He hated this. He truly, deeply hated this. He'd fought for so long to do so much on his own. Its bad enough half his rule had been spent as a child with others giving orders in his name but now that he was in control, Tutankhamun needed a personal servant to tend to him like he was a child? Down right embarrassing.

But the pain that shot through his leg from his clubbed foot at the slight movement on his prenomen was a reminder that no matter how much pride he had, he had to accept that this was simply how it had to be. No amount of stubbornness would make the walking and climbing into his palanquins any less painful.

He cursed silently. Cursing his parents for birthing him with this broken body. Cursed the gods for whatever cruel joke it was bringing one of their chosen sons to lead like this. Cursed his own body for every ache and pain.

Tutankhamun could put it off no more. With a heavy sigh he waves a hand, signaling for the guards to open the doors to let the first candidate in. He wasn't sure how many had shown up in an attempt to get a position so close to his side as personal servant but he's sure it would be a very long day of this till he found someone he could tolerate spending that much time around.