UE Rewrite: B5 — 17. Egypt Revived (Patreon)

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Elinor (Our Lich Empress Raises A Mummy!)

Undying Empire Index

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The afternoon sun cast long shadows across Nethermore as Elinor guided Tempest in a wide arc over her expanding empire. From this height, the streams of humanity threading through the jungle looked like arteries feeding a massive organism—thousands upon thousands moving in organized columns toward the black fortress.

Fifty thousand and counting, she mused, watching supply lines snake through cleared pathways. It will still be weeks before everyone makes it through the jungle, unless we can find a way to transport the more vulnerable faster… Butter should be on that.

Through the Nexus, she felt Garu’s presence far to the northeast, still tracking the abomination from the Cradle. His position told her that he’d gone far into the northern range; there was still so much she did not understand about the land that surrounded her empire.

“Empress,” Paloma’s voice carried through their mental link from behind her. “I just received word that Lucky requests you meet with him and Gwen in the Administrative Core. The logistics for housing arrangements need your approval.”

Elinor’s gaze drifted from the landscape, wind whipping her braid from atop her dragon’s back, her focus lingering for the fraction of a second on the west before flicking to the far northeast of the valley.

Azalea and Camellia had spent quite some time investigating the intruders who entered in a rather dramatic fashion. They’d come from where she’d sent Grace to study the unusual black obelisk Ke’Thra’Ma had constructed between rivers.

I suppose it is time to see if this district can handle the numbers we are about to be welcoming… Ri’bot, yaltha’ma, and human.

Tempest’s golden eyes flashed acknowledgment as he banked toward the central spire, electromagnetic organs crackling with contained energy. Even after days of flying him, the smooth precision of his movements still impressed her—every motion calculated for maximum efficiency. And he’d been so easily killed by that abomination.

Stay safe, Garu…

They landed in the Administrative Core’s central courtyard, where the bustle of activity had tripled since yesterday. Ri’bot workers coordinated with human supervisors, while skeletal laborers moved supplies with tireless precision. The sight would have been surreal weeks ago; now it simply looked like progress.

Lucky appeared from the main entrance, his distinctive gait and perpetual energy radiating through the crowd. Behind him came Gwen, arms full of rolled schematics and her expression carrying the focused intensity that meant she’d been working numbers all night.

Have they formed an actual relationship yet? Elinor mused to herself. It’s been months that they’ve worked together, and even I can see the sparks.

“Empress!” Lucky called out, bounding over with his usual enthusiasm. “Wait until you see what we’ve figured out. Gwen’s been amazing with the spatial calculations, and King Edmon has laid out all the specifications.”

“If he’s already done all the approval work, I suppose this is the final authorization?” Elinor observed as she dismounted, Paloma doing her best not to tumble to the ground. “Show me.”

“Right this way, Empress,” Gwen said with an awkward bow and nudging Lucky to do the same with her foot. “It’s not perfect, but we think it will work…with some extra labor.”

“Oh?”

Elinor followed them toward one of the planning chambers, complete with dozens of ri’bot and humans yammering about their own personal projects; they’d converted it from a quen’talrat Elite Hunter meeting hall to accommodate the massive changes that needed to be done. Everyone went deathly silent as she entered, the space large enough for even Tempest to poke his head inside.

Gwen spread her schematics across a rough wooden table, revealing detailed floor plans of multiple levels around the palace.

“Each room is basically two floors for ri’bot or humans, with three-meter ceilings to boot. Every room could be a house with how big quen’talrat made their stuff, so if we treat each administrative building like an apartment zone, only with five thousand square feet of living space per room, we can accommodate everyone—quite comfortably, might I add.

“But it requires specific zoning protocols. Sure, we have living space, but what about toilets and cooking areas? Those need to be shared or split between units,” she sighed with a frown, pointing out one particular design.

“Quen’talrat had public shower houses, so we’ve been figuring that out. We probably need to designate times of day. Family units get the modified residential sectors—we’ve designed the quen’talrat living spaces for human scale. Single individuals will be housed in communal areas further from essential needs zones since families need quick access to medical zones for kids and babies.”

“You’re thinking ahead. I like that. I see you’ve also tried to mix ri’bot, yaltha’ma, and humans in somewhat proximity to promote integration… Well done. Job assignments?” Elinor asked, studying the meticulous notations covering the plans.

