3 days since the command

Hammu slammed his bottle down beside the stack of tablets that lay on his desk. The gods damned moron had done it! He’d promised to enslave the population if they didn’t work hard enough! Sure, taking people off the street can be creased over, some may object or feel uncomfortable but the general populous won’t care about a few jobless faceless beggars going away. They certainly will care that they might be taken away if their foreman complains about their work ethic!

He'd have to work overtime to write propaganda for the speakers to soothe the people from that shock. Then he’d need to start organising the scribes required for planning and starting construction for the actual monument as now there were a hundred slaves waiting around in the pit doing nothing. Nothing at all just slowly growing weak off of pitiful rations and wasting what useful time they had left.

Why did he have to be the chancellor for this gods damned moron…

Well, he did know the answer to that. He’d just been the first advisor to take to the young pharaoh’s side when his father had gotten ill, inserting himself into the man’s personal circle and pushing everyone else out like a cuckoo in a nest. It was all for his own survival and the protection of his station, but sometimes he wondered to himself if it would have been better to slip away from the capital and to somewhere else in Kush. Something like a small town that he could place himself as the magistrate of and sit unnoticed to the end of his days. But the time at which he could have made that choice had long since passed into the sands of time. If only he’d known of the sensitivities that Othoe’s father’s death would create at such a young age…

Still, none of that fixed his present problems. Only a third of the Garden’s several thousand-strong construction crew was capable of working again any time soon after the rush to finish it. Then he’d need artists and more sculptures to fill the new requirements of the statue with the gardeners dismissed to make room in the budget for the newcomers. Then the slaves could probably be dispatched under guard to start levelling the ground and be used as dumb labourers hauling stone and materials to the actual workers, they’d be disposable, and it wouldn’t be worth training them.

The project would also have to go fast to keep the pharaoh’s condition manageable, any noticeable ageing might turn him into a ticking time bomb and even if he was his chief advisor, any slip and his lap dog royal guards might skewer him on command. For that sole reason, the project could not fail. Once it was up he could weave some tall tales that would keep Othoes’s mental state stable enough in the knowledge that the damned statue sat in the desert would keep his spirit alive. It might not stop some of his other horrible, horrible decisions that yet again he’d have to compensate for, but he could survive those.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

He just needed this project to work.

With his head in his hands, he flicked through the clay plates, spotting this year’s unimpressive agricultural reports. I just need to dress these up too…

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7 days since the command

“Oh, this plan is truly awe-inspiring Hammu!”

Othoes looked down from the papyrus sketches at Hammu kneeling at his throne. The smile the pharaoh bore on his face was possibly the widest one Hammu had seen in weeks and gave him enough confidence to smile as well. Partly that was to make the pharaoh more comfortable, but it was also partly borne of genuine satisfaction. He might be soothed by this after all…

“It was designed by the best artists and sculptors in your kingdom my pharaoh. They assure me the plan is perfectly achievable as well.”

Othoes nodded vigorously, “That’s excellent! Tell me, how long did they say it would take, with a full work crew?”

Hammu’s mouth grew dry, “Twenty years, my pharaoh.”

“Twenty… Years…”

He recognised that weakening voice and the mania it soon heralded. He needed to stop it now or else- He’d dread to think of it.

Hammu’s head rushed to the floor, “But those are only preliminary estimates my pharaoh! The project could most certainly be sped up with some more expert craftsmen! If you were to cut some spending and maybe allow me to sell some excess asset—”

“Why do we need to pay them?” Othoes asked calmly.

“Wha—”

He slowly raised his head, finding a creeping awful smile Othoes face as an idea clearly entered his head, a terrible, terrible idea.

“I am the pharaoh, and this is the kingdom’s most important project to date. Not even my war against the southern nomads is as important as this statue. It must be completed as soon as possible and if many hands make light of work, then those hands can be conscripted to do so if they are not willing! This project will be completed in ten years, ten years! It must be!”

His eyes had started to grow wild as his quiet calm voice grew into a rambling rant. The man was mad, he was mad and had absolute power that none of his soldiers and petty scribes questioned.

There was no way of stopping him by simply standing up to him, he’d just have to go along.

But what then? Enslaving the people on such a scale that he was suggesting, and a segment of the population used to being well treated could be disastrous and lead to a revolt! There would be no hiding from that if one was to spark. So— No… But he could do that… It would satiate them before the fires of rebellion got going but it would need planning and time to enact, maybe a little room made for revenge. The only other thing it would need would be for him to keep following the plan as normal, just like how he told himself a few weeks ago. Keep the pharaoh happy.

“Yes, my pharaoh, it will be done.”