The King and his merry men

[Ahana Varma]

Walking through the streets, it’s easy to see that the king is going to have his work cut out for him getting this place back into working order. Many of the citizens here—what few of them there are who’ll even dare to leave their homes with a stranger in their midst, that is—are clearly malnourished, if not outright starving-to-death, and I can spot plenty with the same haunted look in their eyes as the female gate guard… though these people make no effort to conceal their misery.

They lost everything when their king was banished, and though he may now have returned, that will by no means undo all that they have endured. There will no doubt be those amongst them who blame him for their circumstances… whether rightly or wrongly, I can’t really say, but even if this Gilgamesh turns out to be just as gentle and peace-loving as one of the rajas who ruled my people in my own world, there can always be arguments made to lay the fault of any disaster at the feet of a monarch, no matter how well-intentioned their actions may be.

Still, despite that, as we head further into Nippur I begin to get the feeling that the people we pass are growing more optimistic. The closer we get to the palace, the more numerous and more enthusiastic the citizens become. That’s not to say that they’re necessarily any fitter or more well-off than those on the outskirts, but these ones seem more willing to try and be positive… I imagine that these must be those who have managed to retain their faith in the god-king, despite his absence. At first there are just small smiles and hushed conversations, but as we keep walking—my guide not bothering to remove his hand from my waist—they just seem to get cheerier.

And then I begin to notice something else which links many of them. A whole lot of the citizens are, for some reason, carrying odd-looking boxes that I don’t recognise at all. Figuring that this handsy soldier might as well tell me something useful, I gesture towards a few of those with them, “What are those things?”

“Uh...”

He looks like he’s about to say ‘people’, or some other dumb thing, so I figure I had best elaborate, “The black, box-shaped objects that everyone around here seems to have?”

I’m not exaggerating. We’ve turned a corner into another street—one which I could almost describe as bustling with activity; it’s certainly a far cry from the mostly vacant hovels of the outer edges of the city… even if the people and the architecture are still in no better condition, everyone is certainly more cheerful… and present in much larger numbers.

“Oh, those. Diplomatic Bureau toys. I left mine back by the gate, actually… hmm… no one better steal it while I’m gone.” the man trails off, lost in thought and utterly ignorant of the fact that his answer was completely uninformative.

“Okay, and these ‘toys’ do what, exactly?” I press, trying to get something useful out of him. I don’t know if it’ll help at all, but I lean into his side some more, smile, and stare up at him imploringly. He grins back and holds me tighter.

Soooo tempted to stab him right now.

He replies, though, so I guess all is going as planned, “They’re called radios. They… uh… transmit sound, somehow. They gotta be magic, I guess. Anyway, the king’s gonna use them to make his announcements and stuff. It’s real important that every family has at least one, so that everyone can hear his words... so according to the guy who gave me mine, seems the Bureau were handing out food tickets to anyone willing to give out their radios for them.”

“Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense.” ‘food tickets’ don’t exactly sound like the sort of currency I’d expect from a first world nation… but the king has only just returned from the depths of hell… it’ll probably take them a little while to get everything up and running, so I guess I shouldn’t set my expectations too high for the time being.

We walk a little further in silence, before coming across a pair of youths who seem to be intent on dashing to pieces some sort of stone idol lying at the end of a narrow, dead end street. I expect my guide to do something about it, since his job is presumably to keep the peace, what with being a guard and all... so I’m surprised when he just smirks and watches as they smash the little shrine, bit by bit, with rocks they're holding; broken masonry from the crumbling sandstone houses, by the looks of it.

My soldier shows no inclination of wanting to leave before they’re finished… it’s almost as if he intends to watch over them, in case anyone else should come along to disrupt their vandalism, so that he’ll be here to step in in support of them, should the need arise. I take a closer look at the little structure they’re demolishing and notice that some lines carved into its face, which I had originally taken to be just a random, arcane pattern or religious symbol actually looks a lot like the open-mouthed head of a snake. It’s still meaningless to me, of course, so I ask my guide about it, who then informs me that the shrine is one of many such idols that have sprung up around the city, belonging to a group which he calls ‘Tiamat Cultists’. Apparently, they worship a snake deity. I then make the mistake of asking what’s so wrong with that.