“Already categorized,” Lucky jumped in. “Agricultural workers to the farming districts, crafters and builders to our makeshift industrial zones, anyone with technical skills to the runic maintenance teams in their own areas. We want people to be able to talk in their job groups, yet also promote cross-mingling for events.”

He directed her toward some of the larger areas. “Maybe games? We could have teams based on work groups, some competitions, and rewards! Just stuff to uplift spirits. We can’t always be about survival. The ri’bot clan leaders have been incredibly cooperative—they’re treating this as a chance to learn human, ahem, techniques,” he chuckled.

Integration is working better than I thought. The Xaltan will need to be incorporated carefully, though, Elinor thought with satisfaction. I’m not seeing anything regarding that…

“What about the Xaltan integration?” she pressed. “After your meeting where I defended their path to membership?”

Lucky’s expression brightened further. “That’s actually going better than expected. Word spread about your decision to let them earn their place rather than simply punish them. Several younger Xaltan have volunteered for construction crews, and their elders seem genuinely committed to proving their worth.”

Redemption arcs do wonders for morale…

“Security concerns?”

“Minimal,” Gwen answered with a strained grin. “Your handling of the Xaltan conquest has, eh…spread through word of mouth. Even the humans who were grumbling and looking for an excuse to cause trouble are correcting their behavior fast.”

“And the ri’bot are handling oversight with their unruly bunch,” Lucky jumped in. “They’re better at detecting deception than we are within their culture. Plus, the Xaltan know they’re under scrutiny. I don’t know if it’s right, but they seem to think that if one acts out, it will harm the reputation and standing of the clan itself. I’m not sure if I should tell them to chill or not.”

“Only if it becomes more than social pressure.” Elinor tapped the desk as Gwen rolled up one of the schematics, mind already shifting to her next concern. “I’m perfectly comfortable with dividing the houses into smaller segments. I approve. Now, I need to check on something else. Keep me updated on the arrival schedules.”

“Yes, Empress! Lucky—” she hissed, stepping on his toes and making him do a light bow, with a wink at her.

You’re doing it on purpose to get a reaction out of her, hmm?

“I know you’d approve,” Lucky snickered through the Nexus as the redheaded American woman tried to maintain her composure. “She’s been practicing this presentation, biting her nails, and pacing all morning.”

Don’t be too hard on her. She tries hard, so make sure she doesn’t burn out.

“That’s my goal. Thank you for your grace, Empress.”

She made her way deeper into the fortress, hearing Lucky tease and make jokes to get the redhead to smile. Elinor used the Nexus to locate her family members. What she found made her grimace.

Dad’s hiding in his personal planning rooms. Both versions of Mom seem to be with Aunt Izzy, and judging by the tension in their bond… Growing pains. 

Through their shared connection, she caught fragments of conversation:

“—always was dramatic, even as a child—”

“—excuse me, but which one of us lived through her goth phase—”

“—both of us, obviously, since we’re the same person. Her Empress phase can’t be said the same—”

“—Unlike her goth phase, that is not a phase—”

“—Oh, lighten up!—”

Right. Time to give them space to work through that mess without my interference. Maybe Dad does have the right idea… Hide, let them duke it out.

A smile touched Elinor’s lips as she felt something somewhat unexpected; she hadn’t been sure thirty minutes ago, but now she was positive. Butter’s distinctive presence was approaching from the west, accompanied by the Nexus reports of a helicopter, directing them away from the dangerous, invisible shields over much of the city.

Perfect timing.

The aircraft navigated over the danger zone and into the unprotected area over the Administrative District. It touched down on the expansive road as Elinor arrived, and she couldn’t help but snicker at the flawless blonde poised on the open doors.

“Priss! I’m home!”

Butter jumped out with a wave, radiant as always in a flowing dress that seemed to capture and reflect the fortress’ dark aesthetic. Behind her came a familiar figure that she’d looked forward to seeing again.

Adoncia looked…transformed.

The months she’d spent with Butter in the time-dilated battle royal dimension had clearly been well-used. Gone was the hesitant young woman who’d once doubted her worth—this was someone who’d had extensive time to train, grow, and find her confidence.

Rare-Grade, Elinor noted. Months of development compressed into what feels like weeks from my perspective—no wonder she carries herself differently. Good work, little sis.

