but it was better than walking an hour to work.

He couldn’t help but admire the excellent employee benefits of this nationwide enterprise.

Thus, swaying with every step, he arrived at the gods’ temple where the pharaoh resided just before class.

Upon disembarking, the carriers handed Bey a wooden box from their belongings.

Inside were several books—teaching aids on the history of Egyptian writing and scripts. Quite the study materials.

The pharaoh’s palace was very quiet; only one servant waited silently in the corner.

Sunlight streamed unobstructed through large stained glass windows, making the hanging linen curtains sway gently.

Raheris watched Bey enter with an expressionless face, placing his left hand over his chest in salute.

“Slaves have no manners. You should perform the kneeling bow between sovereign and subject,” Raheris said from the steps, looking down.

Bey raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t know the rules. I saw General Mivil do it this way, so I copied him.”

Raheris stiffened.

Mivil’s way of saluting was because he despised him, the pharaoh, and refused to acknowledge royal authority—yet Raheris couldn’t expose it for fear of seeming weak.

“Let’s start the lesson.” Bey approached, spreading the books on the table and sitting at his seat.

Raheris sneered, “Didn’t you say I’m not worthy to be your student?”

Bey smiled lightly, “Don’t misunderstand. I am simply paid by the sovereign and bear their worries.”

The temple now wished to leverage the pharaoh’s rise; Bey had to feign cooperation. After all, he was just a slave. The temple wasn’t absorbing him to teach the pharaoh properly.

After a pause, he added, “There’s a word in my homeland that better describes our relationship.”

Raheris felt he shouldn’t respond but, noticing Bey’s skin color was clearly different from Egyptians, he couldn’t resist curiosity: “What is it?”

Bey’s lips curved slightly: “Teaching support—meaning aiding education in underdeveloped areas.”

Raheris, feeling inferior, muttered, “...”

Meret must have a special department dedicated to cultivating such irritating talents.

Bey saw the young pharaoh’s ears flush with anger, expecting him to erupt in fury, but instead Raheris suddenly calmed and asked, “Does everyone in your homeland have access to education?”

Bey glanced at him in surprise; he hadn’t expected Raheris to seize on this detail.

“More or less,” he said. “We have universal education; everyone has the right to learn.”

Raheris pondered: “If everyone is educated, doesn’t that mean the ruler is powerless?”

In Egypt, only a few—nobles, priests, officials—had access to education.

Bey looked down on him, tapping his fingers twice on the table.

It was a little habit of his, signaling thought.

“Why do you think that way?” he asked.

Raheris hesitated before answering, “The smart are like rivers and waves, the gifted like clouds. Education gives them cognition and judgment. Look at this palace—all follow Meret, not me.”

Only the blind masses firmly believed Raheris was the legitimate heir who conversed with the gods—the sole pharaoh of Egypt.

Bey watched the still-immature pharaoh fall into thought.

As far as he knew, the ten-year-old had never been taught to read. This was clear from the scribbles he produced last lesson.

A child uneducated and never meeting the previous pharaoh had some insight into the art of keeping people ignorant.

Indeed, the art of keeping people ignorant.

This was a principle from the Warring States period, widely accepted as a method of governance—to control the people.

The Taoists said: “The ancient masters who were good at the Way did not enlighten the people but made them dull. The difficulty of governing the people comes from their intelligence.”

The Confucians also said: “The people may be made to follow but not to understand.”

Famous reformer Shang Yang said: “If the people are strong, the country is weak; if the people are weak, the country is strong. A country with the Way strives to weaken its people.”

Rulers maintain their luxurious lives and power by exploiting the masses.

Keeping the populace ignorant and submissive—working like beasts—is every ruler’s dream.

Therefore, from slave societies to feudal ones, education has always been scarce, controlled by the elite.

Egypt today was no different. They claimed education was a divine choice, but it was merely a continuation of the art of keeping people ignorant.

“You’re a bit smarter than I thought,” Bey praised generously. “You’ve risen above mummy-level.”

Raheris was startled. Though he didn’t know what a mummy was, it couldn’t be good. Still, it was the first time this man had complimented him, and strangely, he felt a little excited.

He quickly suppressed his dangerous thoughts. As a pharaoh, why would he need a slave’s praise and approval?

Though he thought so, a faint smile still curled his lips.

Sunlight poured through the stained glass, illuminating the boy’s deep brows and golden eyes sparkling like jewels. Bey thought: he really is like a cat—easy to coax, just a little praise and his tail’s up.

“Today’s lesson,” Bey flipped two pages in the teaching aid, “copy the characters here.”

Raheris pursed his lips reluctantly. “Priest Tai has already taught me these characters.”

He didn’t want to waste time learning useless knowledge from a slave.

Bey looked at him with a half-smile and pointed casually on the page.

“What is this character?”

Raheris didn’t know what Bey intended but answered, “Temple.”

“Wrong,” Bey said, “It means deity.”

Raheris frowned. “Impossible. Tai taught me it means temple.”

Bey chuckled lightly. “How do you know his teaching is right and mine wrong?”

Raheris said nothing, only furrowed his brows more deeply.

Bey tapped the table again, casually saying, “You’re just biased, thinking I’m an illiterate slave with a narrow and coarse mind. I’ve arranged your lessons; whether you do them is up to you.”

With that, he stood and walked away leisurely, skipping class with justification, leaving the young pharaoh scowling.

“Your Majesty,” Todd, the silent attendant, stepped forward. “This slave is truly arrogant, ignorant yet boldly outspoken. Perhaps we should find a reason to send him to the Medjay. That’s where slaves belong.”

Raheris’s anger faded. He glanced at Todd inscrutably: “Don’t forget your place.”

Todd was startled, kneeling and begging forgiveness: “I spoke presumptuously, please punish me, Your Majesty.”

Raheris’s golden eyes darkened as he watched Bey leave. After a moment, he quietly said, “Arrange to investigate this Lord Ai’s past.”

The attendant agreed but hesitated before asking, “How should I report today’s events to the High Priest?”

Raheris lowered his gaze, his tone faint: “Better borrow a brain from a mummy.”

Todd carefully inquired, “Your Majesty, who is the mummy?”

Raheris looked down at him, his expression unreadable.

Todd quickly bowed: “I acknowledge my mistake.”

Raheris was silent. Just as Todd feared punishment, the pharaoh suddenly picked up the book Bey left and asked, “What character is this?”

Todd glanced and cautiously replied, “Temple.”

Raheris: “...”

That damned slave was indeed mocking him.