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Zoser had been tasked with many things since the pronouncement of War with Greece in the week before. His meetings with the King of Kings were frequent and brief, often resulting in a follow-up meeting within the next day or so. Fortunately for Zoser, many of these meetings aligned well with his usual social visits among the various Heis. It was a habit he had established years before, particularly when it came to aligning the various records and life changes - births, deaths, marriages - within the Archives, keeping a living history of the Kingdom.
As the small felucca crept down the private tributary towards the dock, Zoser adjusted his attire, ensuring to align the broad amulet of his station as Chief of the Royal Scribes, depicting Thoth - the god of scribes and knowledge. While he opted to wear khol to counteract the effects of the harsh sun on the Nile, he did forgo the wig and his more ostentatious adornments.
He never wore those when visiting H'Moghadam.
Despite nearly a decade of such visits, both official and unofficial, Zoser maintained an uneasiness within his gut. To accepted and welcomed into the home, with the private knowledge of his shared blood remaining within the walls of the Saraaya, yet to not bear the name or public acknowledgement of such a bloodline made it hard to scrub the taste of bitterness from his tongue. There was a desire to please his father, Osorsen I, but there was only so much that could be done. As such, he both anticipated the excuse of these visits on official business in the far-flung hope of maintaining the connection.
A perpetual, I am still here.
Striding up the slick stairs and into the entryway, Zoser was directed, per usual, to the Grand Parlor to await the arrival of General Osorsen II - his nephew. Upon seeing the man's approach, Zoser obediently dipped into his bow - brief, efficient, and lacking all ostentation - as he spoke.
"I must express my surprise at finding you at home, with so much to do before the journey north." It was true that Osorsen being present made his job much easier, especially knowing that he was to issue the man the task of great importance. Knowing his way around the H'Moghadam estate quite well, he glanced to the servants before tilting his head towards one of the studies that had doors to be sealed.
While he never doubted the loyalty of the servants, Zoser was loathe to give them any fuel for the gossip. In fact, it was always best if his name was kept off their lips at all time, particularly within these walls.
And especially with the casual and forward words he spoke as he closed the door behind them.
"Iahotep has a task for you, and for once, it is one that I doubt will cause you to balk," he started, settling into the air of familiarity between them. It was no secret that distaste for the Pharaoh was far too subtle of a word for what Osorsen felt against the man. In his nephew's eyes, his rightful place at Hatshepsut's side was snatched away on false promises and stolen valor. Zoser knew better than to call the man by his title in private, though they both knew their places outside of the walls.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Zoser had been tasked with many things since the pronouncement of War with Greece in the week before. His meetings with the King of Kings were frequent and brief, often resulting in a follow-up meeting within the next day or so. Fortunately for Zoser, many of these meetings aligned well with his usual social visits among the various Heis. It was a habit he had established years before, particularly when it came to aligning the various records and life changes - births, deaths, marriages - within the Archives, keeping a living history of the Kingdom.
As the small felucca crept down the private tributary towards the dock, Zoser adjusted his attire, ensuring to align the broad amulet of his station as Chief of the Royal Scribes, depicting Thoth - the god of scribes and knowledge. While he opted to wear khol to counteract the effects of the harsh sun on the Nile, he did forgo the wig and his more ostentatious adornments.
He never wore those when visiting H'Moghadam.
Despite nearly a decade of such visits, both official and unofficial, Zoser maintained an uneasiness within his gut. To accepted and welcomed into the home, with the private knowledge of his shared blood remaining within the walls of the Saraaya, yet to not bear the name or public acknowledgement of such a bloodline made it hard to scrub the taste of bitterness from his tongue. There was a desire to please his father, Osorsen I, but there was only so much that could be done. As such, he both anticipated the excuse of these visits on official business in the far-flung hope of maintaining the connection.
A perpetual, I am still here.
Striding up the slick stairs and into the entryway, Zoser was directed, per usual, to the Grand Parlor to await the arrival of General Osorsen II - his nephew. Upon seeing the man's approach, Zoser obediently dipped into his bow - brief, efficient, and lacking all ostentation - as he spoke.
"I must express my surprise at finding you at home, with so much to do before the journey north." It was true that Osorsen being present made his job much easier, especially knowing that he was to issue the man the task of great importance. Knowing his way around the H'Moghadam estate quite well, he glanced to the servants before tilting his head towards one of the studies that had doors to be sealed.
While he never doubted the loyalty of the servants, Zoser was loathe to give them any fuel for the gossip. In fact, it was always best if his name was kept off their lips at all time, particularly within these walls.
And especially with the casual and forward words he spoke as he closed the door behind them.
"Iahotep has a task for you, and for once, it is one that I doubt will cause you to balk," he started, settling into the air of familiarity between them. It was no secret that distaste for the Pharaoh was far too subtle of a word for what Osorsen felt against the man. In his nephew's eyes, his rightful place at Hatshepsut's side was snatched away on false promises and stolen valor. Zoser knew better than to call the man by his title in private, though they both knew their places outside of the walls.
Zoser had been tasked with many things since the pronouncement of War with Greece in the week before. His meetings with the King of Kings were frequent and brief, often resulting in a follow-up meeting within the next day or so. Fortunately for Zoser, many of these meetings aligned well with his usual social visits among the various Heis. It was a habit he had established years before, particularly when it came to aligning the various records and life changes - births, deaths, marriages - within the Archives, keeping a living history of the Kingdom.
As the small felucca crept down the private tributary towards the dock, Zoser adjusted his attire, ensuring to align the broad amulet of his station as Chief of the Royal Scribes, depicting Thoth - the god of scribes and knowledge. While he opted to wear khol to counteract the effects of the harsh sun on the Nile, he did forgo the wig and his more ostentatious adornments.
He never wore those when visiting H'Moghadam.
Despite nearly a decade of such visits, both official and unofficial, Zoser maintained an uneasiness within his gut. To accepted and welcomed into the home, with the private knowledge of his shared blood remaining within the walls of the Saraaya, yet to not bear the name or public acknowledgement of such a bloodline made it hard to scrub the taste of bitterness from his tongue. There was a desire to please his father, Osorsen I, but there was only so much that could be done. As such, he both anticipated the excuse of these visits on official business in the far-flung hope of maintaining the connection.
A perpetual, I am still here.
Striding up the slick stairs and into the entryway, Zoser was directed, per usual, to the Grand Parlor to await the arrival of General Osorsen II - his nephew. Upon seeing the man's approach, Zoser obediently dipped into his bow - brief, efficient, and lacking all ostentation - as he spoke.
"I must express my surprise at finding you at home, with so much to do before the journey north." It was true that Osorsen being present made his job much easier, especially knowing that he was to issue the man the task of great importance. Knowing his way around the H'Moghadam estate quite well, he glanced to the servants before tilting his head towards one of the studies that had doors to be sealed.
While he never doubted the loyalty of the servants, Zoser was loathe to give them any fuel for the gossip. In fact, it was always best if his name was kept off their lips at all time, particularly within these walls.
And especially with the casual and forward words he spoke as he closed the door behind them.
"Iahotep has a task for you, and for once, it is one that I doubt will cause you to balk," he started, settling into the air of familiarity between them. It was no secret that distaste for the Pharaoh was far too subtle of a word for what Osorsen felt against the man. In his nephew's eyes, his rightful place at Hatshepsut's side was snatched away on false promises and stolen valor. Zoser knew better than to call the man by his title in private, though they both knew their places outside of the walls.
A slave had alerted him of the ship's arrival before it had come to dock, drawing him from his staring blankly at the correspondence on his desk. Sitting back in a loose robe of a dark red over his basic kilt, feet bare and body free of any adornment, he hardly looked the picture of powerful general he usually presented to the world. There was no need at the moment, no reason for him to be more than a man grieving the loss of love and start of war.
With a wave of his hand at the slave, he gave an order for wine to be brought forth and stood slowly, making his way down to the entrance from the dock. His uncle looked more harried than usual, but who wasn't in this day. Scoffing at the comment about preparing to head north, Oso shook his head and offered a hand of welcome to the older man before guiding them inside to one of the sitting rooms within. A small spotted cat slunk in from the garden, winding herself between her master's legs until the man sat and she could leap into prime position for his absent hand to stroke.
"You forget there was a time not long past when I might have happily welcomed news from a friend. My disgust for him began only when he lied and stole from me to gain what he wanted."
There was little need for formality with his uncle, in spite of the few people that knew their true relationship. Ever since his return ten years prior, Zoser had proven himself to be one of the Moghadam blood beyond a shadow of a doubt, and continued to do so by keeping the Heis interest close to his heart. The man before him too was one of the few who knew the extent of Osorsen's relationship with the queen, and their hoped for plans that had been destroyed by the very man who'd sent him here.
"What does he want now? I will not be quick to rush myself or my men into this war. There is little sport in it."
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A slave had alerted him of the ship's arrival before it had come to dock, drawing him from his staring blankly at the correspondence on his desk. Sitting back in a loose robe of a dark red over his basic kilt, feet bare and body free of any adornment, he hardly looked the picture of powerful general he usually presented to the world. There was no need at the moment, no reason for him to be more than a man grieving the loss of love and start of war.
With a wave of his hand at the slave, he gave an order for wine to be brought forth and stood slowly, making his way down to the entrance from the dock. His uncle looked more harried than usual, but who wasn't in this day. Scoffing at the comment about preparing to head north, Oso shook his head and offered a hand of welcome to the older man before guiding them inside to one of the sitting rooms within. A small spotted cat slunk in from the garden, winding herself between her master's legs until the man sat and she could leap into prime position for his absent hand to stroke.
"You forget there was a time not long past when I might have happily welcomed news from a friend. My disgust for him began only when he lied and stole from me to gain what he wanted."
There was little need for formality with his uncle, in spite of the few people that knew their true relationship. Ever since his return ten years prior, Zoser had proven himself to be one of the Moghadam blood beyond a shadow of a doubt, and continued to do so by keeping the Heis interest close to his heart. The man before him too was one of the few who knew the extent of Osorsen's relationship with the queen, and their hoped for plans that had been destroyed by the very man who'd sent him here.
"What does he want now? I will not be quick to rush myself or my men into this war. There is little sport in it."
A slave had alerted him of the ship's arrival before it had come to dock, drawing him from his staring blankly at the correspondence on his desk. Sitting back in a loose robe of a dark red over his basic kilt, feet bare and body free of any adornment, he hardly looked the picture of powerful general he usually presented to the world. There was no need at the moment, no reason for him to be more than a man grieving the loss of love and start of war.
With a wave of his hand at the slave, he gave an order for wine to be brought forth and stood slowly, making his way down to the entrance from the dock. His uncle looked more harried than usual, but who wasn't in this day. Scoffing at the comment about preparing to head north, Oso shook his head and offered a hand of welcome to the older man before guiding them inside to one of the sitting rooms within. A small spotted cat slunk in from the garden, winding herself between her master's legs until the man sat and she could leap into prime position for his absent hand to stroke.