“Sister!” Butter called out, practically glowing with excitement even in the darkness. “You’re going to love what we’ve accomplished over the last twenty-four hours. The witches have been absolutely brilliant, and Adoncia has something amazing to show you! Isn’t she just glowing? She’s so strong now! Oh, and who might this adorably dressed ri’bot girl be?”

Before Elinor could respond fully, a new figure approached that caught her somewhat off-guard.

Paloma hissed privately to her, “This is the worst possible timing. I’m so sorry, Empress.” She bowed, the maid-dressed ri’bot girl standing awkwardly a distance away. “This was the time I was supposed to be relieved.”

Hmm. A living ri’bot maid, Theresa? Elinor internally mused. That’s…actually brilliant—cultural integration through service roles.

It is no bother. It pops Butter’s bubble, so I’d take that as a net positive.

“How mean yet entirely expected of you,” her twin snickered.

“Go on, introduce yourself, Kethvara, if I recall, by your unique pattern. From the Xaltan…” Elinor stated, reflecting on her domination tour of the whole Xaltan clan after she’d won. “Your family was one of the few that did not lose someone in the war.”

“You…remember me?” the toad whispered in unabashed shock, fidgeting with the unfamiliar dresswear Theresa had no doubt had tailored for her. “If you prefer I not take this highly esteemed station, then I will return to my previous station at the nursery. I was…hesitant to answer this charge by your Head Maid,” she mumbled, trembling a little.

“Nonsense!” Butter broke in, sweeping forward as the helicopter wound down its blades. “You’ll be relieving Paloma so she can get proper rest. This is a wonderful opportunity to learn more about the empire. I trust Theresa prepared you adequately enough for the basic nature of this post?”

The ri’bot’s large eyes went even wider as the High Queen bounced up behind her. “I have been briefed…on the unusual circumstances, High Queen? I—are you the High Queen? My apologies, Empress! I don’t mean to be rude. I am, umm, eager to learn?”

Butter’s face practically cracked like a mirror, ego shattered as she directed a pout at Elinor. “Has my name and presence fallen so far in my absence! How disappointing, Priss.”

“Why are you blaming me?” Elinor shot back with a small smirk. “The Xaltan are new to the empire, and you haven’t exactly been present, or in this world for that matter.”

“You could have at least shown pictures! I already have quite a few rather complimentary paintings done of my glory. Our people are quite the artists!”

“Oh? I haven’t seen them,” Elinor dismissed. “In any case, Paloma, you are excused. Adoncia, look at you, complete with a brand new, and quite elegant maid outfit yourself.”

Her maid did a courtesy, shooting an encouraging smile at the nervous ri’bot, who likely didn’t know what human facial expressions meant yet.

“Empress,” Adoncia acknowledged with a smile that was more relaxed than it had been in the past. She stepped forward and performed a perfect curtsy, which had Paloma almost tripping on her exit. “Theresa mentioned my brother is working with the Argent Dawn, supporting the human influx, and I hoped…”

“Theresa handles the maids, and my sister has hoarded you long enough,” Elinor grinned, shooting a glance at her bubbly blonde, who was nodding emphatically. “Take the time to find him. But first…” She studied the young woman carefully. “Butter is insisting you show me something you’ve learned on your conquest.”

Adoncia’s smile could have powered the fortress. Her eyes flashed from blue to brilliant red, and suddenly the air around her seemed to thicken with barely contained power. When she moved, it was with fluid grace that spoke of supernatural strength and speed.

“Blue Oni for distance and mental attacks,” she demonstrated, her form flickering briefly into a more ethereal state. A club materialized, spinning on its own beside her and making Kethvara’s mouth part in awe. “Red Oni for close combat and strength.” The frosty hue flipped to crimson, snatching the weapon out of the air and swinging it around with ease.

Elinor flipped to the Nexus, whispering internally, “You’ve become nearly as strong as Quin herself…as a combat maid. I can’t wait to see you in action.”

Adoncia’s blue eyes returned, now shimmering as emotion overtook her—likely a byproduct of her red oni state. 

“I owe everything to you, Empress. Everything… If it hadn’t been for you, my corpse would still be rotting in a cartel basement, and my brother would be dead. Yes, my parents may be addicts, but from what Theresa tells me, they’re recovering…making amends with Sal.”

