“A little help over here?” Antholax called to Archetta, the woman on the elephant. She sighed and waved her hand. The shadows of the palm trees congealed and rose off the ground to make a troupe of men in black robes. They assisted with crowd control, helping stay the crowd who were eager to rush in.

The Pharaoh had just gestured to his head of security to kill my father. Peyat took one step and put his hands on his sword. I knew from the severed head my father was as good as dead.

“Stop!” I screamed and dove between the apparitional guard’s legs. I scurried to the forefront, hugging my father’s leg.

“Why must we have so much rabble?” The Pharaoh asked.

I stuck my tongue out at Peyat, “Don’t kill him! He's not a threat like that other guy. He’s just scared.

I looked up at my dad, my embrace centering him. His hand fell to the top of my head. And I could see in his eyes that staring down at me was causing him to come to.

“I’m sorry,” He said without looking away from me, “I’m sorry. I’ll walk off. I’m sorry for my insolence, Pharaoh. Please forgive me.”

Peyat still had his hand on his sword. He looked at both of them.

“Kill them both?”

The Pharaoh and I locked eyes. I had met gods before. Two, to be exact. I had probably had more experience with them than most people in this world. When I looked at them, they were glowing. Unearthly. They had a presence that extended beyond themselves. When I looked at the Pharaoh, I saw a man. A man. An ordinary man. A man who lucked into all this. Born to the right mommy and daddy. Born to be a winner. Given the title of God-King and now he cast judgment on all of us.

“The son, I presume?” The Pharaoh asked. He broke our eye contact.

The princep stepped in, “It’s just the porter’s son,” he said, “kill them both if you have to, your holiness. But might I suggest you leave the boy alive? It is the father who should know better. And the son will learn from this experience.”

Antholax called out to Peyat, “It’s just the porter’s son. Let him go!”

Peyat glared at Antholax. Antholax threw a smug full-faced smile at Peyat. Peyat looked at the Pharaoh, “Kill them both or just the father?”

Peyat looked down at me through his sharp nose. He crouched down and as if he was teaching me an important lesson said, “Your father disobeyed the Pharaoh, little boy. He is a god among men. Execution is a mercy.”

I stared past him, back at the Pharaoh, who was beginning to lose interest in me, “Show me.” I said.

“What?” Peyat asked, but he had heard what I said. Most of the manic crowd had begun to tune in too. Understanding that they were at the site of a potential execution. Some had even heard my act of defiance.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“You’re a god among men?” Then and there, the Pharaoh finally looked at me again. “Show me, Mr. God.”

Pharaoh Khufutu looked down at us from the steps on the head of the golem. He let out a sigh and said, “Both. Kill them both.”

Peyat smiled and placed his hand back on his sword again, “Gladly.”

I closed my eyes, ready to see Anubis again and when I opened them I was suddenly in the watchtower again.

I looked up, I was still hugging my dad’s leg, and his head was still attached to his shoulders. We patted ourselves, unsure of what happened. Fris was looking at us like he saw ghosts. He could not speak, he shakily pointed his finger to the window. My dad collapsed, probably still not sure if he was alive or dead. I went over and peered over the guardrails.

Peyat was staring confused, he’d clearly swung his sword based on his outstretched hand. Seemed that he was as surprised as us by our absence.

“Sir! If I may.” The voice came from the man on the other elephant. Shirtless except for two rings around his biceps. He had geometric tattoos covering his old body. He sat cross-legged, then without changing position, hurled himself off the elephant, where he floated down, still cross-legged. He landed on his feet. He was bald except for a pony-tail and wore flowy pants with curled shoes.

“Now neither him nor the son are in your way.”

“Sabacon,” Peyat said under his breath, “I was dealing with them,”

“I have dealt with both. Pharaoh, I beg you, do not let a child’s death weigh on my mind. It is a selfish request but I ask you to grant it. After all, he’s merely the porter’s son.”

The pharaoh let out a sigh and waved his hand. Dismissing the whole thing and went back to talking to the princep, “Let us make our way to the Diamond Palace. I grow tired of small matters.”

I looked back at my dad. His boss came and placed his hand on my dad’s back, “I’m sorry that happened. I had no idea.”

He knew. Of course he knew. Not what would happen but that if a peon went down there their life would be in danger. That was what my dad was to his boss. And he meant even less to the Pharaoh. A bump in the road and killing him was the most conservative option. Most disgusting of all, though, was what they said about me. Their words rang in my had like the clanging of church bells.

“Just a porter’s son.”

Just a porter’s son.

Just a porter’s son? Just a porter’s son?? JUST A PORTER’S SON?! I was furious. While my new father was getting his breath back I stared out at the perch one last time. I stared at Peyat. The man who almost dealt the killing blow to my father and me. His back was facing me but when I gazed long enough, he turned and stared right back up at me. He probably knew where I was the instant I was teleported by magic. We stared into each other’s eyes. Both our glares filled with disgust for the other.

“Punk-ass little fuck-ass bitch,” I murmured under my breath.

Just the porter’s son? Last lifetime I was just a basement dweller. Just a coder. Just a negligible faceless mass in the crowd. In this lifetime, I was barreling toward the same fate. If I did not take action, I would waste my new chance. For gods’ sake! I was given another chance by the gods themselves. Not the pharaoh, a charlatan. A liar! But by the big guy. Osiris. God of death and rebirth. I was given a second chance and despite the setback of my lowly status, I would make the most of this life.

Just a porter’s son. I would show them all.

I watched as the Pharaoh waved at his ants. The people who loved him no matter how many innocent fathers he killed before crawling back into his caravan as well as his head of security and the princep. The old man who saved me floated back to the top of the elephant and they went on their way. Antholax and the conjurer’s shadow army kept the crowd at bay. They all headed further into the city. To the Diamond Palace.

God. King. It made no difference. I knew what I was going to do with this life. I knew how I was going to make the most of it. The throne that the pharaoh languished on? The one he was gifted? It would be mine. I would earn the unearnable and become the ruler of this land. I would mount the Pharaoh's head on a pike.

How’s that for a porter’s son?