"You forget there was a time not long past when I might have happily welcomed news from a friend. My disgust for him began only when he lied and stole from me to gain what he wanted."
There was little need for formality with his uncle, in spite of the few people that knew their true relationship. Ever since his return ten years prior, Zoser had proven himself to be one of the Moghadam blood beyond a shadow of a doubt, and continued to do so by keeping the Heis interest close to his heart. The man before him too was one of the few who knew the extent of Osorsen's relationship with the queen, and their hoped for plans that had been destroyed by the very man who'd sent him here.
"What does he want now? I will not be quick to rush myself or my men into this war. There is little sport in it."
Zoser could see the lingering mournfulness on his nephew's face, but made no physical acknowledgement of it in his expression. The things Zoser knew were best left unspoken with regards to the reasons behind Osorsen's emotions. He felt for his kin's loss and knew all too well the cost it came at - lost friendship and the attainment of a harsher form of rule than they had previously lived beneath.
Iahotep had once been a friend and comrade to them both in their own way, through Osorsen's military feats and the relations that they both had as advisors to the Crown, a passageway that crossed Zoser's path as he advised the Queen and Queen Dowager.
Oh, how times had changed.
"I have not forgotten," Zoser noted, sighing heavily as as he let those thoughts of the past move on.
"No, thanks be to the gods, he does not wish to send you away too soon. In fact, the opposite." Zoser leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as his hands curled around the goblet of wine that had been poured for him before the slave had left the room. He scanned the face of his nephew, always finding it striking how looking at his nephew's eyes felt much like seeing his reflection in a looking glass. Taking an inhale, he puffed it out before speaking.
"Doubtlessly, you know about the attempt made on his life in the weeks past through poison," he said, plainly, knowing that among this close circle, it was common knowledge - if not too close indeed, "He distrusts many within the Palace now. Yet, he was impressed by your initiative to protect Her Radiance at Sarayaa Hakiaddad."
There was a slight lilt to his voice, and a bemused yet unimpressed expression as well. There was no telling how that night would have gone if the Pharaoh had stepped into that room moments early to catch the glance shared between Osorsen and the Queen. Their heads could have all been on stakes along the River Nile if it were not for the intervention of mere moments and the gods' favor.
"He trusts you, at least with regard to Queen Hatshepsut," Zoser continued, his tone noting the irony in it all with a slight laugh and a shake of his head as he began to lift the goblet to his lips, only sipping once he said, "He wants you to procure new guards for Her Evening Radiance who have your unquestioning loyalty."
Zoser took a long swell of the wine, noting immediately it's Grecian origins. Ah, his nephew knew him well.
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Zoser could see the lingering mournfulness on his nephew's face, but made no physical acknowledgement of it in his expression. The things Zoser knew were best left unspoken with regards to the reasons behind Osorsen's emotions. He felt for his kin's loss and knew all too well the cost it came at - lost friendship and the attainment of a harsher form of rule than they had previously lived beneath.
Iahotep had once been a friend and comrade to them both in their own way, through Osorsen's military feats and the relations that they both had as advisors to the Crown, a passageway that crossed Zoser's path as he advised the Queen and Queen Dowager.
Oh, how times had changed.
"I have not forgotten," Zoser noted, sighing heavily as as he let those thoughts of the past move on.
"No, thanks be to the gods, he does not wish to send you away too soon. In fact, the opposite." Zoser leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as his hands curled around the goblet of wine that had been poured for him before the slave had left the room. He scanned the face of his nephew, always finding it striking how looking at his nephew's eyes felt much like seeing his reflection in a looking glass. Taking an inhale, he puffed it out before speaking.
"Doubtlessly, you know about the attempt made on his life in the weeks past through poison," he said, plainly, knowing that among this close circle, it was common knowledge - if not too close indeed, "He distrusts many within the Palace now. Yet, he was impressed by your initiative to protect Her Radiance at Sarayaa Hakiaddad."
There was a slight lilt to his voice, and a bemused yet unimpressed expression as well. There was no telling how that night would have gone if the Pharaoh had stepped into that room moments early to catch the glance shared between Osorsen and the Queen. Their heads could have all been on stakes along the River Nile if it were not for the intervention of mere moments and the gods' favor.
"He trusts you, at least with regard to Queen Hatshepsut," Zoser continued, his tone noting the irony in it all with a slight laugh and a shake of his head as he began to lift the goblet to his lips, only sipping once he said, "He wants you to procure new guards for Her Evening Radiance who have your unquestioning loyalty."
Zoser took a long swell of the wine, noting immediately it's Grecian origins. Ah, his nephew knew him well.
Zoser could see the lingering mournfulness on his nephew's face, but made no physical acknowledgement of it in his expression. The things Zoser knew were best left unspoken with regards to the reasons behind Osorsen's emotions. He felt for his kin's loss and knew all too well the cost it came at - lost friendship and the attainment of a harsher form of rule than they had previously lived beneath.
Iahotep had once been a friend and comrade to them both in their own way, through Osorsen's military feats and the relations that they both had as advisors to the Crown, a passageway that crossed Zoser's path as he advised the Queen and Queen Dowager.
Oh, how times had changed.
"I have not forgotten," Zoser noted, sighing heavily as as he let those thoughts of the past move on.
"No, thanks be to the gods, he does not wish to send you away too soon. In fact, the opposite." Zoser leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as his hands curled around the goblet of wine that had been poured for him before the slave had left the room. He scanned the face of his nephew, always finding it striking how looking at his nephew's eyes felt much like seeing his reflection in a looking glass. Taking an inhale, he puffed it out before speaking.
"Doubtlessly, you know about the attempt made on his life in the weeks past through poison," he said, plainly, knowing that among this close circle, it was common knowledge - if not too close indeed, "He distrusts many within the Palace now. Yet, he was impressed by your initiative to protect Her Radiance at Sarayaa Hakiaddad."
There was a slight lilt to his voice, and a bemused yet unimpressed expression as well. There was no telling how that night would have gone if the Pharaoh had stepped into that room moments early to catch the glance shared between Osorsen and the Queen. Their heads could have all been on stakes along the River Nile if it were not for the intervention of mere moments and the gods' favor.
"He trusts you, at least with regard to Queen Hatshepsut," Zoser continued, his tone noting the irony in it all with a slight laugh and a shake of his head as he began to lift the goblet to his lips, only sipping once he said, "He wants you to procure new guards for Her Evening Radiance who have your unquestioning loyalty."
Zoser took a long swell of the wine, noting immediately it's Grecian origins. Ah, his nephew knew him well.
The cat the color of sand stepped happily onto his lap, purring as she kneaded the material of his robe beneath her paws and arching her head into his attentions. She was a welcome distraction and relief as his uncle settled across from him to give the news that he had been sent to deliver. Aside from a huffed breath he didn't acknowledge the comment that he would not be sent away too soon. Iahotep could pass orders down the river as often as he liked, but Osorsen found that unless they pleased him, he had little motivation to jump to attention these days. His loyal service to the crown was to the queen, not the man she'd married.
"I had heard there was more cause for caution these days. It is a shame they did not find who made the attempt." He would have happily allied himself with them if only their identity could be revealed to him. "Distrust comes easily to a man who's entire position is not based on his birthright. It is a precarious place to be."
Anyone listening could have easily taken his words for treason, but just as easily hear in them support. He'd taken to this coded sort of speech as the only way to keep his head without marching to the palace and killing the false pharaoh himself. Lifting his wine once more to his lips now that the cat had settled and his uncle had begun to tell his tale, Osorsen's brow raised, truly surprised for once at this news.
"He wishes me to protect her. Perhaps he knows more than he lets on. Else he wants an excuse to have me killed if my men fail."
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and set the wine to the side before looking out over the gardens below them with a pensive furrow to his brows. He knew who he would leave behind to watch over her, certain men he trusted with both his life and hers would ensure that no harm came to her. There would be no way to guarantee though that treachery could not somehow be concocted to get to them from the inside. His life would be forfeit if she was harmed while guarded by his own. And it would mean fewer of his most trusted men to be by his side in the field of battle, which would allow for an easier accidental death of the greatest rival the pharaoh had.
Oso had not spoken to Hatshepsut alone since finding that she was with child, had not yet been able to question her about the timeline. There were only a few weeks between when he had left and her marriage, and if the child was born sooner than expected, he would have the leverage he desired.
"Her Evening Radiance will have my best. You can assure them both of that."
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The cat the color of sand stepped happily onto his lap, purring as she kneaded the material of his robe beneath her paws and arching her head into his attentions. She was a welcome distraction and relief as his uncle settled across from him to give the news that he had been sent to deliver. Aside from a huffed breath he didn't acknowledge the comment that he would not be sent away too soon. Iahotep could pass orders down the river as often as he liked, but Osorsen found that unless they pleased him, he had little motivation to jump to attention these days. His loyal service to the crown was to the queen, not the man she'd married.
"I had heard there was more cause for caution these days. It is a shame they did not find who made the attempt." He would have happily allied himself with them if only their identity could be revealed to him. "Distrust comes easily to a man who's entire position is not based on his birthright. It is a precarious place to be."
Anyone listening could have easily taken his words for treason, but just as easily hear in them support. He'd taken to this coded sort of speech as the only way to keep his head without marching to the palace and killing the false pharaoh himself. Lifting his wine once more to his lips now that the cat had settled and his uncle had begun to tell his tale, Osorsen's brow raised, truly surprised for once at this news.
"He wishes me to protect her. Perhaps he knows more than he lets on. Else he wants an excuse to have me killed if my men fail."
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and set the wine to the side before looking out over the gardens below them with a pensive furrow to his brows. He knew who he would leave behind to watch over her, certain men he trusted with both his life and hers would ensure that no harm came to her. There would be no way to guarantee though that treachery could not somehow be concocted to get to them from the inside. His life would be forfeit if she was harmed while guarded by his own. And it would mean fewer of his most trusted men to be by his side in the field of battle, which would allow for an easier accidental death of the greatest rival the pharaoh had.
Oso had not spoken to Hatshepsut alone since finding that she was with child, had not yet been able to question her about the timeline. There were only a few weeks between when he had left and her marriage, and if the child was born sooner than expected, he would have the leverage he desired.
"Her Evening Radiance will have my best. You can assure them both of that."
The cat the color of sand stepped happily onto his lap, purring as she kneaded the material of his robe beneath her paws and arching her head into his attentions. She was a welcome distraction and relief as his uncle settled across from him to give the news that he had been sent to deliver. Aside from a huffed breath he didn't acknowledge the comment that he would not be sent away too soon. Iahotep could pass orders down the river as often as he liked, but Osorsen found that unless they pleased him, he had little motivation to jump to attention these days. His loyal service to the crown was to the queen, not the man she'd married.
"I had heard there was more cause for caution these days. It is a shame they did not find who made the attempt." He would have happily allied himself with them if only their identity could be revealed to him. "Distrust comes easily to a man who's entire position is not based on his birthright. It is a precarious place to be."
