If You Feel Better

Chapter 31

The cleanup process continued into the morning of the next day. The fires were out, but scorched buildings still emitted black smoke into the sky. Everyone from civilians to nobles to priests were cleaning up the wreckage and tending to injured people. They dragged their exhausted selves to dispose of charred wood, bandage wounds, and clean up the scattered debris thrown from vendors' stalls in the streets. Bags hung low underneath their eyes, brought to life from lack of sleep and an excess of sobbing.

The pharaoh was overlooking the destruction from the same balcony that he had witnessed the party from. He was equally tired, forcing himself to keep his eyes open on the activities below. But he wasn't truly seeing what was happening. He was lost within his own head. He was a failure: a failure as a father, husband, and ruler. Bakura used to only be a danger to him, but that danger then spread to his wife, then to his daughter, and now to all of the Egyptian people. And he could do nothing to stop it. Although he was pharaoh, Bakura was the one truly in control.

"My pharaoh." Priest Mahad kneeled with a fist over his heart, eyes also drooping and exhaustion written all over his face. "All injuries and deaths have been accounted for. There are twenty-three dead and one hundred eighty-seven injured, though many will surely succumb to their injuries."

The pharaoh did not respond. He did not even move his gaze to acknowledge Mahad, but just kept staring emptily into the devastated city beyond.

Mahad awkwardly waited for the pharaoh to say something, remaining in his kneeling posture. ". . . my pharaoh?"

Atem snapped out of it, focusing his gaze on Mahad and struggling to push past his fatigue. "Um, yes. Are all the available physicians aiding them?" he asked, rubbing his aching forehead.

"Yes," Mahad answered. "And we've sent men to collect other doctors from outside of the capital."

The pharaoh nodded. "Good. Now we can shift our focus on to ending Bakura's tyranny once and for all." He pounded his fist against his armrest in determination, feeling the anger start to well up from deep within. "But how?" He folded his hands together and rested his chin on them, coming up with a complete blank. He was far too tired to be able to detail out an effective plan at all. "Most of Bakura's men were able to escape. The ones that weren't are all dead, so we can't interrogate them." He clenched his fist and grit his teeth, tears starting to fall down.

"We will find a way, my pharaoh."

"Will we?!" He stood angrily from his palanquin, all of his guards kneeling down in succession. He stared down at Mahad, though his anger was not truly deserved. "What can we do that we have not tried?! Where can we look that we haven't explored?! Who can we ask that we haven't questioned?! What is there left?!" He fell back into his chair defeatedly, holding his head in his hands. "We have tried everything. And now we're in an even worse position than before. Bakura stole the Millenium Necklace, blinding us to the past, present, and future beyond our own vision."

He lifted his head, eyes glossy red. "I have failed," he continued. "I have failed my wife, I have failed my daughter, and I have failed my country. I am a useless king." He stood once again, determined tears falling from his cheeks. "But even if I am the most useless king to go down in history, I will not rest until my daughter is safe and Bakura is dead."

~

Aya and Bakura rode until the dawn. At some point during the night, Bakura finally shifted his horse from a run to a walk and allowed Aya to sit up properly instead of continuing to be flung over like an animal skin. He had warned her not to try to jump off. He was prepared for it and it wouldn't work. Aya knew that to be true based on her past experience. It was impossible to escape while riding a horse with Bakura. She didn't even bother trying. The horse was faster than she could run anyway. He would just catch up with her.