The Quraysh problem
"Nazhotep, I have news for you. We looked into what you said, and it's true that the Quraysh tribe has been robbing caravans and burning towns down. The merchant guild said they are willing to finance a campaign against the Al-Manat worshippers. It will be good training for our soldiers. Nothing beats a real war when it comes to whipping men into shape."
Commander Kahir smiled, his pearly white teeth shining in the sunlight.
I'm shocked. I was half expecting the greedy merchants to hold onto their money, stating that they already pay taxes and that the taxes they already paid burden the state with the responsibility of security. It makes perfect sense when you think about it.
"Commander Kahir, when are we moving out?"
He scratched his chin.
"It will take a while. These things are not easy to get organized."
I sighed in disappointment.
"Sir, please enlighten me about something. What you are saying is that the army has notified the merchant guild and any spies that might be within. Now we will wait a long time for the sortie and let that spy send messages to the Quraysh tribe. Sir, doesn't it look like by the time we arrive at the location, the entire Quraysh tribe will be scattered throughout the vast desert? We might arrive there just to take a walk under the scorching desert sun or chilly desert moon and return without accomplishing anything substantial."
Commander Kahir's eyes started twitching. It's crazy that he didn't think of that. The Quraysh tribe consists of ignorant savages. Not dumbasses. They could think of planting a spy in certain places. If I were them, I would make sure I had a spy in the merchant guild to learn the caravan schedule, volume, number of bodyguards, etcetera.
"Sir, when you talked with the merchant guild, did you discuss this behind closed doors or did you discuss it out in the open?"
He hung his head in shame. I can infer from that that he had discussed it out in the open. I nodded, understanding. He almost made the worst mistake of his life. We all do things without thinking sometimes. What he did was understandable when you take into account that a campaign is actually a grand project that requires a lot of planning. Some important details might fall through the crack and cause the whole thing to fail.
"Nazhotep, what are we going to do? What if you're right?"
I took a deep breath.
"I'm not a tactician, yet I can recognize that we are in a bind here."
I closed my eyes, and I started plating my hair with my index finger. I don't know what it is, but ever since I was a child, whenever I needed to think deeply about something, I had this urge to play with my hair.
"Why don't we turn our blunder into a tactic?"
Commander Kahir looked at me, confused.
"What do you mean?"
I smiled.
"Out in the open, we will communicate with the merchant guild one way, and through an exchange of papyrus, we will communicate with another thing. That way, through the possible spies, we will not only command our army but also the enemy army. Keep in mind that the fact that there are spies in the Merchant Guild is not a sure thing.
We could shift the timing of the campaign out in the open and create a fake caravan, which they might be interested in. In short, we could feed them false information as much as we can."
Commander Kahir smiled at me.
"You have a knack for this, don't you?"
I smiled. I've always been weak to praise.
"I don't know about that."
Since I'm still a mere soldier, it's actually inappropriate for us to have this conversation. A mere solider can't overstep his station too much. Sure, a line of communication through a command structure is important. But just as important is the authority of the higher member over the lower member of the organization.
I excused myself and left. My nerves can't handle further conversation with this authority figure. One word of his will make or break my life. Commander Kahir might not recognize this, but my life is but a weak candle.
A government is a sandstorm, and I am a little speck of sand that obeys its winds. I can't overstep my station. I would be squashed in no time. My only real hope in life is to obey. I knew when I enlisted in the priesthood that I would be in this situation. Order comes, and I obey. I sold my soul to neither Apep nor Ra. I sold my soul to the pharoh. He will use me and abuse me, and in return, he will give me a sliver of hope that I could attain eternity.
I made my way to my sand territory. The reabsorbing of the energies is a sublime feeling. If I had to describe it, I'd say it's like becoming less me and more everything else. It's not a connection with everything in the world but a dissolution of oneself. When the meditation ends, the ego snaps back into place in a form that has changed forever.
Like the sands of time, the golden sands erode. It hungers for my anhilation and dispersion. It yearns for the moment I rot, crumble, and join it in being sand. It's as if the sands have minds of their own. They slip through my fingers and scatter in the wind.
My arcane heart feels stuffy. It converts the stored up energy at the rate of a mere trickle. I can feel that I would've been able to advance a lot faster if that trickle was a bit faster. It's the hard limit introduced by the quality of the arcane heart.
Done with my medication, I made my way home. Asenath was waiting for me with a gift. She had found a glyph sceme that creates and fires a bolt of energy on command. Asenath was pleased with me.
"I begged the head priestess for this. I don't know how to read, so she had to put time aside for me so she could give me this glyph. I owe her a bit."
She keeps thinking about me. She doesn't realize she is way above me now as an arcane priest trainee. She is on her way to high nobility. I kissed her lips, thankful. She still blushes and touches her lips whenever I kiss her. She never gets tired of me. I don't know what's so special about me, but I'm not complaining.
She told me that ever since she activated her arcane heart through Bastet, she has become quite flexible. To prove it, she leaned back and put her palms on the ground. Balancing on her hands, she flipped her legs in the air and stood upside down. She then contorted herself back on her own two legs. While doing that, she barely moved a step away from where she was. She is looking at me, expecting praise for her little trick. I could respond to her the way she'd like, but that sets a bad precedent. People pleasers are vulnerable to abusers. Instead of creating a dynamic in which I constantly validate her, I want a relationship where we just connect. So, I put my palm on her back and lifted her up.
She yelled with excitement and joy. She likes the fact that the man she likes could lift her with one hand. She is having a laughing fit, folded in around my hand. Her body is like that of a cat. She decided to roll around and fall into my arms. When I caught her, she was extatic. Her eyes gleam when she looks at me. Those are the eyes of someone who is in love.
She is sniffing me, kissing me, and hugging me. She is hungry for my flesh.
"I heard you were going to war. Is that true?"
I nodded. There is no point in hiding anything from her.
"It's forbidden for me to say where, but I will most likely fight somewhere."
She looked solemn. She decided to leave the room. Half an hour later, she came back into the room with a plate of fruit.
I attempted to pick up a slice of fruit. She slapped my hand away and fed the fruits to me instead. Each time she stuffed a piece of fruit into my mouth, her mouth would emphatically move in tandem. I love the little habits she has. I love recognizing them and knowing them.
She becomes happier the more she feeds me these fruits, yet there is grief in her eyes. She is clearly upset that I'm going to war.
She leaned in and told me what she wanted from me. Her eyes are beseeching me. She begs me.
"Put a baby in me."