The Goa’uld were thieves, scavengers of the worst kind. Amongst his own court, Ba’al freely admitted to this fact. His underlords were keenly aware of the balance of power, how a Goa’uld ought to maintain their fiefdom, to keep up appearances and the illusion of ultimate power.
Heresy existed in the past and it would not do to allow it to flourish out of laziness. Power was fickle and one had to keep their wits about them if they wanted to keep it.
Unlike the others, Ba’al didn’t care to revel in the worship overly much; indeed, it was a failing of many Goa’uld to fall into the crutch of believing their own lies.
Those Goa’uld usually died in short order, within a few decades or centuries, depending on how powerful they were.
Even Ra, strong as he was, succumbed to his maniac belief of godhood.
Or perhaps he did not. Perhaps he simply died.
It mattered little. What mattered now was how the disappearance of the strongest Goa’uld would affect the political landscape of the galaxy. Even now skirmishes and proxy wars raged across the stars, pawns and fools being sacrificed daily to ensure positions were taken, agreements forged, and the promises of expansion kept.
And of the Goa’uld, Ba’al was the one to keep a promise and his reputation reflected that.
His footsteps echoed across the empty halls under the ruins of this ancient tomb world, the site of many battles and wars under his purview.
This world was only one example of how far he was willing to go to maintain his grip on power. Once a thriving world of some hundred million, a burgeoning state that Ra sought to control. The Irrasians were leal subjects and while they were strong worshipers, the world was impossible to hold against Ra’s overwhelming forces on that particular front.
It just so happened that some two centuries ago, the remnants of their once great stellar empire were what he found, suffering from a plague that affected them and only them.
When he had cured them of the affliction, a sample of the disease was kept, should they ever rebel in the future.
So when Ra made to take the world, Ba’al let him have it and unleashed the Javorian Pox back upon the Issarians.
Ra was horrified, even leaving behind his invading Jaffa in his haste to prevent what he thought was an infectious plague. From all reports, the Issarians who had not yet succumbed hunted down every Jaffa they could, to tear out his symbiote so to cure themselves.
Needless to say, no one on the planet survived.
The System Lords assumed he unleashed a plague that would destroy his enemies, but also the world. Ba’al did not disabuse them of the notion. Though his domain was relatively small in comparison, it was also well developed across the realm, affording him nominally trained troops to garrison upon every world. Each world did not exclusively produce food and troops, but also warships and naquadah.
And he would destroy each of them in an instant if it served a purpose to gain more power.
This reputation of willingly sacrificing immense wealth to spite his enemies was what made him singularly fearful to be an enemy of.
This was why he felt comfortable to make this tombworld the hidden location of his athenaeum. Deep underground, beneath miles of crust, where the air was often a bit warmer than comfortable, lay a perfectly mundane secret.
Armies of Jaffa were the secret to holding worlds. And those who had the most Jaffa in battle often became the victor.
The thing about Jaffa was their relationship with their Lords and Masters, the Goa’uld. In truth, it was truly a tenuous thing. One that abided to the continued worship of the Goa’uld as gods was the indoctrination from birth to death, generation from generation.
And as it happened, Ba’al was very experienced with the matters of indoctrination. It was how he subverted Sokar’s Jaffa to his cause, after all.
From there, it was only a matter of subverting the tributes of flesh from other System Lords.
Until recently, he had built up quite the supply over the centuries. Hapi, the corpulent fool, sent him near millions of Jaffa tribute meant for Ra for the longest time, at least until a decade ago, when Ra’s spies discovered a discrepancy.
Since then, the tributes have long slowed to but a trickle.
Still, there was plenty of room here.
Ba’al let familiarity take over as his feet took from a single transport ring to the caverns deep under the surface of ruined towers.