An empire isn’t built by the crown, Elinor replied quietly, but by the hands and feet that keep it active. Find your brother.

“Oh, Priss, I just want to hug you!”

“Butter…”

Elinor let her bright counterpart jump forward to practically tackle her to the ground, squeezing her with almost enough strength to force her artificial body to pop.

“Okay,” she wheezed, not from pain but her compressed lungs, “I think we already had this reunion, little sister…”

“Oh, this is different, and you know it! Adoncia, wait. Let me hug you, too!”

Once relieved, Adoncia was the next focus of the High Queen’s attention, before the combat maid departed with obvious joy. Butter moved closer again, her expression shifting from playful to serious.

“Alright, fun aside. We need to talk,” she said through the Nexus, the ri’bot looking between them as if they were gods. “As an update on relocating the corpses, the progress has been…slower than I expected. And there are complications. Oh, and why is Mom so agitated? Am I hearing…two Moms? It happened without me?! I’m going to strangle you!”

Playfully fending off her sister, which was certainly something only her little twin could do in public, with their citizens watching from afar, Elinor updated Butter on the happenings of the empire.

Butter returned the report, informing her that about only 20,000 would make it here by the end of the week. The other 30,000 living were having a harsh time with the youth and the elderly inside the jungle biome. 

Additionally, transporting the many corpses, which were carried in mass shipping containers supplied by the US government, was having difficulties on the return route to the valley.

Yet, the White Witches had discovered a ritual to turn water, with several other ingredients—some rare—into oil and gas. Butter described it as molecular restructuring through concentrated life energy, a brilliant breakthrough that had the Black and Gray Covens seething with jealousy and intensifying their rivalry. Non-violent competition was good for them.

It was a start until they could convert the engines into other styles of energy.

Four days until we’re ready for the mass resurrection? Elinor nodded, factoring it in on their walk through the palace halls. Their living maid shadowed them, watching closely. That gives our Mom time to get the projection ready. She’s currently setting it up for the speech tonight. What are your thoughts on the Great Clans’ potential aggression?

“It is almost guaranteed at this point,” Butter hummed with a brightening smile as she saw kids playing down the long hallway that was a kilometer long. “How do you plan to navigate it? I could take the lead!”

Elinor chuckled inside. I know you would love nothing more. However, I don’t think it is guaranteed. There is a balance to keep—deterrence, risk, and reward. Our threat is existential to Krava, and his only advantage is that he has been able to paint the picture of who we are.

“Mhm,” Butter nodded, finding her elbow behind her back, head tilting to the side in their slow walk. “Once they see our growth and potential power, the risk vs reward factor comes in, which is why you made such a flashy entrance in their city. Now, you’ve opened up the option for them to talk. Krava will hate and fight that.”

He will… But the leaders of a giant nation, like theirs, aren’t set in their clan ways, like those in the valley. They have resource management concerns, other threat factors, and stretching themselves for the valley for nothing isn’t a selling pitch. I must be a monster that will destroy them, or his whole image falls apart.

“Mmm. I suppose we aren’t in the best place right now to wage war,” Butter mumbled, glancing around at the aftermath of the war they’d just concluded. “We have exposed supply lines, refugees, and an unfortified city. Our only advantage will be that the ri’bot of the lowlands won’t be adapted to fighting in the jungle, or that is a hope, at least.”

Elinor grimaced, glancing toward the west; the spider sisters were returning, and fast.

I still haven’t heard back from Azalea and Camellia, but it is fair to assume that this is the Great Clan’s first contact. This is a pivotal moment…

Butter’s right eye creased. “You sound concerned, Sister. Those who should be more than capable of handling a small army together.”

Yes…that is what concerns me, she mumbled in return, reflecting on what she knew about the middle spider sister so far. Azalea has a certain…personality. Unlike Camellia, she is extremely confident and proactive in her actions. I might have allowed her too much leniency without giving her the proper time to adapt to my methods.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her! And the family situation with our auntie?” Butter asked delicately. “Dad seems…”

Avoidant?

“Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”

Elinor sighed.

Yes, well, he’s hiding in the military planning rooms. Both versions of Mom are coordinating surprisingly well on the technical setup for tonight’s event, but Aunt Isabelle dials up the stress level to ten. She gestured vaguely. Aunt Izzy is getting the full experience of having two sisters she knows, who are the same person, but also experiencing that in real time.