Anyone listening could have easily taken his words for treason, but just as easily hear in them support. He'd taken to this coded sort of speech as the only way to keep his head without marching to the palace and killing the false pharaoh himself. Lifting his wine once more to his lips now that the cat had settled and his uncle had begun to tell his tale, Osorsen's brow raised, truly surprised for once at this news.
"He wishes me to protect her. Perhaps he knows more than he lets on. Else he wants an excuse to have me killed if my men fail."
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and set the wine to the side before looking out over the gardens below them with a pensive furrow to his brows. He knew who he would leave behind to watch over her, certain men he trusted with both his life and hers would ensure that no harm came to her. There would be no way to guarantee though that treachery could not somehow be concocted to get to them from the inside. His life would be forfeit if she was harmed while guarded by his own. And it would mean fewer of his most trusted men to be by his side in the field of battle, which would allow for an easier accidental death of the greatest rival the pharaoh had.
Oso had not spoken to Hatshepsut alone since finding that she was with child, had not yet been able to question her about the timeline. There were only a few weeks between when he had left and her marriage, and if the child was born sooner than expected, he would have the leverage he desired.
"Her Evening Radiance will have my best. You can assure them both of that."
Zoser could not help but find the amusement in seeing Osorsen's mindless affection towards the cat the claimed his lap, knowing that Maut and the kittens in the Archives did much the same thing, especially when he and his scribes were knee deep in too much work. None of them minded, though, as the little creatures managed to offer a smile and a distraction. Many of the scribes saw them as blessings from Bastet, seeing them as little guardians of their work, despite the truth of the matter where they overturned inkwells and batted styluses across the floor in a clatter.
Humming a soft sound at the General's remark, that sounded clear of issue to the unknowing ear but held wealths of true intent beneath it that the two men shared in knowledge. The smirk that accompanied his hum faltered as he thought of merely days before, in the presence of the distrusting man they spoke of, where a misspoken word resulted in a few blows that landed across his torso upon the Pharaoh's order. Despite not being of a warrior's built, Zoser was blessed to not bruise very easily, yet he still worse the sash of his station strategically across his torso, just in case.
"As would it is for anyone who weds the blood of the gods," Zoser noted, knowing that the uniqueness of the lack of a male heir and knowing that in order to continue Hei Naddar through the young Queen, any man would have fallen into such a precarious position, whether from opposition within the Kingdom or without.
"I do not believe so. Let us hope that is never the case, or you will see the inside of a tomb before you ever step foot on the field of battle, Osorsen," Zoser replied, his tone remaining congenial with a shift of warning behind it.
Osorsen had no father-figure besides his elder namesake, whose health and general awareness of his nephew and heir's doings was significantly lacking. Once one of the greatest generals in their generation, he had fallen into a pleasant complacency of what his accomplishments had achieved in his youth. Zoser could not help but wonder if he was taking a nap somewhere in the Saraaya, lounged in a sunbeam like one of the cats.
Still, the point of the matter was that, if no one else who was aware could warn and guide the future Head of Hei Moghadam, Zoser would do so. Being neither a father nor a noble by name or birth, the best he could do for the man was to fall into the roles he had always excelled in - as advisor and teacher.
"There was never a doubt in my mind that it would be so," Zoser affirmed, taking a long swell of wine as if to seal it with whichever gods were listening, like an oath. Setting his drink aside as well, Zoser stood. The soreness around his ribs and torso led him to grunt and wince ever so slightly, but he pressed a practiced smile in place and shrugged slightly, as if to blame it on usual aches and pains for his age.
As he picked up his goblet again, he strode easily and lazily about the room, speaking of other official business.
"I am certain you are up to date on the missives from the Financiers? There have been misplaced funds within the Palace and the Treasury's men will begin their audit soon. Before I go today, I will do a once-over of Hei Moghadam's accounts, just be certain. Though, from what I have seen, I doubt that this Hei will have the concerns of others."
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Zoser could not help but find the amusement in seeing Osorsen's mindless affection towards the cat the claimed his lap, knowing that Maut and the kittens in the Archives did much the same thing, especially when he and his scribes were knee deep in too much work. None of them minded, though, as the little creatures managed to offer a smile and a distraction. Many of the scribes saw them as blessings from Bastet, seeing them as little guardians of their work, despite the truth of the matter where they overturned inkwells and batted styluses across the floor in a clatter.
Humming a soft sound at the General's remark, that sounded clear of issue to the unknowing ear but held wealths of true intent beneath it that the two men shared in knowledge. The smirk that accompanied his hum faltered as he thought of merely days before, in the presence of the distrusting man they spoke of, where a misspoken word resulted in a few blows that landed across his torso upon the Pharaoh's order. Despite not being of a warrior's built, Zoser was blessed to not bruise very easily, yet he still worse the sash of his station strategically across his torso, just in case.
"As would it is for anyone who weds the blood of the gods," Zoser noted, knowing that the uniqueness of the lack of a male heir and knowing that in order to continue Hei Naddar through the young Queen, any man would have fallen into such a precarious position, whether from opposition within the Kingdom or without.
"I do not believe so. Let us hope that is never the case, or you will see the inside of a tomb before you ever step foot on the field of battle, Osorsen," Zoser replied, his tone remaining congenial with a shift of warning behind it.
Osorsen had no father-figure besides his elder namesake, whose health and general awareness of his nephew and heir's doings was significantly lacking. Once one of the greatest generals in their generation, he had fallen into a pleasant complacency of what his accomplishments had achieved in his youth. Zoser could not help but wonder if he was taking a nap somewhere in the Saraaya, lounged in a sunbeam like one of the cats.
Still, the point of the matter was that, if no one else who was aware could warn and guide the future Head of Hei Moghadam, Zoser would do so. Being neither a father nor a noble by name or birth, the best he could do for the man was to fall into the roles he had always excelled in - as advisor and teacher.
"There was never a doubt in my mind that it would be so," Zoser affirmed, taking a long swell of wine as if to seal it with whichever gods were listening, like an oath. Setting his drink aside as well, Zoser stood. The soreness around his ribs and torso led him to grunt and wince ever so slightly, but he pressed a practiced smile in place and shrugged slightly, as if to blame it on usual aches and pains for his age.
As he picked up his goblet again, he strode easily and lazily about the room, speaking of other official business.
"I am certain you are up to date on the missives from the Financiers? There have been misplaced funds within the Palace and the Treasury's men will begin their audit soon. Before I go today, I will do a once-over of Hei Moghadam's accounts, just be certain. Though, from what I have seen, I doubt that this Hei will have the concerns of others."
Zoser could not help but find the amusement in seeing Osorsen's mindless affection towards the cat the claimed his lap, knowing that Maut and the kittens in the Archives did much the same thing, especially when he and his scribes were knee deep in too much work. None of them minded, though, as the little creatures managed to offer a smile and a distraction. Many of the scribes saw them as blessings from Bastet, seeing them as little guardians of their work, despite the truth of the matter where they overturned inkwells and batted styluses across the floor in a clatter.
Humming a soft sound at the General's remark, that sounded clear of issue to the unknowing ear but held wealths of true intent beneath it that the two men shared in knowledge. The smirk that accompanied his hum faltered as he thought of merely days before, in the presence of the distrusting man they spoke of, where a misspoken word resulted in a few blows that landed across his torso upon the Pharaoh's order. Despite not being of a warrior's built, Zoser was blessed to not bruise very easily, yet he still worse the sash of his station strategically across his torso, just in case.
"As would it is for anyone who weds the blood of the gods," Zoser noted, knowing that the uniqueness of the lack of a male heir and knowing that in order to continue Hei Naddar through the young Queen, any man would have fallen into such a precarious position, whether from opposition within the Kingdom or without.
"I do not believe so. Let us hope that is never the case, or you will see the inside of a tomb before you ever step foot on the field of battle, Osorsen," Zoser replied, his tone remaining congenial with a shift of warning behind it.
Osorsen had no father-figure besides his elder namesake, whose health and general awareness of his nephew and heir's doings was significantly lacking. Once one of the greatest generals in their generation, he had fallen into a pleasant complacency of what his accomplishments had achieved in his youth. Zoser could not help but wonder if he was taking a nap somewhere in the Saraaya, lounged in a sunbeam like one of the cats.
Still, the point of the matter was that, if no one else who was aware could warn and guide the future Head of Hei Moghadam, Zoser would do so. Being neither a father nor a noble by name or birth, the best he could do for the man was to fall into the roles he had always excelled in - as advisor and teacher.
"There was never a doubt in my mind that it would be so," Zoser affirmed, taking a long swell of wine as if to seal it with whichever gods were listening, like an oath. Setting his drink aside as well, Zoser stood. The soreness around his ribs and torso led him to grunt and wince ever so slightly, but he pressed a practiced smile in place and shrugged slightly, as if to blame it on usual aches and pains for his age.
As he picked up his goblet again, he strode easily and lazily about the room, speaking of other official business.
"I am certain you are up to date on the missives from the Financiers? There have been misplaced funds within the Palace and the Treasury's men will begin their audit soon. Before I go today, I will do a once-over of Hei Moghadam's accounts, just be certain. Though, from what I have seen, I doubt that this Hei will have the concerns of others."
"You think I won't see the inside of a tomb either way? You have more faith in him than I do."
Whether Iahotep knew of his feelings for the queen, or simply saw him as a threat for other reasons, like the stolen battles that he had used as part of his bid to secure his post as pharaoh, Osorsen became more certain by the day that the man would find a way to be rid of him. If he wasn't assassinated or executed for some falsified reason before the war began, there would no doubt be a rogue archer prepared to take him out. Something to try to rally the troops, blame on the Greeks. In a way, he wouldn't mind it. Dying on the field of battle was how he fully expected to lose his life, and at least there would be some sort of honor in it for his grandfather in the end.
Staring off into the distance of the grounds beyond, he only vaguely listened to what else his uncle had to say. Something about the missives that he had been allowing to pile up on his desk somewhere since he'd gotten back from Greece. Including the letter from Fotios of Leventi with the rejection of his proposal. She was no doubt engaged to the Kotas boy now, the one they called the Blood General, and there was a flash of rage at the thought of having yet another woman he desired taken from him by a man less deserving. She had spent most of the evening by his side, not with the other Greek, what was it then that was so much more appealing.
Oso waved his hand as Zoser spoke of auditing the funds of his house, impatient with the thought of having to be involved in such things. Whatever was missing from the treasury likely had more to do with the mishandling of the new pharaoh and his mother-in-law than anything else.
"Yes. Do as you wish. You know where everything is." He ground his teeth for a moment, gritting them as he looked down to the cat in his lap, seeking to draw some of her easy peace before he spoke, sharing with his uncle what he had kept from everyone else.
"I sent a marriage proposal when I returned from Greece. It has been rejected."
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"You think I won't see the inside of a tomb either way? You have more faith in him than I do."
