It was time for Horan’s nightly feast. Despite how hurriedly everyone preparing the banquet was moving, everyone would seem remarkably bored to an outside observer. After all, they had done this over a million times by now, which was not at all hyperbole.
Horan threw a lavish feast for the going-away of his mother Renan and uncle Thel from guiding his other uncle Ren across the sky every morning, without fail. He said it was to celebrate another trip to bring sunlight to humanity, but it was clear to the whole Domain that he just wanted to look like ‘that cool pharaoh who throws the best parties’.
The gates to the palace opened, and the waiting attendants took Renan and Thel’s ceremonial weapons and armour. The falcon-headed Horan welcomed the two himself, his solid blue eyes wide with joy.
“Hey, where have you two been? I was worried for a second there, you’ve been gone a while!”
Thel laughed. “Don’t be too concerned, we just made a pitstop because one of the attendants wanted to paint a nice view. Twelve hours can pass pretty quick, you know how it is.”
“Well, you’re back now, and just in time for your next feast. Hey, mom, have a nice trip yourself?”
Renan chuckled nervously. “Uh, yeah! Yeah. we were fine, it went fine! We’re fine. Same as always.”
Horan grinned calmly. “Long day, huh? Well, it’s nothing a good meal won’t fix. C’mon, the food might not be there forever.”
-
Once all the Primoi were seated by the colossal dining table and all the food was laid and drink poured, Horan stood from his throne at the head of the table, his crown posed majestically upon his head.
“Ladies and Gentlefolks, I would like to begin the toast for feast number…” He looked over at a wall on the side of the room with a massive string of archaic numerals etched onto it. An attendant magically altered the last number on the right and increased it by one.
Horan turned back. “One million, nine hundred and two thousand, six hundred and forty nine. I would like to dedicate today’s toast not only to the brave Primoi who protected Ren on his journey across the sky, but once again to our dearly departed friend Thotep, who will be avenged soon. May his soul find peace, wherever it goes, and may the one who did this pay for their crimes.”
The Primoi at the table all bowed their heads for a moment.
Horan continued after too short of a pause. “But let that not distract us from today’s festivities. Dig in!”
Thel stood up. “Actually, before we finish, I would like to propose a toast of my own. A toast to the farewell of our ex-pharaoh Horan.”
Horan looked at his uncle quizzically. “Uh, Thel, that’s a little concerning for you to say.”
Thel turned to Horan and smiled. “Oh, yes, it very much should be.”
With a poof, Thel disintegrated into sand. More sand appeared out of nowhere on the floor right next to Horan’s throne. The sand rapidly coalesced into the shape of Thel, and then gained the Primus’s colouration and texture. Almost instantaneously, Thel had transported himself across the room, something no Primus of as little power as an Egyptian should have been capable of. The hall let out a collective gasp.
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Horan took a step away from Thel, but the Primus pulled out a dagger and, in one lightning-quick motion, slashed across Horan’s face. Horan screamed and fell to the floor, a small blue orb landing a few feet away. An even deeper gasp rang out through the hall, punctuated with some screaming.
Thel walked over and picked up the orb. “Ah, this brings back memories. Time for something I’ve been waiting to do for a good five thousand years.”
Horan, missing one eye, attempted to protest, but Thel grabbed him by the throat, pushed off his crown, lifted him off the ground and threw him at the wall with such force that Horan busted clean through the sandstone and was launched out into the human realm, leaving a massive hole in the wall.
Everything that had transpired in the last few seconds resulted in the hall’s gasping being replaced almost entirely with screaming.
Thel picked up Horan’s crown from the ground, smoothed out a few creases and placed it on his head. He picked up Horan’s goblet and raised it. The hall began to quiet down in stunned terror. Thel cleared his throat. “The king is dead!”
As if on cue, the orb that had once been Horan’s eye disintegrated into a small pile of ash.
Thel smirked. “Long live the king.”
The hall remained deathly silent for what felt to all inside like an eternity. Eventually, someone stammered out a soft “Uh, s-speech?”
Thel snapped to attention. “But of course! I’d hate to ruin the moment for my loyal subjects.” He pulled out a piece of paper from seemingly nowhere, skimmed through it briefly, tossed it aside, and cleared his throat.
“You all know me. I’m your buddy Thel, Storm-slash-chaos Primus, brother of Ren and rightful heir to the throne of Egypt. Of course, I’m sure that mental image of yours has been replaced over the course of the last few millennia by that of Thel, sweet old man and the guy who tried to take over the world shortly after the dawn of human civilization but was oh-so-happily stopped by his nephew Horan, who inherited the right to rule from his father, who Thel had tragically murdered. Of course, virtually every statement in that picture of me is a lie. As such, I think it’s the perfect time to correct that falsehood.”
He strode over to a Primus sitting near the front and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tamos, old buddy old pal! Remember that one time you conjured a cobra in my bedsheets and left me paralyzed for weeks?”
“N-no? Did I do that?” murmured Tamos, quivering in his seat.
“Well, I distinctly remember you proudly boasting about it in front of me while I was still unable to speak. I can understand how it might have slipped your memory; it was back in Hatshepsut’s days. Of course, I still remember it vividly, and I’d like to repay the little prank of yours in turn.”
Without missing a beat or breaking a sweat, Thel tightened his grip. Tamos’ shoulder and neck were crushed too quickly for him to make any kind of sound before dying. A new wave of shrieks swept throughout the hall. Thel waited for the noise to die down before continuing down the table.
He stopped at another Primus close to the rear of the table. “Ah, Wosret. You’ve gotten so big over the years, I remember when you had just manifested, you were so cute!” He chuckled playfully. “I remember when you were just a young Primus, with so much to learn about the ways of the world. My favourite memory of those days was when you tripped me in the halls and laughed at me with your friends. Good times. Remember that?”
Wosret squeaked. “If I say yes, will you let me live?”
Thel laughed. “Well, it’s nice to have you admit it up front. As for your question, I’m afraid not.”
He reached forward and flicked Wosret on the nose. The top part of her was violently flung from her body and splattered against the wall, while the rest of her body slumped over and fell out of her chair. At this stage, the hall was in such shock that everyone was too scared to make a noise to react.
Thel clapped his hands together. “Well, that about wraps up the things I wanted to get my chest off today. Of course, the rest of the world needs to be reminded of the real me: Thel, eternal god-tyrant of the world. You guys finish your meals, I’m going to go get my friends and start my universal conquest. And could someone go clean up those stains and get rid of the bodies? Looks hideous. Ooh, this is fun already!”