Ahkmenrah: The Fourth King of the Fourth Kings

Chapter 40: Conquered

This was it. Exactly as he saw in his vision. The smell of blood metal and fire. Burnt chariots, bodies mutilated beyond recognition. They had lost.

Now came the question. To be or not to be.

They had lost. No doubt shame would be brought upon them. It wasn't that Ahkmenrah wasn't capable. It was more so that his morals and ethics were blurred together.

Should he fight till his last breath? Or should he spare himself the shame and die here and now?

He gave Kahmunrah a sideways glance. He subtly gestured to the sword then to himself. Kahmunrah gave him a small, barely noticeable shake of the head.

He wasn't going to play the suicidal fool.

Sargon stepped forward, his blue cloak billowing majestically about him. His eyes were nothing like what Ahkmenrah had seen. One black. One white. He had a cool, calm, collected aura. But it was also powerful.

But through the hardened features of his face, and the roughness of his beard Kahmunrah could see he was quite young. Twenty-five at the most. Or his age, nineteen, at the least.

Other than his eyes, there was nothing particularly striking about the Sumerian commander. He wasn't particularly handsome, neither was he particularly ugly. He wasn't tall, neither was he small. He was quite average in all aspects but his eyes. That was partly what made him so intimidating. The fact that he was so normal.

A smile graced the Sumerian commander's face. He had won. But he also knew Ahkmenrah's silence was an act of defiance. They would not surrender. At least not officially.

"You have fought bravely young Pharaoh...I will reward you. Ask for anything, I will grant it."

Kahmunrah's heart beat furiously as he saw his little brother trying to make a decision. To ask or not to ask.

Kahmunrah stepped forward.

All eyes turned towards him. Almost as if they were drawn to him. Like how people would be drawn to a full moon.

"Treat us as fallen kings are treated." He said. Defiance clear in voice.

Sargon raised his eyebrows is astonishment.

"Well if it isn't the King's brother. I heard your little brother was chosen over you as Pharaoh."

Kahmunrah felt jealousy bubble up inside of him. A dangerous emotion. But he controlled it.

Every time he tried to get over it, he would be reminded of it sharply. It like tying two ends of a rope together but having it severed brutally every time the knot was almost complete. Making you have to start all over again.

But Kahmunrah's expression was a calm as ever. He gave a Sargon cool stare. Sargon took a subconscious step back, be he too remained grounded. Both men gave each other such piercing stares that no one would have be surprised if one of them had fallen over, bleeding.

Sargon then in a quiet yet strangely commanding voice said, "Arrest them"

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She saw him. His confident strides. Blue cloak billowing.

Seknut stepped out of her house.

It was the fabled Sargon of Sumer. A young man, but made older by his physique and hardened expressions. Then there were his eyes. Black and White.

Seknut dared to step further, out to the herb garden.

Sargon gave her glance. His head held high. Pride in every feature of his face.