Whether Iahotep knew of his feelings for the queen, or simply saw him as a threat for other reasons, like the stolen battles that he had used as part of his bid to secure his post as pharaoh, Osorsen became more certain by the day that the man would find a way to be rid of him. If he wasn't assassinated or executed for some falsified reason before the war began, there would no doubt be a rogue archer prepared to take him out. Something to try to rally the troops, blame on the Greeks. In a way, he wouldn't mind it. Dying on the field of battle was how he fully expected to lose his life, and at least there would be some sort of honor in it for his grandfather in the end.
Staring off into the distance of the grounds beyond, he only vaguely listened to what else his uncle had to say. Something about the missives that he had been allowing to pile up on his desk somewhere since he'd gotten back from Greece. Including the letter from Fotios of Leventi with the rejection of his proposal. She was no doubt engaged to the Kotas boy now, the one they called the Blood General, and there was a flash of rage at the thought of having yet another woman he desired taken from him by a man less deserving. She had spent most of the evening by his side, not with the other Greek, what was it then that was so much more appealing.
Oso waved his hand as Zoser spoke of auditing the funds of his house, impatient with the thought of having to be involved in such things. Whatever was missing from the treasury likely had more to do with the mishandling of the new pharaoh and his mother-in-law than anything else.
"Yes. Do as you wish. You know where everything is." He ground his teeth for a moment, gritting them as he looked down to the cat in his lap, seeking to draw some of her easy peace before he spoke, sharing with his uncle what he had kept from everyone else.
"I sent a marriage proposal when I returned from Greece. It has been rejected."
"You think I won't see the inside of a tomb either way? You have more faith in him than I do."
Whether Iahotep knew of his feelings for the queen, or simply saw him as a threat for other reasons, like the stolen battles that he had used as part of his bid to secure his post as pharaoh, Osorsen became more certain by the day that the man would find a way to be rid of him. If he wasn't assassinated or executed for some falsified reason before the war began, there would no doubt be a rogue archer prepared to take him out. Something to try to rally the troops, blame on the Greeks. In a way, he wouldn't mind it. Dying on the field of battle was how he fully expected to lose his life, and at least there would be some sort of honor in it for his grandfather in the end.
Staring off into the distance of the grounds beyond, he only vaguely listened to what else his uncle had to say. Something about the missives that he had been allowing to pile up on his desk somewhere since he'd gotten back from Greece. Including the letter from Fotios of Leventi with the rejection of his proposal. She was no doubt engaged to the Kotas boy now, the one they called the Blood General, and there was a flash of rage at the thought of having yet another woman he desired taken from him by a man less deserving. She had spent most of the evening by his side, not with the other Greek, what was it then that was so much more appealing.
Oso waved his hand as Zoser spoke of auditing the funds of his house, impatient with the thought of having to be involved in such things. Whatever was missing from the treasury likely had more to do with the mishandling of the new pharaoh and his mother-in-law than anything else.
"Yes. Do as you wish. You know where everything is." He ground his teeth for a moment, gritting them as he looked down to the cat in his lap, seeking to draw some of her easy peace before he spoke, sharing with his uncle what he had kept from everyone else.
"I sent a marriage proposal when I returned from Greece. It has been rejected."
Zoser raised a single brow as he glanced back to Osorsen, making one eye seem almost comically larger than the other as he heard the man's macabre acknowledgement of impending death. Particularly at the hand of the Pharaoh. Hearing the nonchalance of the Sirdar's comment while his own body remained bruised and hidden away led him to murmur under his breath, "Faith is not what I would call it."
Catching himself before his mood turned, Zoser took a deep swill from his goblet and smacked a sigh as the tannins of the wine pleasantly stung the roof of his mouth. He set the goblet down with a sturdy clank onto a nearby wooden table and crossed towards the shelves where the accounts were shelved. This trip could indeed be a quick one if needed. His stays in Thebes were hardly ever extensive and often looked much like the current moment when he did come by and they were both present.
A decade ago, this would have been unthinkable. There were only three alive who knew of his connection to the family, and Zoser had every intention of keeping it that way. Osorsen the younger had not taken well to learning of his father's creation of a bastard, especially now one that had no choice but to be involved in the affairs. Tensions from early on had faded into familiarity which in turn had slowly morphed into a comfortable coexistence. While they knew of each other as family, they more importantly knew that there was a trust to be laid in one another, particularly if to survive the trials of life as Egyptian courtiers.
Zoser set the edge of the ledger down onto the desktop, one eye squinting as he tried to find the best way to lean forward without agitating his ribs - advice given by the Palace healer after the 'incident' when he looked up a bit suddenly at the General's comment.
"Really? Rejected by who?" Zoser asked, startled and impressed by the initiative taken to reach out in such a way, then humming an apologetic tone as he revealed the truth behind his reasoning. " Ah, a shame. Such a binding could have put a halt to this entire ordeal. It could have saved countless resources and significant coin..." Zoser paused and added with a slight smirk, "And kept you preoccupied, with the added benefit of keeping Hei Moghadam going before running off to find the nearest spear in your chest."
Zoser teased, knowing the darker humor of the other particularly when it came to talk of war. Conflict was not Zoser's strong suit, but appeasing and appealing to others, offering some sort of congeniality and conversation, that he could handle. With his eyes on the ledgers, his forefinger dragging over the lines as his mind did some quick scanning to find nothing amiss, he crooned an almost amused tone, humor dripping in the shadows of it despite the almost preoccupied sound of the words, "She must have been some sort of a woman for you to send such a request. Do you want to talk about her?"
There was a smile and a smirk behind his voice, and he took a moment before glancing up to Osorsen. The man was not much for talking about such things, but they each had some wine in them and the ledgers would take quite a while.
It had been a decade by now. They could just about admit to enjoying each others company at this point.
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Zoser raised a single brow as he glanced back to Osorsen, making one eye seem almost comically larger than the other as he heard the man's macabre acknowledgement of impending death. Particularly at the hand of the Pharaoh. Hearing the nonchalance of the Sirdar's comment while his own body remained bruised and hidden away led him to murmur under his breath, "Faith is not what I would call it."
Catching himself before his mood turned, Zoser took a deep swill from his goblet and smacked a sigh as the tannins of the wine pleasantly stung the roof of his mouth. He set the goblet down with a sturdy clank onto a nearby wooden table and crossed towards the shelves where the accounts were shelved. This trip could indeed be a quick one if needed. His stays in Thebes were hardly ever extensive and often looked much like the current moment when he did come by and they were both present.
A decade ago, this would have been unthinkable. There were only three alive who knew of his connection to the family, and Zoser had every intention of keeping it that way. Osorsen the younger had not taken well to learning of his father's creation of a bastard, especially now one that had no choice but to be involved in the affairs. Tensions from early on had faded into familiarity which in turn had slowly morphed into a comfortable coexistence. While they knew of each other as family, they more importantly knew that there was a trust to be laid in one another, particularly if to survive the trials of life as Egyptian courtiers.
Zoser set the edge of the ledger down onto the desktop, one eye squinting as he tried to find the best way to lean forward without agitating his ribs - advice given by the Palace healer after the 'incident' when he looked up a bit suddenly at the General's comment.
"Really? Rejected by who?" Zoser asked, startled and impressed by the initiative taken to reach out in such a way, then humming an apologetic tone as he revealed the truth behind his reasoning. " Ah, a shame. Such a binding could have put a halt to this entire ordeal. It could have saved countless resources and significant coin..." Zoser paused and added with a slight smirk, "And kept you preoccupied, with the added benefit of keeping Hei Moghadam going before running off to find the nearest spear in your chest."
Zoser teased, knowing the darker humor of the other particularly when it came to talk of war. Conflict was not Zoser's strong suit, but appeasing and appealing to others, offering some sort of congeniality and conversation, that he could handle. With his eyes on the ledgers, his forefinger dragging over the lines as his mind did some quick scanning to find nothing amiss, he crooned an almost amused tone, humor dripping in the shadows of it despite the almost preoccupied sound of the words, "She must have been some sort of a woman for you to send such a request. Do you want to talk about her?"
There was a smile and a smirk behind his voice, and he took a moment before glancing up to Osorsen. The man was not much for talking about such things, but they each had some wine in them and the ledgers would take quite a while.
It had been a decade by now. They could just about admit to enjoying each others company at this point.
Zoser raised a single brow as he glanced back to Osorsen, making one eye seem almost comically larger than the other as he heard the man's macabre acknowledgement of impending death. Particularly at the hand of the Pharaoh. Hearing the nonchalance of the Sirdar's comment while his own body remained bruised and hidden away led him to murmur under his breath, "Faith is not what I would call it."
Catching himself before his mood turned, Zoser took a deep swill from his goblet and smacked a sigh as the tannins of the wine pleasantly stung the roof of his mouth. He set the goblet down with a sturdy clank onto a nearby wooden table and crossed towards the shelves where the accounts were shelved. This trip could indeed be a quick one if needed. His stays in Thebes were hardly ever extensive and often looked much like the current moment when he did come by and they were both present.
A decade ago, this would have been unthinkable. There were only three alive who knew of his connection to the family, and Zoser had every intention of keeping it that way. Osorsen the younger had not taken well to learning of his father's creation of a bastard, especially now one that had no choice but to be involved in the affairs. Tensions from early on had faded into familiarity which in turn had slowly morphed into a comfortable coexistence. While they knew of each other as family, they more importantly knew that there was a trust to be laid in one another, particularly if to survive the trials of life as Egyptian courtiers.
Zoser set the edge of the ledger down onto the desktop, one eye squinting as he tried to find the best way to lean forward without agitating his ribs - advice given by the Palace healer after the 'incident' when he looked up a bit suddenly at the General's comment.
"Really? Rejected by who?" Zoser asked, startled and impressed by the initiative taken to reach out in such a way, then humming an apologetic tone as he revealed the truth behind his reasoning. " Ah, a shame. Such a binding could have put a halt to this entire ordeal. It could have saved countless resources and significant coin..." Zoser paused and added with a slight smirk, "And kept you preoccupied, with the added benefit of keeping Hei Moghadam going before running off to find the nearest spear in your chest."
Zoser teased, knowing the darker humor of the other particularly when it came to talk of war. Conflict was not Zoser's strong suit, but appeasing and appealing to others, offering some sort of congeniality and conversation, that he could handle. With his eyes on the ledgers, his forefinger dragging over the lines as his mind did some quick scanning to find nothing amiss, he crooned an almost amused tone, humor dripping in the shadows of it despite the almost preoccupied sound of the words, "She must have been some sort of a woman for you to send such a request. Do you want to talk about her?"
There was a smile and a smirk behind his voice, and he took a moment before glancing up to Osorsen. The man was not much for talking about such things, but they each had some wine in them and the ledgers would take quite a while.
It had been a decade by now. They could just about admit to enjoying each others company at this point.
"Why are you fidgeting so? Have you been fighting?"
