If You Feel Better

Chapter 54

Peering out eerily from beneath his hood, one of Bakura's men glanced around suspiciously, keeping a watchful eye for any royal guards or perhaps even Princess Aya herself. Bakura required that a handful of his men always be out and about in case someone wanted to report information. They took shifts amongst each other, but, to him, it was all a waste of time. In all honesty, the situation annoyed him to his core. He couldn't care less about the princess or where she was.

His boss' infatuation with her was tedious. He made them guard her, stalk her, and go on these crazy missions for her. He was sick of it. In his opinion, Bakura should've held her down and gotten it over with already. What's the use in pining over a woman when you just force them to give you what you want?

But on the flip side of that coin, the world was a cruel, cruel place. Tragedy, malice, and betrayal lurked around every corner. His own personal hope for this life was snuffed out long ago and he wanted to see it burn. But he was but a man: no money, no power, and no way to seek revenge. He thought he would have to watch as those who wronged him went unpunished, living lavishly, unaffected by all of the chaos they had created. He had almost accepted it.

The difference between him and Bakura was that despite being the same way, Bakura refused to take it lying down. He didn't have money? He stole enough gold, jewels, and other valuables to not only keep himself wealthy, but his men too. He didn't have power? He found each like-individual that he could: wanting to unleash their wrath on the world but had no way to do so. He gathered them all into an army of his own, keeping them together as their band-accepted king. He had no way to seek revenge? Well, he had a plan. He would collect all seven of the Millennium items and release Zorc, the Dark One upon this world and cast darkness and despair among everyone and everything.

For this, he admired Bakura far above the actual pharaoh or any other person that walked the Earth, as did nearly all of his men. And it was for that, he would follow the self-proclaimed King of Thieves to the ends of the Earth. And if that meant catering to his obsession over Princess Aya, so be it.

"Excuse me." A man wearing an off-white linen robe with patches of deep-seeded dirt walked up to him, holding one of the flyers that Bakura had had printed. "Are you one of the men referenced on this flyer? I think I may have some information."

He eyed the man for a moment, taking in his appearance and finding no reason for concern. "Yes, I am one of the men mentioned," he confirmed. "What information do you have to relay to me?"

The man then stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Suddenly, an ambush of royal guards swarmed upon him, weapons drawn and yelling orders. It's a trap! he thought. He tried to make a break for it, but they had him surrounded on all sides, grabbing him by his arms and shoulders and pushing him to the ground against his will. His cheek scraped against the dirt, kicking up a small cloud of dust into his face and coughing as he inhaled it into his lungs. He finally gave in, otherwise knowing the edge of a spear, and found himself under arrest.

~

Anou watched over a group of lesser slaves as they wandered about the streets of the city, gathering a list of supplies and groceries for the household. He was in charge of making sure none of them were looking to make a getaway or purchase anything they weren't supposed to. Three of them were at a stall, mulling over some fruit and two others were inspecting some animal skins across the street.

He stood in between them, arms crossed, going back and forth in keeping an eye on the two groups. It was a task he had been assigned innumerable times before, monotonous and unexciting, but someone had to do it. He was trusted by Ptahbis enough to be the chaperone of his slaves while he couldn't be there, making him an authority among the servants. He ignored most of the people that passed by, and for the most part, they ignored him as well.

A group of royal guards suddenly converged on a lone man in a black, hooded robe, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to his knees. The man struggled against them at first, but quickly gave in once he realized he was outnumbered by a dozen to one. "Get on the ground! Surrender your weapons!" they yelled, abusing the man both verbally and physically even when he complied.

Citizens gathered around to watch the commotion as if it were the highest quality of entertainment. Being that many of them led nothing but mundane lives, the occasional scuffle was the most excitement they would ever get in a day. Anou, being taller than most people, didn't have to stretch his neck too far to watch from his position. The guards yanked the man up, who was clearly in pain, and marched him towards the outskirts of the city, spears drawn on him as if he could rebel at any second.

The periodic tussle in the streets wasn't uncommon, but what was uncommon were the palace guards being a part of it and dragging someone away as if they were one of the most wanted men in the country. Anou raised a curious eyebrow at the situation, but did not think much of it beyond what he saw. If that man were truly dangerous, the palace guards had him under control now, so there was nothing to worry about. Even if that weren't the case, there were few who could stand up to Anou.

His small band of servants, too afraid of punishment to have paused their shopping to watch the skirmish, congregated around Anou with their respective products in hand, ready to head back to the manor. Anou silently nodded at them, and together they trudged on the path back home.

The streets were crowded as per usual, people bumping and banging into each other as they walked by. Many carried woven baskets on their heads, both to contain produce and to shade themselves from the sun. Nearly every day in Egypt was a hot day, no clouds to protect ashen skin from the harsh rays, baking those that had to be in it as if in a giant oven. Anou was no stranger to these conditions. His already dark complexion burned darker and darker each day, but he ignored the pain of the sunburns. He barely felt them anymore, the sting completely blending into his normal day.

He stared lazily at the walls during their journey to pass the time, full of flyers, posters, and announcements of different kinds that he barely glanced over before moving on. There were two that kept popping up at regular intervals, the repetitiveness mildly irritating him.

They were two flyers, depicting different people, which was clear from a distance, but one of them Anou was familiar with. It had been up for a very long time. He saw it every day when he went outside of the master's property, but he had never bothered too look at it up close. The other had only recently appeared, but it was always next to a picture of the old one. Not only that, but now, they were everywhere. There was nowhere to escape them. Every wall, street, and alley were stamped with these images. Someone wanted to make sure that every single soul saw them, not a person to be missed.

While stuck in a bit of a traffic jam, Anou used the time to stare at closer them for once. He narrowed his eyes at the older image. The person looked more and more familiar the longer he looked. Abandoning his supervision of his slaves for just a moment, he walked up to the poster, ripping it down to examine it further. It was a missing-person's poster, depicting Princess Aya dressed in formal clothes with great detail on her face. It asked that any information go directly to palace guards in hopes of finding her alive and well. He hadn't even known the princess was missing. He barely even knew there was a princess at all. He scrutinized her face further, something deeply recognizable about it, but he just could not place it.

Just then, a memory suddenly barged into his head:

"Listen, I am not some commoner nor am I the child of some noble. I am the missing princess of this country. My father is the pharaoh and he is looking for me. If you can get me to the palace, I will have him reward you for returning me home. If I'm found working as a slave, it will not end well."

The realization hit him like a stone wall. He ripped down the newer flyer as well, looking at it closer in conjunction with the old one. It was the spitting image of Aya, the slave, the day they had purchased her. Looking back at the older one, it was the spitting image of her once she was cleaned up at the house. He shifted quickly back and forth between them, not believing his eyes. They weren't different people after all.

Ptahbis' slave, Aya, and Princess Aya were the same person. She had been telling the truth.