There were times Atemu wished he was dreaming. He knew he was a heavy sleeper; it was one of his major faults, which was why there were more guards outside his bedroom door than any other pharaoh that came before him. Given his current situation, though, it was obvious those guards hadn't been enough. He had been stuffed into a bag -- a BAG! -- and if the galloping sound and the way he was bouncing was any indication, he had been tied so he was hanging near the ass end of a horse, no doubt riding off into some obscure place in the desert. Trying to shout would have been pointless, even if he hadn't been gagged. His hands were free, though a lot of good it did him; trying to kick and punch at the horse ass only seemed to encourage it to go faster.
When he got out of this damn bag, he was going to murder the fool stupid enough to make him suffer this indignaty!