Still in Ancient Egypt..Right?

Prolog

Hello, my readers! I am re-editing my story to make even more sense and have the chapters be longer. THIS IS THE SAME STORY AS BEFORE, BUT I AM RE-DOING IT SO IT WILL MAKE MORE SENSE!!!!!!! I hope you will reread this! I love you all!

The way to pronounce Asim's name is "ah-SEEM", Rabiah is "rah-BI-uh", and Kieran "KE-ran"

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"-ich is why you need to be paying attention, Asim."

Asim lazily lifted his head from the table in front of him, brown hair poking up from where he was laying on it. He was supposed to be studying, however his 17 year old mind always dozed off when listening to his instructor. Asim yawns and stretches before shaking his head, trying to focus sleepy, turquoise eyes on the small, wrinkly tutor. Rabiah had a small amount of hair, which was covered by a white head covering. He was smaller than Asim's 200 cm height, standing at 154 cm. This particular educator has been teaching the 17 year old since he was 6 years of age. He was always a "stubborn child", as Rabiah put it. Asim supposes he will admit to being rather rambunctious in his younger years.

"I am sorry, sir. Please do continue."

In his withered hands, Rabiah held his favorite antique scroll. This was the scroll in which he would always teach mathematics. He sighed and shakily rolled up his parchment. "Why, Asim? Why do you apologize when this happens every day?"

Asim rolled his shoulders, giving another yawn. "I am trying to stay awake, sir."

Sighing once again as he turned around, he waved the boy away, officially ending the failed lesson. Rabiah began to pack up his scrolls that were on the table in front of him. The scrolls ranged from new to aged parchment. Some were so old that they were on the brink of crumbling when touched.

Asim stood up to leave the room. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

"Do try and not fall asleep tomorrow!" He replied without looking up from delicately placing his beloved rolls into a sturdy box.

Asim leaves the modest sized room as he heads toward the library. He was in the process of researching his mother's death without anyone's knowledge. The prince did not want to raise suspicions; Asim did not trust his father, the Pharaoh. He has been out of sorts as of late, especially when it deals with him. When Asim enters the library, he is met with rolls upon rolls of parchment stacked together in many cavities, filling the expansive room. He browses the shelves, looking for particular scrolls to help with the growing curiosity. After he had gathered a few documents and sat at the table provided, he began sifting through them, spreading everything out. As he studied the yellowing papyrus, he noticed that there were symbols that seemed to spell out something. These symbols were not Egyptian, that was for certain. They looked to be from the Indus Valley. The prince had studied languages from around the world since he was little.

Asim had finally pieced the papers together. They spelled out six words, words he felt were true but did not want to believe. "Pharaoh killed Queen and first-born." It was a short sentence, but it told him everything he needed to know. He had guessed as much with his father acting more irritated and on edge. He and his advisor were always huddled together, whispering and watching him.

The boy was almost too lost in his thoughts to hear rustling outside the library. He shook his head and peeked out of the room. The palace guards were coming from the other end of the hallway, stopping the servants they passed to ask where "he" was. Asim assumed they meant him, as they were heading his direction, so he slid out of the doorway and hastily made his way towards the one person he knew for certain he could trust. He found his instructor waddling down the hall, his beloved box of scrolls tucked safely under his right arm.