Look For the Girl (With the Broken Smile)

A Prize of War

Mana's first month and a half as Pharaoh was surprisingly uneventful. She had to be present at the meetings the regency had to discuss the rebuilding effort, but that was basically the extent of her duties. Money, she quickly learned, won over everything. They needed money to pay artisans to erect monuments. They needed money to bring in new workers to help rebuild the villages and cities that had been destroyed. They needed money to strengthen the army. Most of all, they needed money to supply the massive amount of gold the insurrectionists - more appropriately Menes - demanded as reparations. The palace wasn't spent of gold, but they needed new money in the treasury in order to ensure they always had enough. 

That meant discussing taxes. Raising them. Lowering them. And a Ra-cursed lot of squabbling about them. That was the subject of today's meeting: Menes was concerned that the current taxation rate was too small to pay for everything that still had to be paid for. And this was the same man who claimed to speak for the poor and insisted that the insurrectionists had sacked towns, systematically killed off the ruling class, and defaced monuments because the taxation was too high. 

Mana was torn between wanting to wisecrack about how most of that extra tax money would get dumped into Menes's hands and wanting to scream. 

"If we ask every able man in Egypt to pay his due, we won't even have to raise the amount too much!" Menes said, clapping his hands together. "That's what I adore so much about this country; so many people to contribute!" 

Conveniently pretending that most of that money we ask for won't be lining your own money purse, are we?  Mana thought, although she kept that to herself. Instead, she said, "People are still suffering, Menes, especially in villages where battles took place. Villagers in those places lost their homes, their fields, their livestock. Should we really be asking them for money?"

"In order to fund the reconstruction of their homes, Lady Pharaoh, I believe we must. Gold doesn't simply grow on trees," Aknadin said. 

For a moment, Mana saw the mental image of a tree, like the massive fig tree that grew out in the garden (the one Atem and I used to climb, a traitorous part of her thought), weighed down by plump nuggets of gold. She almost giggled but somehow managed to stay impassive. "I know. But I can't in good conscience enact taxes people are unable to pay. They shouldn't have to give penance for the insurrectionists' grievances." 

Menes frowned. "Your Highness-"

"If I may, Lord Menes."

Mana sighed quietly as Khnurn spoke. The older man had developed a habit of sweeping in when she didn't want to talk anymore or wasn't sure what to say throughout the past week, which she was grateful for. He was hard to read, though, and Mana still wasn't sure about being completely honest with him yet. 

"What is it?" Menes asked with an irritated huff, as if being addressed by a particularly bothersome child. 

Khnurn didn't seem to notice or care, however. "I can't help but wonder why you're so adamantly in favor of raising taxes, especially since you claimed issue with the government for the same reason."

"It won't be by much, Lord Khnurn," Menes growled. "Just enough to allow the government to fund all the extra rebuilding going on. Don't forget, this isn't normalcy, your country just exited a civil war." 

That you caused. 

Menes was suddenly glaring at her, along with Djoser, Ahmose, and Seti. Well, the latter three didn't look angry so much as strangely irritated. Mana closed her mouth as she realized she had voiced her thoughts out loud. 

"Lady Pharaoh, what did you just say?" 

"I said... I said..." Mana cleared her throat. "You were the leader of this group of insurrectionists, who were the aggressors in this war, Lord Menes. Why are you acting as if you're not partly responsible for it?"