“Yikes.” Butter winced as Elinor redirected their path toward their next destination. “And you said tonight’s event?”

Showing off the throne room to the population, addressing them with sudden changes to the empire, and a resurrection of an ancient mummy… We’ll head that way. I doubt we’ll make it before our deadly arachnids reach us, though.

“Here is to hoping we can get along! If not, I call dibs on the war! You can go off and do diplomatic stuff with the nalveans.”

I might take you up on that, Elinor hummed with a teasing smirk, at least for the boring initial stuff.

“Please, you’ll get sidetracked down there with that other Seed user that is making a mess of the southern empire. I know you. And you know I’ll have everything covered here!”

We’ll see. We’ll see…

Once they reached the grand entrance hall, Elinor sensed Azalea and Camellia approaching; their emotional signatures carried the satisfaction of successful hunters. And that worried her.

“We have the prisoners, Empress!” Azalea called out, bubbly and gleeful. “We had the most wonderful time! Cami was absolutely magnificent in how far she’s improved her underground silkwork! Ta-da—”

The two thélméthra came rocketing into the hall, at the edge of the hall with their characteristic grace, though both were dragging what appeared to be dozens of giant silk cocoons behind them—literally, dragging across the ground.

Camellia looked simultaneously proud, exasperated, and slightly tentative as she gestured to their haul. “The Great Clan scouting force that attempted to observe our valley. All present and accounted for. We did need to leave their strange base on the snow mountain. We can go back for it…”

“They look cozy,” Butter chimed, gaze settling on the huge ones that wiggled, their contents trying to break free. “From what I hear, it took you nearly all day to wrap things up.”

Condition? she asked.

Elinor studied the silk bundles, counting quickly. Dozens of them. An entire reconnaissance unit. Her twin’s note also jabbed at her caution. A lot of the humans and ri’bot in the area scattered, watching from a distance at the hyperactive, blue-haired girl’s antics.

“Intact and, uh, unharmed…physically,” Camellia mumbled, glancing at her sister. “Though somewhat, ahem, traumatized by Azalea’s educational methods. She was trying to learn more about the differences between the ri’bot here and on the plain.”

“Mmm! Mmm! I was very gentle!” Azalea protested, then giggled. “Mostly. I’ve never been able to talk to my prey before. It was very, very fun and insightful! I brought back gifts. The ones I skinned!”

“Skinned?” Butter repeated, smile becoming forced as she glanced Elinor’s way. “They’re…still alive, though?”

“Mmm! Mmm! I was very careful.”

Elinor felt her dread rising. Tell me exactly what you did, Azalea…

“Okay! So, here’s how I went about my task…”

Elinor felt her fears realized not two sentences in as the blue arachnid jumped into a very detailed outline of how thorough she had been. Yes, the girl was absolutely gifted and hyperobservant, yet she clearly did not understand the aspects of restraint and negotiation—she was, after all, a world destroyer.

“Empress… You’re not pleased?” Azalea mumbled, lips becoming a line as her eyes darted to the side, many brains likely analyzing copious amounts of information to find the issue. “I discovered their neural pathways, their response stimuli compared to the valley ri’bot of the past century, their purpose and mission, their actions under severe stress and elation…”

It’s not your fault, Azalea, Elinor cut her off. It is mine… I did not inform you of our negotiating position or the potential direction I’d like to go. You went above and beyond expectations, as is your nature. Now, how do I fix my blunder? Mom might be able to reattach their skins, but…

The ri’bot in the hall were noticeably shaken after the bubbly girl had produced the still-wet skin suits she’d used thread to impersonate their squad members.

Azalea's expression shifted to something that might have been remorse if it weren’t for the glint in her electric pink eyes. “Oh! I can fix that, Empress! If you wish, I can wipe their memories of the entire encounter. Wouldn’t that solve the tactical direction issues I created?”

“Wow! Quite skilled, aren’t you?” Butter chirped.

Memory alteration? Elinor carefully repeated. How thorough is it?

“Very simple. Neural pathway modification with the sight of me,” Azalea explained happily. “Trauma is then targeted and suppressed. I know exactly which synapses to strike. One little zap, and they’ll remember nothing of their encounter with us. It should only take an hour or so to be thorough! I want to be sure when they see me, I am totally alien.”