He'd been observing the movements of his uncle as the older man looked over the ledgers, and Osorsen's eyes were narrow with suspicion. Zoser hated fighting, would hardly ever spar with him when he'd asked in his youth, and yet now he was behaving like every green soldier he'd seen during the first few months of training, as if every bit of their body ached. If Zoser had been training with someone else he would have to find a way to put his jealousy aside. He was too old to want a father figure anyway, it wasn't as if he hadn't had one in his grandfather, but he couldn't ask the old man for advice or help any longer. The old general hadn't even known Oso had asked for a woman's hand in marriage.
The response to the news of his failed attempt at marriage was what he'd expected, and he gave a shrug, trying to keep the scowl off his face at the thought of Selene marrying Vangelis of Kotas. Why she would want someone like him he would never know, unless his impressions of her had been sorely mistaken and she enjoyed a lack of personality. "A Greek woman. I met her in Taengea. Sister-in-law to the queen. Well. Former queen."
Osorsen sighed, finishing his wine and reaching for the bottle to take another. It was humiliating to admit that he'd been rejected, and he'd been prepared for the teasing, but it certainly wasn't helping his mood to recall that he had now lost the only two women he'd ever considered marrying to enemies. "I offered her uncle my support should things come down to a war. And he still denied me. She's to be wed to that Kotas prince. The one who looks like he's got a bad taste in his mouth and at least three spears up his arse at all times." Well if he'd ever had an intent of hiding his business from his uncle that had gone well and truly out the window. His confidence in Zoser was at an all time high since the marriage of Hatshepsut and the common man.
"Perhaps I'm not destined to marry. We could always draft papers to have you legitimized instead, I'd been planning to do that when Hatshepsut and I....but I can't grant you your own holdings now. Except to make you my heir." So many plans to lift up his family, ensure the stability of the crown and country. They had desired so much and now he had nothing. No wife, no crown, no prospects but war and more war until he died.
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"Why are you fidgeting so? Have you been fighting?"
He'd been observing the movements of his uncle as the older man looked over the ledgers, and Osorsen's eyes were narrow with suspicion. Zoser hated fighting, would hardly ever spar with him when he'd asked in his youth, and yet now he was behaving like every green soldier he'd seen during the first few months of training, as if every bit of their body ached. If Zoser had been training with someone else he would have to find a way to put his jealousy aside. He was too old to want a father figure anyway, it wasn't as if he hadn't had one in his grandfather, but he couldn't ask the old man for advice or help any longer. The old general hadn't even known Oso had asked for a woman's hand in marriage.
The response to the news of his failed attempt at marriage was what he'd expected, and he gave a shrug, trying to keep the scowl off his face at the thought of Selene marrying Vangelis of Kotas. Why she would want someone like him he would never know, unless his impressions of her had been sorely mistaken and she enjoyed a lack of personality. "A Greek woman. I met her in Taengea. Sister-in-law to the queen. Well. Former queen."
Osorsen sighed, finishing his wine and reaching for the bottle to take another. It was humiliating to admit that he'd been rejected, and he'd been prepared for the teasing, but it certainly wasn't helping his mood to recall that he had now lost the only two women he'd ever considered marrying to enemies. "I offered her uncle my support should things come down to a war. And he still denied me. She's to be wed to that Kotas prince. The one who looks like he's got a bad taste in his mouth and at least three spears up his arse at all times." Well if he'd ever had an intent of hiding his business from his uncle that had gone well and truly out the window. His confidence in Zoser was at an all time high since the marriage of Hatshepsut and the common man.
"Perhaps I'm not destined to marry. We could always draft papers to have you legitimized instead, I'd been planning to do that when Hatshepsut and I....but I can't grant you your own holdings now. Except to make you my heir." So many plans to lift up his family, ensure the stability of the crown and country. They had desired so much and now he had nothing. No wife, no crown, no prospects but war and more war until he died.
"Why are you fidgeting so? Have you been fighting?"
He'd been observing the movements of his uncle as the older man looked over the ledgers, and Osorsen's eyes were narrow with suspicion. Zoser hated fighting, would hardly ever spar with him when he'd asked in his youth, and yet now he was behaving like every green soldier he'd seen during the first few months of training, as if every bit of their body ached. If Zoser had been training with someone else he would have to find a way to put his jealousy aside. He was too old to want a father figure anyway, it wasn't as if he hadn't had one in his grandfather, but he couldn't ask the old man for advice or help any longer. The old general hadn't even known Oso had asked for a woman's hand in marriage.
The response to the news of his failed attempt at marriage was what he'd expected, and he gave a shrug, trying to keep the scowl off his face at the thought of Selene marrying Vangelis of Kotas. Why she would want someone like him he would never know, unless his impressions of her had been sorely mistaken and she enjoyed a lack of personality. "A Greek woman. I met her in Taengea. Sister-in-law to the queen. Well. Former queen."
Osorsen sighed, finishing his wine and reaching for the bottle to take another. It was humiliating to admit that he'd been rejected, and he'd been prepared for the teasing, but it certainly wasn't helping his mood to recall that he had now lost the only two women he'd ever considered marrying to enemies. "I offered her uncle my support should things come down to a war. And he still denied me. She's to be wed to that Kotas prince. The one who looks like he's got a bad taste in his mouth and at least three spears up his arse at all times." Well if he'd ever had an intent of hiding his business from his uncle that had gone well and truly out the window. His confidence in Zoser was at an all time high since the marriage of Hatshepsut and the common man.
"Perhaps I'm not destined to marry. We could always draft papers to have you legitimized instead, I'd been planning to do that when Hatshepsut and I....but I can't grant you your own holdings now. Except to make you my heir." So many plans to lift up his family, ensure the stability of the crown and country. They had desired so much and now he had nothing. No wife, no crown, no prospects but war and more war until he died.
Zoser's eyes snapped up at Osorsen's comment about his fidgeting, and the question.
"I would not exactly call it 'fighting' so much as I would call it 'ending up on the wrong end of a boot when my mouth gets me into trouble', which should hardly come as a surprise to anyone these days," Zoser pointed out, purposefully giving few details. Osorsen knew that Zoser occasionally found himself in gambling rings and opium dens when offered a bit of freedom, particularly if Khufu was at his side. They were notorious in the lower levels of Cairo for getting into something. Zoser liked to believe it kept him young.
Teasingly raising a finger towards Osorsen, he put on a mock fatherly tone and wagged it at him, "I am not one to usually give advice, but allow me to speak from experience when I say...the older you get, the harder it gets to recover from such things. It will happen to you, too, eventually. Hopefully not before this war is done."
Zoser's expression dissolved back into its smug humor, deflecting any more conversation on the matter of his wellbeing. If he had been smarter, he would have just said 'yes' and moved on but that was most unlike him. Why say only a few words when he could let them pour out of him and deter further questions? Most people did, eventually, crave his silence. He liked it that way, at times.
A mischievous laugh bubbled in his chest as Osorsen described the woman of interest to him, thoroughly amused and surprised by the fact that he would even consider a Greek. That was always more of Zoser's type. Hearing the young man continue on about the refusal, Zoser made the appropriate hums and scoffs throughout.
"Well, that is a shame, indeed. There are other options in the Greek Kingdoms, though," Zoser mused, leaving the ledgers open on the desk and finding this conversation far more interesting than what he knew were likely pristine records. "In Athenia, there are at least two royal daughters, as well as several other houses. Some of my older pupils will likely have eligible daughters. Perhaps, looking away from Taengea and towards Athenia would help. Then again, we both know of my bias." Zoser's mind began to flash across faces and names, his eyes unfocused in thought for a moment as he tried to do some quick calculations with rough ages.
All of that fell to the wayside at Osorsen's next words, which left Zoser staring at him as if the man had suddenly burst out into speaking a foreign tongue. Frozen in place, his brows knit together and his mouth open like a codfish, it took him blinking a few times to come back to life.
"I'm sorry, I do not think I heard you correctly. Probably from the blow to the head," Zoser said, once again leaning hard on humor to cover his surprise. For nearly a decade, Zoser thought he had done a good job of hiding his jealousy and desire for acceptance into his Father's house. In his wildest dreams, he imagined perhaps some deathbed confession and order to legitimize him, but despite his failing health, it did seem as though the elder General would never actually die, not that Zoser willed it.
His eyes leveled with Osorsen's as he asked, "You would do that?"
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Zoser's eyes snapped up at Osorsen's comment about his fidgeting, and the question.
"I would not exactly call it 'fighting' so much as I would call it 'ending up on the wrong end of a boot when my mouth gets me into trouble', which should hardly come as a surprise to anyone these days," Zoser pointed out, purposefully giving few details. Osorsen knew that Zoser occasionally found himself in gambling rings and opium dens when offered a bit of freedom, particularly if Khufu was at his side. They were notorious in the lower levels of Cairo for getting into something. Zoser liked to believe it kept him young.
Teasingly raising a finger towards Osorsen, he put on a mock fatherly tone and wagged it at him, "I am not one to usually give advice, but allow me to speak from experience when I say...the older you get, the harder it gets to recover from such things. It will happen to you, too, eventually. Hopefully not before this war is done."
Zoser's expression dissolved back into its smug humor, deflecting any more conversation on the matter of his wellbeing. If he had been smarter, he would have just said 'yes' and moved on but that was most unlike him. Why say only a few words when he could let them pour out of him and deter further questions? Most people did, eventually, crave his silence. He liked it that way, at times.
A mischievous laugh bubbled in his chest as Osorsen described the woman of interest to him, thoroughly amused and surprised by the fact that he would even consider a Greek. That was always more of Zoser's type. Hearing the young man continue on about the refusal, Zoser made the appropriate hums and scoffs throughout.
"Well, that is a shame, indeed. There are other options in the Greek Kingdoms, though," Zoser mused, leaving the ledgers open on the desk and finding this conversation far more interesting than what he knew were likely pristine records. "In Athenia, there are at least two royal daughters, as well as several other houses. Some of my older pupils will likely have eligible daughters. Perhaps, looking away from Taengea and towards Athenia would help. Then again, we both know of my bias." Zoser's mind began to flash across faces and names, his eyes unfocused in thought for a moment as he tried to do some quick calculations with rough ages.
All of that fell to the wayside at Osorsen's next words, which left Zoser staring at him as if the man had suddenly burst out into speaking a foreign tongue. Frozen in place, his brows knit together and his mouth open like a codfish, it took him blinking a few times to come back to life.
"I'm sorry, I do not think I heard you correctly. Probably from the blow to the head," Zoser said, once again leaning hard on humor to cover his surprise. For nearly a decade, Zoser thought he had done a good job of hiding his jealousy and desire for acceptance into his Father's house. In his wildest dreams, he imagined perhaps some deathbed confession and order to legitimize him, but despite his failing health, it did seem as though the elder General would never actually die, not that Zoser willed it.
His eyes leveled with Osorsen's as he asked, "You would do that?"
Zoser's eyes snapped up at Osorsen's comment about his fidgeting, and the question.
