Ptolomy’s formal reveal of his status, caused a little commotion in the medical camp, as many gathered around him, trying to get a glimpse of the ‘god on earth.’
Alexander even noticed Mean, the four feet-eight-inch petite adult standing on her toes and craning her neck to get a look at the man.
But the bulky men smooshing her together made that action impossible.
“Mean, the king needs some water. Bring it here,” Alexander thought he should fulfill the maiden’s little desire.
And soon the girl came holding a pitcher, literally shaking with excitement as he poured the drink for the king, a grin so big cut on her face, Alexander feared it might never close.
“*Gulg-glug-glug*” Ptolomy was dying of thirst and drank three full cups before finally putting down the earthen cup with a satisfied, “ahhhh”.
Alexander then signaled for Mean to leave, which she did a bit unwillingly, though not before leaving Alexander with a grateful look.
“Now, let us move to somewhere more private, Your Majesty,” Alexander then gestured to the guards around to escort the failed rebel to his command tent.
“Leaders please make your way to the tent, I will join you shortly. Melodias too.” Alexander urged them to accompany Ptolomy.
Alexander also ordered the leaders and Ptolomy to be served dinner, while they waited.
Alexander decided to do something else, as he called Camius who was nearby, and asked him, “How many of Ptolomy’s people are there?”
“Sixteen including Ptolomy,” Camius was taught to always give the exact number.
“Arrange all of them to be interrogated. And during the whole time make sure they are allowed not to talk to each other and collaborate on their story. The guy’s a pathological liar and who knows how much of what he says will be the truth?” Alexander ordered Camius.
“Okay, but there’s a girl with a high fever. Should we interrogate her too?” Camius asked for permission.
“What?” Alexander was confused by this question.
And then it dawned on him the misunderstanding taking place here.
Usually, interrogation meant beating people up, breaking their bones, and other nasty stuff, so Camius was asking if he should beat up the girl too.
“Noo, you idiot,” Alexander scolded the man, “By interrogation I mean ask questions to them like: their names, age, family, home address, where are they from, where they were going, who is their leader, how they ended up here, etc. and write them down.” Alexander gave a few examples.
“Don’t use violence or hit them. Just ask normal questions and write down the answer. I want the full report by tonight,” Alexander demanded.
‘Again with the writing,’ Camius lampooned in his heart.
If there was one thing he hated about working with Alexander was all the writing he had to do.
What Camius didn’t know was that his hatred for paperwork was not singular but universal, a hate shared by all, across all worlds and timelines.
So much so that almost every working adult in the modern world could empathize with Camius to some degree.
But still, everyone did put up with paperwork because it made doing things easier and even Camius had found that out and so only grumbled an anemic, “..kay.”
Then Alexander looked for Cambyses, who was caring for a little, nubile girl. The girl had an exotic wheat-colored complexion and striking bright red hair.
“I will likely be working late tonight. Be sure to tuck yourself to sleep early and don’t pressure yourself.” Alexander quite succinctly told her of his work schedule and after receiving an “Umm, take care,” from the supremely busy girl, he excused himself.
When Alexander arrived at the tent, he found that everyone had finished their meals, evidenced by the large stack of plates on his table, and was chatting among themselves.
They greeted him warmly and after a few pleasantries, the real talk began.
“Now, mister Ptolomy, why don’t you tell us how you got here? Let’s start from the day the king defeated us,” Alexander made a point not to call him king to lessen his importance and make him more amicable to opening up.
Ptolomy too noticed the disrespectful address, but what could a prisoner like him do?
“*Sigh*” He opened his answer with a heavy sigh, “The night Amenheraft won, we took fifty riders and rode north to reach Agnirat. The ruler of that city is the sister…was the sister of a loyal subject of mine and the plan was to take a ship to the Matrak province and meet up with Pasha Farzah.”
“But, who would have thought that we would run out of food for your horse? The sacks we had bought ourselves, had only a few bits of food on the top, the rest were filled with stones. We had been sabotaged.”
“And I was not just one person. Even among the fifty of my most trusted people were multiple traitors,” Ptolomy gnashed his teeth as he said those words, hateful murmurs coming out of his breath.
In fact, the ‘fifty most trusted people’ was a misnomer as a lot of them sided with Ptolomy because of convenience and not out of loyalty.
They saw Ptoloty not as a good alternative to Amenheraft but as a better alternative.
Until the latter won two death-defying battles back to back within a few hours.
This made some of these people re-think their alliance, either due to convenience or because they were got fearing, and decided to sell out Ptolomy.
They did not directly kill or capture Ptolomy because they had taken an oath to be loyal to Ptolomy and could not violate it openly, as it would make them a pariah among the nobles, even if the action was sanctioned by the king himself.
So, they sabotaged and even leaked Ptolomy’s whereabouts by leaving clear signs for the Adhanian trackers to follow.
