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Loose talk in the classroom; Monty & Vincent

POSTED: 27 Mar 2011

* Date and Time: October, 1930 at 2:30pm.
* Setting: A Cambridge University lecture hall
* Weather Conditions: Light breeze, warm day.
* Status: Invitation only.
* Continued from: None.
* Notes: I am so so so sorry this took a lifetime to do. I completely forgot DX

"The mediator between humans and gods was the king. The crowning of a new king transformed him (or, indeed, her) into a new god;
What is the king of Upper Egypt?
what is the king of Lower Egypt?
It is a god by whose guidance you live
the Father and the Mother of all humans
Alone by himself
The one who is unique

Whom said this?" Montgomery Clyde looked around him at the classroom of students, only a few weeks into their first year of university at Cambridge. Most of them were staring at him as though paralysed- not attentive, just too terrified to look away. Most of the others were either genuinely paying attention out of interest or so bored they had dispensed with the pretence. None of them raised a hand to answer. Montgomery sighed and continued, "As said by none other than Rekhmire, High Priest of Heliopolis and Vizier during 18th dynasty Egypt, during the reigns of Tuthmosis III and Amenhotep II." He paused again, and noted that even less students were staring at him than before, and a noticeable number had fallen to boredom.

Could he blame them? He risked a look out of the tall arched windows that flanked either side of him. It was a warm, lazy early autumn afternoon and the sight of students who had been let out of lectures early (or who, he thought idly, hadn't bothered with them at all; many of the older students didn't) stretched out comfortably on the lush green grass of the University grounds (quite against the rules, of course) was enough to make him long to pack up early. He couldn't justifiably do so, however. Give the bloody students even a taste of his being generous of a pushover and they'd be impossible to deal with. Guiltily he glanced behind him at his desk where papers glared at him accusingly. He'd meant to deal with those on Monday. Now, on Friday, things had rather gotten to the point where he'd have to deal with them sooner rather later. His gaze flickered to Vincent Hightower for a second. Damnit, he'd have to deal with this today. The boy wasn't even pretending to pay the slightest bit of attention.

"The most important task for the king was to serve the gods and by that making it possible to maintain order and structure in society. He is seen as the son of several gods, not just one; Papyrus Harris mentions Ramesses III as the son of Amon, Atum, Ptah, Shu, Thoth, Osiris, Wepwawet, Horus and still others besides. The King becomes in fact their incarnation on earth. By observing and obeying the will of the gods he upholds Ma'at, the principle of order, justice and harmony which is necessary for existence to continue." Still fewer students were interested, and now more than half were staring longingly out of the windows to his sides and vaulting high above his head, their eyes skidding past himself, his blackboard and his desk and if they weren't there.

He knew when he was beaten. "One important distinction should be made; it is the office of the king which is sacred, the office is eternal but the person holding it changes through time." He clapped his hands once to get their attention, startling them out of their daydreams and thoughts about what they would do once they escaped the stuffy classroom and their precise, dapper lecturer. "Alright then gentlemen and-"

He caught himself and noted that there were in fact no ladies in attendance. It was a shame; a few years previously there had been a sudden influx of giddy young women hoping to follow in the British Museum curator Evelyn O'Connel's footsteps. Apparently they had discovered it was less glamourous than they had thought and had spread the word. Or perhaps the oppressive masculinity of academia had forced them out; either way there were no young women in front of him now.

"Very good gentlemen. If you could come to the front and collect your marked papers on your way out- no Jacobs, not you. We've already spoken." The young men began filing their papers and books away enthusiastically, surprised that they'd been let out early and eager to escape incase it transpired to be some cruel trick on the behalf of their professor. "Yes, Dean, you may speak to me tomorrow. I haven't any classes immediately after lunch; you may come by then. No, just marking papers like these." Most of his class grabbed their paper with little fuss, although the occasional one would approach him about a low grade or point of confusion. Hightower though, he knew, neither cared what Montgomery thought of him, nor what his grades said about Hightower's paper. A pity, really- the boy could easily get top marks. It was just too easy to see how little he cared, and worse, how much contempt he had for the class.

"Hightower, I need to speak with you. Now. Wait behind after everyone else has left, please."
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