"I would not exactly call it 'fighting' so much as I would call it 'ending up on the wrong end of a boot when my mouth gets me into trouble', which should hardly come as a surprise to anyone these days," Zoser pointed out, purposefully giving few details. Osorsen knew that Zoser occasionally found himself in gambling rings and opium dens when offered a bit of freedom, particularly if Khufu was at his side. They were notorious in the lower levels of Cairo for getting into something. Zoser liked to believe it kept him young.
Teasingly raising a finger towards Osorsen, he put on a mock fatherly tone and wagged it at him, "I am not one to usually give advice, but allow me to speak from experience when I say...the older you get, the harder it gets to recover from such things. It will happen to you, too, eventually. Hopefully not before this war is done."
Zoser's expression dissolved back into its smug humor, deflecting any more conversation on the matter of his wellbeing. If he had been smarter, he would have just said 'yes' and moved on but that was most unlike him. Why say only a few words when he could let them pour out of him and deter further questions? Most people did, eventually, crave his silence. He liked it that way, at times.
A mischievous laugh bubbled in his chest as Osorsen described the woman of interest to him, thoroughly amused and surprised by the fact that he would even consider a Greek. That was always more of Zoser's type. Hearing the young man continue on about the refusal, Zoser made the appropriate hums and scoffs throughout.
"Well, that is a shame, indeed. There are other options in the Greek Kingdoms, though," Zoser mused, leaving the ledgers open on the desk and finding this conversation far more interesting than what he knew were likely pristine records. "In Athenia, there are at least two royal daughters, as well as several other houses. Some of my older pupils will likely have eligible daughters. Perhaps, looking away from Taengea and towards Athenia would help. Then again, we both know of my bias." Zoser's mind began to flash across faces and names, his eyes unfocused in thought for a moment as he tried to do some quick calculations with rough ages.
All of that fell to the wayside at Osorsen's next words, which left Zoser staring at him as if the man had suddenly burst out into speaking a foreign tongue. Frozen in place, his brows knit together and his mouth open like a codfish, it took him blinking a few times to come back to life.
"I'm sorry, I do not think I heard you correctly. Probably from the blow to the head," Zoser said, once again leaning hard on humor to cover his surprise. For nearly a decade, Zoser thought he had done a good job of hiding his jealousy and desire for acceptance into his Father's house. In his wildest dreams, he imagined perhaps some deathbed confession and order to legitimize him, but despite his failing health, it did seem as though the elder General would never actually die, not that Zoser willed it.
His eyes leveled with Osorsen's as he asked, "You would do that?"
Dark eyes narrowed at the way his uncle tried dodging his question, the efforts of humor to hide his obvious discomfort lost on the nephew who had spent the last decade getting to know him. If it was something Khufu had gotten him mixed up in, he had words for the other man, but if it was something more sinister than no doubt his uncle was trying to protect them both from the foolish thing Osorsen would do if he discovered abuse of his family. If the common man had dared to think he could harm someone of noble blood it would be yet another straw added to the camel's back of his tolerance. Iahotep's realization that Zoser was of better stock than he would be a revelation that the younger man would savor before removing the bastard's head from his body.
"I won't ask further about it. But should anyone harm you again there will be consequences."
He spoke as if it was something that could be accomplished with little trouble, and meant it entirely. If he had to go through all of the soldiers and nobles to make good on his threat, he would do it happily. He had enough men that an attack would be doable, the only thing holding him back was the support that was necessary from the other nobility. It would be easier to wait until the child was born. If it was born. A daughter would pose no threat to his sons, but a boy child would need to be removed without remorse. He would get his prize, regain what had been his and would always be his.
The suggestion of other Greek girls to be married was met with a disgusted wave of his hand. It hadn't been the Greek aspect of Selene that had prompted his offer, it was the feeling she gave him. A whole human who held the most unearthly beauty he had ever witnessed. Not someone vapid and easily swayed, someone with her own thoughts, opinions and skill with horseflesh. He had only spoken to her for a few hours at the most, and she had not strayed far from his mind since his departure. No one else had held him like that since he had finally given in to his feelings with Hatshepsut. If it was to be such a rare occurrence he had no desire to simply import the next best Greek. It could be found here in Egypt.
"No, she was something rare. Her people say she is blessed by their goddess of beauty, I haven't seen anyone like her in my life. Your Athenian women have always sounded so....boring. They'd wilt in our style of life. And in any case, grandfather would rather I marry a H'Isazari or something like that." Osorsen finished his glass of wine and filled it once more, ignoring his uncle's shock.
Surely it couldn't be a surprise to the older man that before he left for war, the baron wouldn't set up some sort of provision for their house. After all, such a thing had befallen the dowager bitch's house, and he would not allow his family to be plagued. Not with something that had caused the end of his happiness. Before he left he intended to give Rafa the papers, signed and officiated as was necessary. If he perished on the field of battle, Zoser would assume his role and become the defacto head of house for H'Moghadam.
"Hatshepsut and I had intended to thank you for your support and care of us both." Osorsen stood, leaving his glass of wine behind as he approached his uncle. "When I became pharaoh on marrying her, you were to be legitimized and given Hei Moghadam as your own." His hands landed on his uncle's shoulders now, feeling for any muscles, joints, or bones out of place, still concerned for the injuries he was trying to hide. "I have left the documents behind already. If I fall in this war, you will inherit everything." With a grip that was perhaps tighter than necessary as he stood over the older man, he tried to keep the venom from his voice as he stared absently overhead.
"If you help me destroy him, I would reward you beyond all imagination. Help me get what should be mine and you will have your library, your university, the Hei, everything you wish for will be yours."
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Dark eyes narrowed at the way his uncle tried dodging his question, the efforts of humor to hide his obvious discomfort lost on the nephew who had spent the last decade getting to know him. If it was something Khufu had gotten him mixed up in, he had words for the other man, but if it was something more sinister than no doubt his uncle was trying to protect them both from the foolish thing Osorsen would do if he discovered abuse of his family. If the common man had dared to think he could harm someone of noble blood it would be yet another straw added to the camel's back of his tolerance. Iahotep's realization that Zoser was of better stock than he would be a revelation that the younger man would savor before removing the bastard's head from his body.
"I won't ask further about it. But should anyone harm you again there will be consequences."
He spoke as if it was something that could be accomplished with little trouble, and meant it entirely. If he had to go through all of the soldiers and nobles to make good on his threat, he would do it happily. He had enough men that an attack would be doable, the only thing holding him back was the support that was necessary from the other nobility. It would be easier to wait until the child was born. If it was born. A daughter would pose no threat to his sons, but a boy child would need to be removed without remorse. He would get his prize, regain what had been his and would always be his.
The suggestion of other Greek girls to be married was met with a disgusted wave of his hand. It hadn't been the Greek aspect of Selene that had prompted his offer, it was the feeling she gave him. A whole human who held the most unearthly beauty he had ever witnessed. Not someone vapid and easily swayed, someone with her own thoughts, opinions and skill with horseflesh. He had only spoken to her for a few hours at the most, and she had not strayed far from his mind since his departure. No one else had held him like that since he had finally given in to his feelings with Hatshepsut. If it was to be such a rare occurrence he had no desire to simply import the next best Greek. It could be found here in Egypt.
"No, she was something rare. Her people say she is blessed by their goddess of beauty, I haven't seen anyone like her in my life. Your Athenian women have always sounded so....boring. They'd wilt in our style of life. And in any case, grandfather would rather I marry a H'Isazari or something like that." Osorsen finished his glass of wine and filled it once more, ignoring his uncle's shock.
Surely it couldn't be a surprise to the older man that before he left for war, the baron wouldn't set up some sort of provision for their house. After all, such a thing had befallen the dowager bitch's house, and he would not allow his family to be plagued. Not with something that had caused the end of his happiness. Before he left he intended to give Rafa the papers, signed and officiated as was necessary. If he perished on the field of battle, Zoser would assume his role and become the defacto head of house for H'Moghadam.
"Hatshepsut and I had intended to thank you for your support and care of us both." Osorsen stood, leaving his glass of wine behind as he approached his uncle. "When I became pharaoh on marrying her, you were to be legitimized and given Hei Moghadam as your own." His hands landed on his uncle's shoulders now, feeling for any muscles, joints, or bones out of place, still concerned for the injuries he was trying to hide. "I have left the documents behind already. If I fall in this war, you will inherit everything." With a grip that was perhaps tighter than necessary as he stood over the older man, he tried to keep the venom from his voice as he stared absently overhead.
"If you help me destroy him, I would reward you beyond all imagination. Help me get what should be mine and you will have your library, your university, the Hei, everything you wish for will be yours."
Dark eyes narrowed at the way his uncle tried dodging his question, the efforts of humor to hide his obvious discomfort lost on the nephew who had spent the last decade getting to know him. If it was something Khufu had gotten him mixed up in, he had words for the other man, but if it was something more sinister than no doubt his uncle was trying to protect them both from the foolish thing Osorsen would do if he discovered abuse of his family. If the common man had dared to think he could harm someone of noble blood it would be yet another straw added to the camel's back of his tolerance. Iahotep's realization that Zoser was of better stock than he would be a revelation that the younger man would savor before removing the bastard's head from his body.
"I won't ask further about it. But should anyone harm you again there will be consequences."
He spoke as if it was something that could be accomplished with little trouble, and meant it entirely. If he had to go through all of the soldiers and nobles to make good on his threat, he would do it happily. He had enough men that an attack would be doable, the only thing holding him back was the support that was necessary from the other nobility. It would be easier to wait until the child was born. If it was born. A daughter would pose no threat to his sons, but a boy child would need to be removed without remorse. He would get his prize, regain what had been his and would always be his.
The suggestion of other Greek girls to be married was met with a disgusted wave of his hand. It hadn't been the Greek aspect of Selene that had prompted his offer, it was the feeling she gave him. A whole human who held the most unearthly beauty he had ever witnessed. Not someone vapid and easily swayed, someone with her own thoughts, opinions and skill with horseflesh. He had only spoken to her for a few hours at the most, and she had not strayed far from his mind since his departure. No one else had held him like that since he had finally given in to his feelings with Hatshepsut. If it was to be such a rare occurrence he had no desire to simply import the next best Greek. It could be found here in Egypt.
"No, she was something rare. Her people say she is blessed by their goddess of beauty, I haven't seen anyone like her in my life. Your Athenian women have always sounded so....boring. They'd wilt in our style of life. And in any case, grandfather would rather I marry a H'Isazari or something like that." Osorsen finished his glass of wine and filled it once more, ignoring his uncle's shock.
Surely it couldn't be a surprise to the older man that before he left for war, the baron wouldn't set up some sort of provision for their house. After all, such a thing had befallen the dowager bitch's house, and he would not allow his family to be plagued. Not with something that had caused the end of his happiness. Before he left he intended to give Rafa the papers, signed and officiated as was necessary. If he perished on the field of battle, Zoser would assume his role and become the defacto head of house for H'Moghadam.