Butter’s eyes went wide. “That’s…terrifyingly convenient. Wouldn’t you say, Priss?”

Behind them, Kethvara made a small sound of horror while speaking to one of the other ri’bot in the area. “It is hard to believe these creatures once lived beneath our home. Look how they move as humans,” she whispered. “And is that…ri’bot skin—skinned like the Tesekan Clan do?”

If Azalea can actually erase their memories cleanly, that solves the immediate diplomatic crisis. But do I trust a giggling spider with the mental integrity of Great Clan warriors? In fact, what if she knew what I wanted, but did this so she could provide the solution… I’m starting to see just how dangerous this race actually is, and she’s the second weakest in her family.

Do it, Elinor decided. She wanted to keep their flying mounts, but that could be bartered for or taken if negotiations fell through. But carefully. I need them functional for intelligence gathering, not brain-dead. The birds, too, if you can.

“Yay!” Azalea clapped her hands together. “I’ll get to work right away! This is going to be so educational! C’mon, Cami, I’ll show you the right places. We can do it together!”

Elinor wasn’t so sure that was the best decision, but it did further give Camillia more confidence in her craft. One thing was for sure, though, Azalea was exactly the monster the ri’bot myths painted her as.

As the thélméthra began dragging their captives toward the medical facilities, Elinor turned her attention to the larger picture. The timing was almost too perfect—Butter’s return, the captive scouts, the approaching crowds of refugees.

Time for the main event. Are you ready for a resurrection, Fatty?

“I love resurrections! Lead the way, big sister.”

Elinor gave the terrified residents of the hall an encouraging smile as the sisters crawled up the wall and out of sight on the 4th level of the palace interior to do their work.

They made their way deeper into the hall, past chambers that had once housed the deliberations of the Thirteen Kings and Queens of Ke’Thra’Ma. The corridors hummed with activity as they passed.

Both versions of Tiffany came into view, directing ravens and student witches or warlocks on installing ritual, holographic projectors in alcoves and doorways.

How’s the camera setup progressing? she asked through the Nexus.

“Smoother than it was in Kaspir,” came the dual reply from both versions of her mother, their voices overlapping in eerie harmony. “The ritual cameras are interfacing beautifully with the quen’talrat crystal networks. We’ll have full holographic coverage throughout the palace and courtyard areas within the hour.”

Butter leaned in, whispering privately, “Did they know they were talking at once?”

I don’t think so…

“How bizarrely funny!”

Her twin watched the bustling technical work with fascination.

The corridors grew more expansive and more imposing until they reached the massive doors that led to the Throne Room, now wide open.

And, inside? A space so vast it seemed to swallow sound itself.

Thirteen thrones were arranged on a massive dais, each illuminated by corresponding colored gemstones embedded in the cathedral ceiling high above, each larger than a truck.

Yet, the central white throne dominated them all, sized for the thirty-foot frame of the White God himself.

“Holy balls, Batman,” Butter breathed, repeating some ridiculous thing she no doubt heard from Earth and had no clue about the context. “Nia would be going crazy… Oh, that’s the little bunny girl, that is Rachel’s Soul Item—her outfit. It’s her outfit. It’s so pretty…”

Elinor felt totally disjointed, but shrugged it off to look at each colored throne and gem.

Turquoise, blue, pink, purple, brown, black, white, silver, red, orange, yellow, tan, and green. Thirteen thrones for thirteen rulers, with Ke’Thra’Ma elevated above them all.

The throne room where a god once held court. Where he received tribute from conquered nations and handed down judgments that shaped continents, today, it has become hers. Well, and her spastic twin sister’s.

Well, the equipment is just about set up… Let’s start the show.

“Citizens of the Undying Empire, Elinor’s voice rang out through the Nexus to her undead and aloud to those within range of the ritual devices as her mother activated them. “Assemble in the Throne Room and palace. History awaits.”

The response was immediate. Through the vast corridors came the sounds of thousands moving over the next hour—ri’bot throat-sac calls mixing with human voices, the clatter of boots and claws on ancient stone.

Families emerged from residential areas, workers abandoned their posts, and her undead soldiers formed orderly ranks to create lines. The great doors of the throne room were wide as streams of people flowed in like rivers converging.

Elinor used her chains to bring Butter and her to the white throne to stand at its base, surveying the crowd that filled the massive chamber. Humans clustered with their children, ri’bot craned their bodies high to see over the masses, undead soldiers stood at perfect attention.