After Ptolomy centered himself with a little pause, he continued, “On the second day, one of those ingrates managed to lure to a small ambush and even got close enough to kill Nulafzam…he’s the one whose sister rules Agnirat,” Ptolomy introduced as he ground his teeth.
‘My man, you won’t have any teeth by the time you finish,’ Alexander thought playfully at the sound.
“We managed to escape that ambush but lost twelve men, and four revealed themselves as traitors,” Ptolomy recounted,
“The third day continued with them hounding us. Constantly on our tail and never seeming to attack us, just trying tire us out, like a pack of wolves like they knew we had little food.”
“We had tried to lose them, but they knew our destination and had blocked them all off. We were like caged rats. So, desperate, we thought of going south, but even then we were caught.”
“That last ambush was meant to be the end of us, but it looks like the heavens still have a grain of pity in them for me.” Ptolomy flashed a sad smile as he finished his story.
“Why did you rebel?” Alexander was curious,
And Ptolomy told them the various atrocities committed by Amenheraft’s father and how so many of the nobles were all fed up with him.
“I couldn’t let my dear Adhania be destroyed by the actions of a mad king,” Ptolomy justified.
The horror stories told by Ptolomy, though a bit exaggerated, certainly painted the so-called god’s blessed in a grim, hedonistic light.
Many leaders there left gazes of sympathy and even admiration towards Ptolomy for having the guts to rebel against a god.
But Alexander, though surprised, was not particularly moved by the stories.
Even if true, they would be only similar to the cruel practices of some of the kings of his time, like Vlad the Impaler.
Instead of focusing on the past dead man, Alexander decided to focus on the future, “I see, so what now?” He asked Ptolomy about his future intentions.
Here Ptolomy broke into a large smile as his tone did a complete one-eighty, “Commander Alexander, the heavens have decreed that we meet. I believe our fates are intertwined. Help me get Adhan, and I will make you my most trusted general.”
“Ohhh. the owner of the world’s most trusted general, how flattering!” Alexander said in an exaggerated mocking tone, “If you trusted me so much, if our fates are so intertwined, then why did it take me so much effort to get you to admit who you were? Was it all a test?”
Even Ptolomy understood sarcasm this obvious and simply made an awkward face while going silent.
“Well. if you have nothing more to add, then let’s end here.” Alexander had decided to dump this ticking time bomb and kick him out of the camp before dawn.
“Does anyone else have any questions?” He asked the other leaders present who shook their heads.
“Wait, commander, please. Okay, you don’t have to fight for me, just escort me to Agnirat and I will pay you handsomely,” Ptolomy was desperate.
“Didn’t that Nulafzam die? Why should they let you into the city?” Alexander raised an eyebrow.
“No, they will. Because Inayah poisoned Beihrut, the captain of the royal guard. And she helped Pasha Farzah deliver poisons to the former king for years as his mistress. That’s why he went mad. And that’s why Amenheraft and her cannot exist under the same sky.” Ptolomy revealed some earth-shaking news.
The news was so shocking that many leaders went slack-jawed at learning that all the atrocities committed by the king can be actually attributed to this Farzah guy. ｂ𝚍ｎｏｖ𝚕．ｃｏｍ
Alexander too grew curious about this man and about Ptolomy’s rebellion in general and so asked, “I think all of us would like to know how your rebellion Start from the first day the word rebellion was uttered within the halls of the royal palace.”
Seeing all seven pairs of eyes zone on on him, Ptolomy knew they wanted a good story and sighed heavily as he lampooned, ‘I should have become a storyteller instead of a rebel. My life would have been a lot smoother.’
But he knew he had to satisfy these overgrown children with a good story, his life was on the line, “I was always a pretty mediocre prince. Amenheratf far surpassed me in all categories- Prestige, martial arts, bravery, and academics.”
He then let out a rueful smile, “So, imagine my surprise when eight years ago I got an invite to a private ball party at Pasha Farzah’s mansion in Adhan. Those letters only ever went out to people of actual importance, and I never thought one would ever come for me. So naturally, ecstatic and over the moon at this honor. I accepted and joined.”
Then his face turned a little bright as he seemed to recall happy times, “And this was the first of many times. Balls, banquets, and hunting expeditions, I was part of it all. The finest food, the softest clothes, and the most beautiful were all gifted to me.”
“And slowly I was shown the corrupt side of the court, I was shown how the king abused and tortured people. How he taxed them and how his army bullied them. And how Adhania, the greatest country in the country was being pushed into abyss and ruin.”
Then Ptolomy’s voice turned high pitched, “We are god’s kin yet there was a member so low and debase. And his place was so high in this mortal world. How could the gods allow it?”
Then his pitch lowered itself to a low octave, “I was mortified. I could see no way to help my beloved Adhania.”
“And then Pasha Farzah approached me and said if I wanted to make a change, the only way was for me to become king. Only a king, a god on earth could help Adhania. And he said he was ready to help me.” Ptolomy finished introducing his biggest backer.
‘Fool, half the things he showed you must have been planned by him,’ Alexander could only curse the good but na?ve man.