"Hatshepsut and I had intended to thank you for your support and care of us both." Osorsen stood, leaving his glass of wine behind as he approached his uncle. "When I became pharaoh on marrying her, you were to be legitimized and given Hei Moghadam as your own." His hands landed on his uncle's shoulders now, feeling for any muscles, joints, or bones out of place, still concerned for the injuries he was trying to hide. "I have left the documents behind already. If I fall in this war, you will inherit everything." With a grip that was perhaps tighter than necessary as he stood over the older man, he tried to keep the venom from his voice as he stared absently overhead.
"If you help me destroy him, I would reward you beyond all imagination. Help me get what should be mine and you will have your library, your university, the Hei, everything you wish for will be yours."
Zoser could not help the smirk that formed as Osorsen relieved them both of talking about the causes for the elder's discomfort. If this had been a few years back, there was no doubt in his mind that the young Sirdar would press the issue further, but age had calmed Osorsen over time. The irony was not lost on him when his thoughts drifted to their own, violent first meeting. Time changed things.
At Osorsen's dismissive hand to his suggestion, Zoser raised his brows slightly and shrugged, his fingers returning to the work of selecting the appropriate parchments and records that would need review. If the discovery of missing gold was recent, then it would only be the documents from the past several months to a year, perhaps two, that would be under review - all of which he had laid eyes on in passing, but they could all do with a secondary review, just in case.
Zoser listened, silently pulling a face at his nephew's assessment of Athenian women he had never met. Different preferences, of course, but he did know of how the Greek gods were believed to bestow blessings upon their people, ensnaring their minds (and their wagging, gossiping tongues) to bend even the strongest of men - like Osorsen - to their will. Was this Selene one of those women?
Or a witch...
Regardless, to see his nephew feel so strongly and for the first time truly consider a marriage prospect, even to the point of writing a missive to a foreign Head of House to ask, she must have been quite the woman...
The thought of Neithotep entered his mind and disappeared just as quickly when the shock of the conversation shift hit him.
There was no doubt that everything Osorsen said, he would follow through on - especially at the mention of Hatshepsut in the planning. A swipe of sentimentality spread through his chest and even caused a flicker of a smile to one corner of his lips. That...truly meant there was a chance.
But, for that chance to occur...it would mean Osorsen's fall, which Zoser flat out refused to let cross his mind. Not now. If not for his own sake, then for Hatshepsut's.
With his nephew's hands on his shoulders, he knew that he meant it. He also knew that there was no stopping the young man when he set his mind to something. Like a true Egyptian General, the idea of failure, defeat, or denial were not considered options until they were actually nose-to-nose with him...which was a primary concern now that he had rage against Iahotep boiling in his blood.
Zoser's expression shifted as he heard Osorsen out, and his brows leveled slightly. Always a skeptical man, etchings of puzzlement tightened ever so slightly around his eyes. There was always a catch, in his experience.
His head turned as the general's tone shifted. There it was.
Kill Iahotep.
They were quiet for a moment, before Zoser closed the ledger before him to catch Osorsen's eyes, his own level. He measured the man who stood before him, the vitriol and betrayal of his circumstances flowing from every pour and seeping into each sun-weathered crease on his face.
"In time," Zoser said, both an agreement and a warning in his tone as he nodded, placing a hand in return on his nephew's shoulder. Of course, he would prefer Osorsen to be in Iahotep's stead. It was what he had seen and intended all along. By all means, the commonborn man turned god ruffled more than a few feathers. After all, knowing what the Pharaoh had done not only to his own person but to others that he cared for deeply...he was far from opposed to the idea.
He thought of Neithotep again, as if her quiet bare feet were walking across the very room they were in.
If Zoser were legitimized, if he helped raise Osorsen to his rightful place as Pharaoh, if he removed the usurper from the Palace, it opened more than just doors for him...but entire worlds. As a noble, he could wed who he wished...including Neithotep. Thoughts of her raced around his mind, flurrying like the sheer fabrics of the court dancers, distracting even.
The only two ways for him to gain such a position to do so would be if he stood by Osorosen's side in this plot....or if Osorsen died on the field of battle.
Really, there was only one option.
"If we are to do this, it cannot be done brashly," Zoser murmured, his tone low and dark - darker than Osorsen would have ever heard from him before, "You would have to remain entirely above reproach in this in order to marry the Evening Star when he is gone. That means no stray arrows on the field of battle out of convenience." It was a firm 'no' on that as he was certain that very thought or others similar had crossed the Sirdar's mind.
"He has too many loyal to him in the Palace now, either through fear or purchase. He knows no bounds when trying to find and exploit a weakness. But...with that, he will have weaknesses of his own." Zoser's lip curled up in a slight snarl, a trait that if all three living Moghadam men had been lined up beside one another would have given them away long ago. He practically spat out, "He may be a god now, but he is still a man of common blood behind it all - but a powerful and ruthless one at that."
Taking in a deep breath and blowing it back out through his nose, Zoser's eyes wandered about the room, the furthest corners of his mind coveting every stone that built the saraaya. He wanted this, not only for himself, but also for the woman he loved. For that, he would do anything now.
"I will find a way," Zoser swore, his eyes away from Osorsen for a moment before swinging them back to him. "I am charged to stand close to the Queen throughout this war, and that I shall. I charge you...to try to be reasonable and measured in battle. You must think beyond the iron and blood if we are to succeed in this."
Zoser raised his brows to his nephew, accustomed to this tone as an Advisor above all else. Yet, within that, there was the deeper loyalty that came with their shared blood....and now the promise of the spoils that could come with their success.
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Zoser could not help the smirk that formed as Osorsen relieved them both of talking about the causes for the elder's discomfort. If this had been a few years back, there was no doubt in his mind that the young Sirdar would press the issue further, but age had calmed Osorsen over time. The irony was not lost on him when his thoughts drifted to their own, violent first meeting. Time changed things.
At Osorsen's dismissive hand to his suggestion, Zoser raised his brows slightly and shrugged, his fingers returning to the work of selecting the appropriate parchments and records that would need review. If the discovery of missing gold was recent, then it would only be the documents from the past several months to a year, perhaps two, that would be under review - all of which he had laid eyes on in passing, but they could all do with a secondary review, just in case.
Zoser listened, silently pulling a face at his nephew's assessment of Athenian women he had never met. Different preferences, of course, but he did know of how the Greek gods were believed to bestow blessings upon their people, ensnaring their minds (and their wagging, gossiping tongues) to bend even the strongest of men - like Osorsen - to their will. Was this Selene one of those women?
Or a witch...
Regardless, to see his nephew feel so strongly and for the first time truly consider a marriage prospect, even to the point of writing a missive to a foreign Head of House to ask, she must have been quite the woman...
The thought of Neithotep entered his mind and disappeared just as quickly when the shock of the conversation shift hit him.
There was no doubt that everything Osorsen said, he would follow through on - especially at the mention of Hatshepsut in the planning. A swipe of sentimentality spread through his chest and even caused a flicker of a smile to one corner of his lips. That...truly meant there was a chance.
But, for that chance to occur...it would mean Osorsen's fall, which Zoser flat out refused to let cross his mind. Not now. If not for his own sake, then for Hatshepsut's.
With his nephew's hands on his shoulders, he knew that he meant it. He also knew that there was no stopping the young man when he set his mind to something. Like a true Egyptian General, the idea of failure, defeat, or denial were not considered options until they were actually nose-to-nose with him...which was a primary concern now that he had rage against Iahotep boiling in his blood.
Zoser's expression shifted as he heard Osorsen out, and his brows leveled slightly. Always a skeptical man, etchings of puzzlement tightened ever so slightly around his eyes. There was always a catch, in his experience.
His head turned as the general's tone shifted. There it was.
Kill Iahotep.
They were quiet for a moment, before Zoser closed the ledger before him to catch Osorsen's eyes, his own level. He measured the man who stood before him, the vitriol and betrayal of his circumstances flowing from every pour and seeping into each sun-weathered crease on his face.
"In time," Zoser said, both an agreement and a warning in his tone as he nodded, placing a hand in return on his nephew's shoulder. Of course, he would prefer Osorsen to be in Iahotep's stead. It was what he had seen and intended all along. By all means, the commonborn man turned god ruffled more than a few feathers. After all, knowing what the Pharaoh had done not only to his own person but to others that he cared for deeply...he was far from opposed to the idea.
He thought of Neithotep again, as if her quiet bare feet were walking across the very room they were in.
If Zoser were legitimized, if he helped raise Osorsen to his rightful place as Pharaoh, if he removed the usurper from the Palace, it opened more than just doors for him...but entire worlds. As a noble, he could wed who he wished...including Neithotep. Thoughts of her raced around his mind, flurrying like the sheer fabrics of the court dancers, distracting even.
The only two ways for him to gain such a position to do so would be if he stood by Osorosen's side in this plot....or if Osorsen died on the field of battle.
Really, there was only one option.
"If we are to do this, it cannot be done brashly," Zoser murmured, his tone low and dark - darker than Osorsen would have ever heard from him before, "You would have to remain entirely above reproach in this in order to marry the Evening Star when he is gone. That means no stray arrows on the field of battle out of convenience." It was a firm 'no' on that as he was certain that very thought or others similar had crossed the Sirdar's mind.
"He has too many loyal to him in the Palace now, either through fear or purchase. He knows no bounds when trying to find and exploit a weakness. But...with that, he will have weaknesses of his own." Zoser's lip curled up in a slight snarl, a trait that if all three living Moghadam men had been lined up beside one another would have given them away long ago. He practically spat out, "He may be a god now, but he is still a man of common blood behind it all - but a powerful and ruthless one at that."
Taking in a deep breath and blowing it back out through his nose, Zoser's eyes wandered about the room, the furthest corners of his mind coveting every stone that built the saraaya. He wanted this, not only for himself, but also for the woman he loved. For that, he would do anything now.
"I will find a way," Zoser swore, his eyes away from Osorsen for a moment before swinging them back to him. "I am charged to stand close to the Queen throughout this war, and that I shall. I charge you...to try to be reasonable and measured in battle. You must think beyond the iron and blood if we are to succeed in this."
Zoser raised his brows to his nephew, accustomed to this tone as an Advisor above all else. Yet, within that, there was the deeper loyalty that came with their shared blood....and now the promise of the spoils that could come with their success.
Zoser could not help the smirk that formed as Osorsen relieved them both of talking about the causes for the elder's discomfort. If this had been a few years back, there was no doubt in his mind that the young Sirdar would press the issue further, but age had calmed Osorsen over time. The irony was not lost on him when his thoughts drifted to their own, violent first meeting. Time changed things.
At Osorsen's dismissive hand to his suggestion, Zoser raised his brows slightly and shrugged, his fingers returning to the work of selecting the appropriate parchments and records that would need review. If the discovery of missing gold was recent, then it would only be the documents from the past several months to a year, perhaps two, that would be under review - all of which he had laid eyes on in passing, but they could all do with a secondary review, just in case.
Zoser listened, silently pulling a face at his nephew's assessment of Athenian women he had never met. Different preferences, of course, but he did know of how the Greek gods were believed to bestow blessings upon their people, ensnaring their minds (and their wagging, gossiping tongues) to bend even the strongest of men - like Osorsen - to their will. Was this Selene one of those women?