As far as the eye could see were uninterrupted lines of sarcophagi. Each held what was once a Jaffa meant to join the ranks of the worshipful warrior elite of another Goa’uld. Ba’al had stolen the tributes of many Goa’uld indeed. A trickle, of course. But that trickle built upon itself over the centuries. Sarcophagi were not cheap, but modified and redesigned with another purpose in mind? As they were now, they were merely glorified stasis chambers that would allow the mind to dream slowly and occasionally become slightly lucid… all so whispers of his indoctrination technology to find purchase.
Indeed, few were capable of resisting such persuasiveness for long, let alone thousands of years.
Ba’al walked along the ranks of his hidden army of Jaffa, relishing the deafening silence that permeated across the cavernous halls that ran the length of the planet.
At last count, he had well over two hundred million Jaffa in stasis in this continent of the deathworld alone. By far the largest concentration, the work of literal centuries of poaching and indoctrination.
Securing agricultural worlds to feed such a massive army had been his primary ambition since the conclusion of his thievery, after Ra had him sacrifice his largest publicly known army… just as planned.
For of the Jaffa he poached, Ra's were ever the greatest, for nothing else would suffice for the Emperor. Chief among them, those personally selected to become First Prime to the Supreme System Lord.
As the Goa’uld approached a dais, the first of the stasis chambers that sat higher above the rest opened and a well built warrior stumbled out, naked as the day he was born. In many ways, he had been reborn, reshaped to serve Ba'al instead of Ra.
Tattoos of Goa’uld script snaked around the arms and legs of the warrior, a mimicry of a cruel Jackal’s beak impressed upon his face. Ba’al waited as the Jaffa’s mind quickly cleared as its brain and synapses came alive.
Then it noticed his presence and knelt in supplication. A quick examination showed that the Jaffa had expressed the proper deference he expected from the most heavily indoctrinated slave.
“Speak your name and of the God you serve.”
The Jaffa’s answer was swift and sure, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement. “I am Anubis. I serve Ba’al, greatest of the Goa’uld Pantheon.”
Ba’al let himself smirk, pleased with the answer.
“Then step forward and become my Warmaster, Anubis. First Prime of my legion.” The Jaffa once again knelt as priests in sepian robes emerged from the darkness, surrounding the warrior with knives and a glowing white hot molten brand.
To Anubis’ credit, he did not cry out in pain. When it was finished, Ba’al saw the golden double scimitars emblazoned upon his Jaffa’s forehead. Ba’al extended his palm, ribbon device glowing softly as he accelerated the healing upon the still painfully hot symbol. Within seconds, it had cooled and the skin was only pink rather than raw. The Jaffa gazed up at him with awe and gratitude as the Goa’uld favored him with a small smile.
It was, Ba’al had found, always better to give servants with small amounts of positive encouragement; to enforce loyalty with gratitude. It cost him nothing, after all.
“
Come, Warmaster.” Ba’al set off, heading to a set of rings with his new Prime in tow.
“The time has come for my ultimate ascension… and you, Anubis, shall see to it that I rule the universe. I see it fit that you be given all the means to enact my will across the stars.”
The rings flash and the two of them are within another part of the continent, deep below the surface where naquadah melted and was smelted into armor and technology. Ba'al brought him to a gloomy room, where a cold metal altar lay. Torches flickered around them, carried by slaves, revealing a dozen priests with glowing eyes and cruel hands.
Anubis made a noise of confusion as Ba’al bade him to sit upon an altar. Priests wielding fresh knives and karakesh of their own surround the Jaffa once more.
This time, however, he screamed.
“Make no mistake… war is coming. With all its glories,” the System Lord intoned softly, as he watched Anubis begin his ascension.
“And all its horrors.”
The Jaffa began to speak, screaming in Canaanite, praising his God for allowing him to become worthy, even as his bones were exposed and refined trinium weave glinted under the low lights of the torches.
“But in the end, there will only ever be one to rule them all.”
Ba'al made himself comfortable upon a throne, idly savoring the praise while he sipped wine and sampled Dashani cheese.
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Author's Note: Many thanks to @AndrewJTalon for beta'ing this scene. Also apologies, I honestly had forgotten to update it here. 
