Standing in the Dijat of Heka in the noonday sun was not Khaemtir’s idea of a good time. He preferred to be out in the evening when the heat was fading off the streets and the air held a hint of the night’s chill to come. He fidgeted more than he should have, Udjebten clicking her tongue at him every time he did
just like his mother would, but he couldn’t help it. White silk or not, his parent’s choice of outfit was stifling in this heat. They hadn’t spared any expense on it though and he was begrudgingly in love with the design despite knowing it wasn’t his first choice of outfit. Ivory silk was covered in delicate grey threads, creating a spider web of elegant designs, that faded into gold at the flared bottom and the stiff high collar of the robe. Thankfully, it offered some respite from the material, gold arms rings and vambraces taking the place of the usual sleeves. He thought the vambraces were too much but he was informed they were “ceremonial” and wearing them wasn’t an option. The cloak was clasped over it and he couldn’t help but worry at the material as he stood at attention, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he waited.
The day the cloak came was simultaneously incredibly exciting and terrifying. It was an admission that his life was changing in a way he could never have imagined when he was younger but if anything, it just fueled the excitement all the more. He’d barely suffered through the congratulations from his family―Udjebten actually bit his pants to keep him from making an escape before everyone finished
everything they had to say. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d torn his pants in an effort to make him stay still and he really liked those ones damn it!―before he bolted to his room and tore through every article of clothing he owned in an attempt to find something for the commencement ceremony. He was tempted to wear red but he hadn’t wanted to seem presumptuous and then grey was the next thought but he wanted color. He even considered getting some new earrings, something with more than just gold, but he couldn’t make up his mind. His sister Menwei, who had been out working on some project for the Red Order, caught him just as he started crying as the uncertainty and bubbling emotions spilled over and helped him find something he was satisfied with. Not that he got to wear it in the end but it was his first time really doing anything with her.
Guess she wasn’t as awful as he thought.
Khaemtir watched anxiously as the ceremony finally began. He was unsure how to feel about the change in procedure; his family held tradition in high esteem and the Crimson King missing the ceremony made his gut churn with uncertainty. Ruling Photep was no easy job, Khaemtir imagined, but such a significant deviance made him wonder how that bode for this incoming group. He sighed quietly, earning another click from Udjebten with an added pat on the foot, and put it out of his mind. The Vizier to the Crimson King, Sorcerer-Magus Amon, was still leading the ceremony and he was practically an extension of the Crimson King himself so his presence was still there. Stil, Khaemtir couldn’t shake the feeling it was an omen for the future.
However, he had far more pressing matters to concern himself with: his Cult. When the courier delivered his cloak, he’d scoured the notice of his acceptance over and over and over in hopes it’d give him some clue into his future selection. Honestly, he didn’t mind which one selected him. He wanted to study magic and every Cult did that but he was nervous. His dislike of Biomancy, and his inability to keep his lunch down around some of the concepts, instinctively drove him away from the Cult of the Serpent. Logically, he understood that that wasn’t the only thing they taught but joining a Cult with a heavy focus on the one specialty that made him ill would cast a shadow over his excitement. He did lean in favor of the Cult of the Phoenix but in reality, he didn’t care. He just wanted to study the greatest treasure of the greatest city in the entire world!
So when Vizier Amon called his name under Sorcerer-Magus Dagon of the Cult of Crows, Khaemtir was floored. He knew he hesitated but he needed a moment to process. He’d never imagined that the Cult of Crows, the Cult well known for holding onto the Crimson King’s favor
and producing the greatest Sorcerers of all time, accepted him into their ranks. He;d finally have an achievement worth his scroll! Khaemtir may have forgotten his manners and gaped until Udjebten head butted his leg.
“Get moving, Little Khae. We must not keep people waiting.” She said even as she shone with pride.
“Thank you, Vizier.” Khaemtir said respectfully when Amon made his rounds at the end of the ceremony, bowing his head at the words and then beaming once he stepped away. It felt like hundreds of bubbles were boiling up inside of him and he knew he’d have a spring in his step. He spied his family out of the corner of his eye and while he knew they were waiting for him to join them, he had something to do first. They would understand. They were the ones who taught him the importance of networking after all.
So he focused his attention on the others inducted into the Cult with him. Ishara he knew, between their families mingling at charity events and attending Pesedjet together, he knew she was a hard worker and a promising Sorcerer. He grimaced internally though. They had very different working styles and it had led to some friction between the two. She was great at what she did but she was… aggressive about it and Khaemtir didn’t know how to step back from it without getting wrapped up in the conflict. Hopefully, they could… avoid working together too much.
But the other one, Rada or Radia or something, was an entirely new face. Which made sense considering his simple clothing beneath the high quality Sorcerer’s cloak. He was definitely from the commoner’s part of the city. This cloak was probably the nicest thing he owned, if the fact that he was wearing reed sandals was anything to go by. He seemed the serious type and Khaemtir was a little jealous of his composure. It's always been a failing of his but who could blame him; he didn’t have any serious responsibilities until now! He was probably another one of Ishara style workers; dedicated to the point of obsession and Khaemtir felt the exhaustion inside him already. But if they were going to be working together, he’d rather be friends than awkward acquaintances!
“Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while still, Ishara!” Khaemtir laughed.
“Couldn’t get rid of me at the galas, couldn’t get rid of me at Pesedjet, and now we’re Sorcerers together. I’m not surprised the Crows picked our little Prodigy. But you sir,” He whirled on the new guy,
“Are something entirely new. You couldn’t have gone to Pesedjet. I don’t think I could forget a giant like you! I’m Khaemtir Maryatum, the third youngest of the Maryatum family, and this is Ishara Thumotep, only daughter of Aramia Thumotep.” He introduced them with a bow.
“So I was thinking that since we are all joining together and Ishara and I have…” Khaemtir had sudden flashbacks of more than a few research projects they shared.
“History already, why don’t we meet up at my place and we can relax and get to know each other?”“With a chaperone of course, little Khae.” Udjebten chimed in, pointedly looking at Ishara. Khaemtir groaned.
“Of course with a chaperone, Udjebten. It’ll just be Amenemhatanhk.” Khaemtir waved off the concern, turning to explain to others.
“He’s in charge of maintaining the estate. We can just ignore him; he’s old enough to be part of the building anyway.” 
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