Or a witch...
Regardless, to see his nephew feel so strongly and for the first time truly consider a marriage prospect, even to the point of writing a missive to a foreign Head of House to ask, she must have been quite the woman...
The thought of Neithotep entered his mind and disappeared just as quickly when the shock of the conversation shift hit him.
There was no doubt that everything Osorsen said, he would follow through on - especially at the mention of Hatshepsut in the planning. A swipe of sentimentality spread through his chest and even caused a flicker of a smile to one corner of his lips. That...truly meant there was a chance.
But, for that chance to occur...it would mean Osorsen's fall, which Zoser flat out refused to let cross his mind. Not now. If not for his own sake, then for Hatshepsut's.
With his nephew's hands on his shoulders, he knew that he meant it. He also knew that there was no stopping the young man when he set his mind to something. Like a true Egyptian General, the idea of failure, defeat, or denial were not considered options until they were actually nose-to-nose with him...which was a primary concern now that he had rage against Iahotep boiling in his blood.
Zoser's expression shifted as he heard Osorsen out, and his brows leveled slightly. Always a skeptical man, etchings of puzzlement tightened ever so slightly around his eyes. There was always a catch, in his experience.
His head turned as the general's tone shifted. There it was.
Kill Iahotep.
They were quiet for a moment, before Zoser closed the ledger before him to catch Osorsen's eyes, his own level. He measured the man who stood before him, the vitriol and betrayal of his circumstances flowing from every pour and seeping into each sun-weathered crease on his face.
"In time," Zoser said, both an agreement and a warning in his tone as he nodded, placing a hand in return on his nephew's shoulder. Of course, he would prefer Osorsen to be in Iahotep's stead. It was what he had seen and intended all along. By all means, the commonborn man turned god ruffled more than a few feathers. After all, knowing what the Pharaoh had done not only to his own person but to others that he cared for deeply...he was far from opposed to the idea.
He thought of Neithotep again, as if her quiet bare feet were walking across the very room they were in.
If Zoser were legitimized, if he helped raise Osorsen to his rightful place as Pharaoh, if he removed the usurper from the Palace, it opened more than just doors for him...but entire worlds. As a noble, he could wed who he wished...including Neithotep. Thoughts of her raced around his mind, flurrying like the sheer fabrics of the court dancers, distracting even.
The only two ways for him to gain such a position to do so would be if he stood by Osorosen's side in this plot....or if Osorsen died on the field of battle.
Really, there was only one option.
"If we are to do this, it cannot be done brashly," Zoser murmured, his tone low and dark - darker than Osorsen would have ever heard from him before, "You would have to remain entirely above reproach in this in order to marry the Evening Star when he is gone. That means no stray arrows on the field of battle out of convenience." It was a firm 'no' on that as he was certain that very thought or others similar had crossed the Sirdar's mind.
"He has too many loyal to him in the Palace now, either through fear or purchase. He knows no bounds when trying to find and exploit a weakness. But...with that, he will have weaknesses of his own." Zoser's lip curled up in a slight snarl, a trait that if all three living Moghadam men had been lined up beside one another would have given them away long ago. He practically spat out, "He may be a god now, but he is still a man of common blood behind it all - but a powerful and ruthless one at that."
Taking in a deep breath and blowing it back out through his nose, Zoser's eyes wandered about the room, the furthest corners of his mind coveting every stone that built the saraaya. He wanted this, not only for himself, but also for the woman he loved. For that, he would do anything now.
"I will find a way," Zoser swore, his eyes away from Osorsen for a moment before swinging them back to him. "I am charged to stand close to the Queen throughout this war, and that I shall. I charge you...to try to be reasonable and measured in battle. You must think beyond the iron and blood if we are to succeed in this."
Zoser raised his brows to his nephew, accustomed to this tone as an Advisor above all else. Yet, within that, there was the deeper loyalty that came with their shared blood....and now the promise of the spoils that could come with their success.
"In time.
Hearing that confirmation from his uncle was the final piece in the puzzle that had kept him hesitating. Knowing where the support lay, and that he had the strength and alliance to fight it could change everything. No one was quite as clever as his uncle when it came to getting into the right position at the right time, and with Zoser at his side as an advisor the road might be long, but he could find success. The hand on his shoulder was firm, grounding, and Oso gave a solemn nod, his on gaze a level heat as he met the other's eyes in this moment. Something had begun that they would not give up easily.
Hurt had been committed to both of them by a man once considered a friend, a comrade now masquerading as a god. The betrayal of a friend and mentor hurt more than that of a lover, it would feel the same if it had been Rafa or Abrax, or Zoser himself. Someone close enough to family that his trust in them was entire. The Sirdar nodded at the warning, listening intently and keeping his own voice low. His staff was trusted, most above any sort of reproach, but he would never be so brash as to assume no one could be bought.
"When the time comes, I will keep you by my side. You will remain the most trusted advisor in my house, and I would have us both stay above reproach as you say. I could not do this without your guidance."
Though their initial meeting had not indicated that their relationship would lead to this, with such little family left in this world Oso had tested his uncle as far as was possible and found him to be the one he could trust and confide in most. Even with his place now in the household of his greatest enemy, Zoser was his blood, and he would see him raised to the glory deserved by those of Moghadam descent. He brought his hands to Zoser's cheeks, their foreheads touching as if sharing the connection of one mind as he embraced him like a brother, something he could only do now in the privacy and security of this house. Something that he would do openly as soon as he had the ability.
"If anything happens to me in the war, everything is yours. I only ask that you ensure that Mayet remains in comfort the rest of her days, she has been too patient and good for me in this." His uncle knew well enough the story of the woman Osorsen had thought once to marry, knew that the only reason the match had not already proceeded was because of the woman's birth and his grandfather's disapproval. It was good, in the end, because when they had fallen in love he had not known the strength of his feelings for Hatshepsut and how they would grow. It had left him free to marry her but now that opportunity had gone, he was considering it once again.
Waiting was turning out to be what his life entailed. Waiting for his grandfather to pass so he could take Mayet as his wife had become waiting for the decision from the council regarding the husband of Hatshepsut, had become waiting for his opportunity to strike. He could wait. He would show his patience and strength to the world, become above reproach and one day receive his prize.
"More wine, uncle?"
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"In time.
Hearing that confirmation from his uncle was the final piece in the puzzle that had kept him hesitating. Knowing where the support lay, and that he had the strength and alliance to fight it could change everything. No one was quite as clever as his uncle when it came to getting into the right position at the right time, and with Zoser at his side as an advisor the road might be long, but he could find success. The hand on his shoulder was firm, grounding, and Oso gave a solemn nod, his on gaze a level heat as he met the other's eyes in this moment. Something had begun that they would not give up easily.
Hurt had been committed to both of them by a man once considered a friend, a comrade now masquerading as a god. The betrayal of a friend and mentor hurt more than that of a lover, it would feel the same if it had been Rafa or Abrax, or Zoser himself. Someone close enough to family that his trust in them was entire. The Sirdar nodded at the warning, listening intently and keeping his own voice low. His staff was trusted, most above any sort of reproach, but he would never be so brash as to assume no one could be bought.
"When the time comes, I will keep you by my side. You will remain the most trusted advisor in my house, and I would have us both stay above reproach as you say. I could not do this without your guidance."
Though their initial meeting had not indicated that their relationship would lead to this, with such little family left in this world Oso had tested his uncle as far as was possible and found him to be the one he could trust and confide in most. Even with his place now in the household of his greatest enemy, Zoser was his blood, and he would see him raised to the glory deserved by those of Moghadam descent. He brought his hands to Zoser's cheeks, their foreheads touching as if sharing the connection of one mind as he embraced him like a brother, something he could only do now in the privacy and security of this house. Something that he would do openly as soon as he had the ability.
"If anything happens to me in the war, everything is yours. I only ask that you ensure that Mayet remains in comfort the rest of her days, she has been too patient and good for me in this." His uncle knew well enough the story of the woman Osorsen had thought once to marry, knew that the only reason the match had not already proceeded was because of the woman's birth and his grandfather's disapproval. It was good, in the end, because when they had fallen in love he had not known the strength of his feelings for Hatshepsut and how they would grow. It had left him free to marry her but now that opportunity had gone, he was considering it once again.
Waiting was turning out to be what his life entailed. Waiting for his grandfather to pass so he could take Mayet as his wife had become waiting for the decision from the council regarding the husband of Hatshepsut, had become waiting for his opportunity to strike. He could wait. He would show his patience and strength to the world, become above reproach and one day receive his prize.
"More wine, uncle?"
"In time.
Hearing that confirmation from his uncle was the final piece in the puzzle that had kept him hesitating. Knowing where the support lay, and that he had the strength and alliance to fight it could change everything. No one was quite as clever as his uncle when it came to getting into the right position at the right time, and with Zoser at his side as an advisor the road might be long, but he could find success. The hand on his shoulder was firm, grounding, and Oso gave a solemn nod, his on gaze a level heat as he met the other's eyes in this moment. Something had begun that they would not give up easily.
Hurt had been committed to both of them by a man once considered a friend, a comrade now masquerading as a god. The betrayal of a friend and mentor hurt more than that of a lover, it would feel the same if it had been Rafa or Abrax, or Zoser himself. Someone close enough to family that his trust in them was entire. The Sirdar nodded at the warning, listening intently and keeping his own voice low. His staff was trusted, most above any sort of reproach, but he would never be so brash as to assume no one could be bought.
"When the time comes, I will keep you by my side. You will remain the most trusted advisor in my house, and I would have us both stay above reproach as you say. I could not do this without your guidance."
Though their initial meeting had not indicated that their relationship would lead to this, with such little family left in this world Oso had tested his uncle as far as was possible and found him to be the one he could trust and confide in most. Even with his place now in the household of his greatest enemy, Zoser was his blood, and he would see him raised to the glory deserved by those of Moghadam descent. He brought his hands to Zoser's cheeks, their foreheads touching as if sharing the connection of one mind as he embraced him like a brother, something he could only do now in the privacy and security of this house. Something that he would do openly as soon as he had the ability.
"If anything happens to me in the war, everything is yours. I only ask that you ensure that Mayet remains in comfort the rest of her days, she has been too patient and good for me in this." His uncle knew well enough the story of the woman Osorsen had thought once to marry, knew that the only reason the match had not already proceeded was because of the woman's birth and his grandfather's disapproval. It was good, in the end, because when they had fallen in love he had not known the strength of his feelings for Hatshepsut and how they would grow. It had left him free to marry her but now that opportunity had gone, he was considering it once again.
Waiting was turning out to be what his life entailed. Waiting for his grandfather to pass so he could take Mayet as his wife had become waiting for the decision from the council regarding the husband of Hatshepsut, had become waiting for his opportunity to strike. He could wait. He would show his patience and strength to the world, become above reproach and one day receive his prize.