Through the crowd and Nexus, she spotted movement—Azalea and Camellia emerging with satisfied expressions, their “educational work” complete, as they reported. The Great Clan scouts were waiting for her. Her father appeared to take one of the thrones beside the white centerpiece.

“Sarah,” Elinor called out, her voice carrying across the chamber. “Bring forth what you have carried across worlds.”

The procession that entered was magnificent, directed by both versions of her mother, who flanked an ornate sarcophagus, moving in eerie synchronization.

Aunt Isabelle walked behind them, looking utterly overwhelmed by the spectacle unfolding around her. Kethvara—the nervous ri’bot maid—struggled to help carry precious artifacts that had accompanied the mummy across dimensions, her large eyes wide with awe.

“Mom’s going all out,” Butter giggled.

Well, she was a professor. This is a big deal for her, too.

Sarah walked at the head of the procession, tears already streaming down her face, her hands shaking as she carried scrolls and documentation.

“Dr. Whitmore,” Elinor gestured to the space before the central dais, “Address the empire as to who you have brought from Earth. Tell your fellow citizens who is about to enter our ranks.”

The chamber fell silent as thousands of eyes turned to the mouse-like professor. Sarah stepped forward, her voice trembling but growing stronger as her passion overtook her nerves, the raven-carried cameras turning to her.

“Citizens…what lies before us is not just any mummy. This is Hatshepsut. Known as Ma’at-ka-Re, one of the most powerful rulers in human history.”

Her voice carried through the projectors to every screen, every corner. “She lived over three thousand years ago on Earth, in a place called ancient Egypt, and no woman before or after would rule that land with such longevity, prosperity, and power.”

The crowd leaned forward, captivated.

“She declared herself pharaoh—not queen, but king—and ruled Egypt for twenty-two years of prosperity unlike any other. She built monuments that still stand today—for over three thousand years—sent expeditions to lands thought unreachable, and wove a story so powerful that an entire civilization accepted a woman as the chosen vessel of the gods.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd—humans awed by the historical significance, ri’bot intrigued by the concept of human history in their former world.

“She didn’t conquer through war,” Sarah continued, her voice growing stronger. “She conquered through narrative, through the sheer force of will and intelligence. She rewrote the rules of civilization itself.”

Elinor stepped forward, emerald flames beginning to dance along her arms. “And today, we welcome that same power into our empire. Welcome, Hatshepsut.”

She opened her Death Pool, butterflies of green fire materializing around the chamber. The ancient wood began to smolder, then burn away entirely, revealing the perfectly preserved mummy within.

[Raise Undead III: Activated]

Yet, something was wrong. Not with the soul itself, but her own ability to raise it, which brought an internal chuckle to Elinor’s cold heart.

I really should start screening these things… I need to improvise because I cannot elevate her to the Supreme Court, although I can grant her that temporary position—Epic-Grade, just like Camellia, but at the A-tier level. Interesting.

This wasn’t just any corpse—this was a ruler who had literally rewritten the foundations of Egyptian civilization, someone who had bent gods and pharaohs to accept female kingship through pure force of narrative.

I think I have the perfect position for you…

Power flowed through the preserved form as ancient flesh regenerated.

When the golden eyes opened, they burned with intelligence that had literally reshaped one of humanity’s greatest civilizations. Caramel skin glowed with subtle necromantic vitality as thick black hair cascaded free from its wrappings.

[Undead Raised as Epic-Grade Royal Court Member]

[Hatshepsut: Epic-Grade - Truth Core - Propaganda Division - Prophetess - Lv.1]

The woman who rose from the sarcophagus was breathtaking—not merely in beauty, but in the sheer force of presence that had once, supposedly, convinced gods and mortals alike to accept female pharaonic rule.

“I am…risen?” Hatshepsut said, her voice carrying a far more feminine tone than Elinor had expected.

I suppose true historical figures really do carry a different weight to their soul.

As the ancient ruler stood with fluid grace, Elinor felt the many new paths opening up for her with the addition of the Prophetess Class to the Royal Court. But that could come later.

Sarah was openly weeping with joy, and even Aunt Isabelle had stopped looking overwhelmed, replaced by pure wonder.

And now for the crescendo, her speech before I take the stand.

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