Upper Egypt - Chapter One
All characters belong to Shara, hands off :3
A story about a Humble Tribal Chief and the "On his horse", "Officer of Upper Affairs" of Egypt.
No Yiff Just yet, but there is mild violence.
HEADS UP! Don't be confused! Historically speaking, and not geographically, Upper Egypt is the southern region, while Lower Egypt is the northern one.
"Oh Noble Bakari, there is a new order from the Pharaoh"
The young, stocky jackal, fell to a knee. He held the scroll out within his right palm, resting his left on the ground, head hung, as per proper royal protocol.
The scroll wasn't too large, but couldn't easily be hidden. It was tied tightly, specifically with a string of wound, imported hemp. It was the only material that could make the "Royal" knot. A unique knot, that if bothered intentionally, would come easily undone, and break the hemp. If the string around the scroll was missing, or wasn't tied correctly, the courier escorting it would await trial on the grounds of treason, and possibly, execution
Every royal courier was trained as a fighter and awarded claymore after certification. These individuals were either short lived, or had earned themselves very, very long and respected careers. Dying to keep scroll or message out of enemy hands wasn't uncommon, as it was expected. Dedication was a must, the job entailed delivering messages from point A to point B, and with many lethal spies about, failure was not an option.
The taller, learner jackal snatched the scroll with his long, lanky fingers. Leaning against the stone wall in his chamber that opposed a wide window, within a blink, he freed his ivory handled, double edged dagger from it's sheath. Without haste, he put it to work with one quick horizontal swipe.
Bakari gave a feral-esque grin to the young, chubby courier, ruffling his headfur as the scroll fell open, "I give you credit on a speedy delivery...but the string cut a little easy..."
Shrieking and yipping, the young jackal began crying, pleading for his own, short-lived being "Please Noble...I beg of you..you and your honorable-"
Bakari gripped the young courier by his scruff, dragging him kicking and screaming into the hall. Lowering his shoulders, jerking his arm outward, he threw him into a palace guard. Clasping his hands, he freed them of dust, turning about face toward his chambers. Parting his lips, he let loose his deep, powerful, and somewhat locomotive voice. The short fragment echoed though the narrow palace back-halls.
"Make sure this traitor gets the pit..."
The hall was filled to the brim noise. Many caters, couriers, and guards used the back-halls to get around the palace, for they were not allowed to use the main ones.
When he spoke, a hush spread through the busy hall, slowing it down to halt.
"Dare you delay, guard, and I shall have your head as well!"
Snarling, and gripping the scroll, he bitterly returned to his chambers.
Conversation once again filled the hall as Bakari walked away, loose gossip roaming through the halls. Jackal after jackal began commenting on the incident.
"He's going to die under the blade"
"No, the pit!"
"I think he just needs a wife...if you know what I mean!"
The hall broke in laughter, even the guard and young courier joining.
The guard held jackal boy by his scruff, just as Bakari had, but lighter, sighing after the laughter "You're a good kid, I know you'd never betray the nobility...don't worry about it"
The jackal courier held the guard tight, grinning ear to ear in bliss, "Thank you honorable guard! May Ra bless your soul!"
The two jackals padded down the narrow back-hallway, arm in arm, chatting like old friends. Even though they had just met, they'd come to a common understanding.
Just out of earshot, as they turned the corner, walking into the main hall, you could just barely hear the guard saying, "...Just stay away from him, he's a crab, kid..."
Flicking an ear at that with an idle growl, the jackal's high peaked hearing easily picking the sour comment out of the miscellaneous corridor chatter. Angrily, he slammed his door, locking it shut.
"Goddamn imbeciles..."
He sat on the bench before the window, letting the sun's light assist his eyes. He always found it quite awkward sitting down. His chamber was one specially catered to a shorter, six foot one jackal. He found it odd, that after his promotion from General to Officer of Upper Affairs, thy would give an average sized, seven foot tall Jackal, a room so...minuscule.
Spreading the scroll out in his slate desk, his back shone, the afternoon sun reflecting off of his sleek, dark, auburn fur. As he read, his eyes slowly grew wide, growling under his breath...
"Most Noble Bakari, this message has been forwarded to you with the utmost of urgency. As the Officer of Upper Affairs, I expect you to handle this situation. I beg of you to not bring troops. The Village of Masika serves the Lower without question, as well as raise any unwanted crossbreeds. Display the reasons I have appointed you. Ra's Speed"
-Your Excellency, Pharaoh Akhom
"I approach you today, Noble, leader to leader. The Village of Masika is under a state of emergency. The Nubian Jackals to the south are slaughtering us in constant raids of the little food and water we have. We beg and beg for military protection, but we never receive it. We're peaceful a gathering of Desert Wolves and crossbreeds, we know no violence. Even if we could gain the fortitude to fight the Nubian Jackals of the south, we would frightfully lose.
The Village that was born during rain is now dry, dreadfully suffering from an extended summer drought. Our most notable oasis, from that we derive out name, has dried, as well as our once sparkling creek and. Although village lies on sweet sand, without water, having good sand is to no use. We beg of you once more, for help, oh Noble Bakari. People have titled you bitter and mean...but we refuse to believe it...
We are at your mercy, oh Noble one.
-We are indebted, Chief Khenti Madu, of the Village Born in the Rain
He stood, rolling the scroll, storing it in his archives. With a sigh, he pulled two fresh sheets of papyrus from his desk, as well as an Eagle's quill. He began scribbling away on them, before rolling them up, tying them with the royal knot.
In the corner of his small chamber, was a cloth pack. With a a grunt, he slung it over his shoulder, onto his back. Heavily walking, he left his chamber. The Noble kept a travel bag ready packed, in situations like these, where he needed to manage the upper in an instant. Closing the door, the noble pulled his knife from it's sheath once more. He held the first scroll tight, stabbing it into the door. The second, he dropped into the "Out" box.
"Gone managing peasants"