I realise my error the moment the words leave my mouth; his expression of revulsion makes it perfectly clear. His muscles tense up and for a moment I’m sure he’s going to shove me away. He doesn’t do so, though, even if his visage does remain sour. It could be because he realises that his king places a high value on recruiting Primes to his cause—as evinced by his desire to meet with all of them in Nippur—or perhaps he’s being generous because I’m new to the city… or, maybe the most likely reason given his ‘hands-on’ attitude to guiding me to the palace, he’s just a pervert and has rightly surmised that I’ll be less likely to sleep with him if he throws me to the ground.

He turns away from me and spits on the dusty road, his empty hand clenching so tightly into a fist that his knuckles turn white despite the tanned olive hue of his skin. The fingers of his other hand, the one on my waist, tighten as well, causing small, golden flames to flicker across my skin where they touch me… were it not for my Protections, the brute might actually be causing a bruise to form there.

“The god-king clawed his way out of the Underverse itself for our sakes… he did something that not even Diablo, one of the oldest and toughest Primes there are, ever managed, for this city. We can’t even imagine what he must've gone through down there. Worshipping some heretic god like that is… is… blasphemy. Worse, even. It’s just wrong. It's sick… an insult to the king.” he speaks through jaws clenched as tightly as his fist. He was content at first to simply take pride in his countrymen’s desire to desecrate a ‘heretical’ shrine, but now that I’ve set him off, he looks ready to join in with their fun.

I need to make up for my blunder, though, since I don’t know how much the god-king takes counsel from his people; if he asks this man for any observations on my character and the soldier should happen to remark on the fact that I see nothing wrong with freedom of religion, he may take that as a personal slight. I cast my eyes downward, doing my best to appear sad and repentant, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You’re right, of course, I should have thought before I opened my mouth.”

He relaxes, for the most part, even if he does seem a little tense still, and he smiles down at me, apparently pleased by the act, “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“Thank you.” I lean my head against his armoured chest, my eyes closed, feeling that the impression of contrition I’m trying to convey could use some reinforcing.

For a few moments he says nothing and we remain like this, then he speaks up, “Well, they’re done now, we’d best head on. The king will want to see you, Prime.”

“Ahana.” I say, figuring this should make for as good a time as any to introduce myself, “my name is Ahana.”

I look up, finding him smirking down at me, “Namtar.”

I smile back, and we head off. By this point, the sun has already fallen quite a way through the sky, as the afternoon—most of which I managed to nap through as my cart drove across the Dunes—gives way to evening. Before we reach the palace, though, there is still one more landmark worthy of comment which we pass.

A large building with a big, golden cross on the front wall, just above its doors. According to my guide, Gilgamesh himself summoned this place—this hospital—to tend to the sick and injured of his city, just shortly after returning from his tour of hell. It’s impressive, I must admit. I can hardly imagine how much Omnilium Gilgamesh must have gathered in his time in the Omniverse to have so easily manifested such a building, when I was barely even able to create so much as a tent. Looking up at it is certainly humbling, to say the least.

This part of Nippur is easily the busiest we’ve passed through so far, with all the very sick and severely injured being rushed into the building for treatment, whilst those with less serious ailments crowd around the entrance, waiting for admittance. Though the medics of the city—most notably the humanitarian group known as the Golden Cross, who did their best to care for Nippur’s people in its sovereign’s absence—will undoubtedly be pleased to have such fine facilities with which to treat their patients, not even such a grand building as this can treat everyone overnight.

Before long, we move on again—with my soldier, Namtar, finally releasing me from his clutches, presumably not wanting to risk being seen acting in such a casual manner by his king—and soon we arrive at the gates to the palace of Gilgamesh…

Only to be told that we’re too late.

“I’m sorry.” says the leftmost of the two muscular, dark-haired young men who stand stiffly before us, barring our way with their spears crossed in an ‘X’ shape in front of the doorway, “We mean no offence, Lady Prime, and know that the king requested the presence of any of your kind within city limits, however the hour grows late and he has had to retire for the night. It would not be proper for us to disturb him from his rest.”

“Of course, I understand.” I smile brightly at them as I speak, concealing the slight, irrational twinge of impatience which I feel at being made to wait, despite the perfectly reasonable explanation for it, “Even a divine man must sleep sometimes, after all. May I wait here so that I can meet with him early tomorrow?”

The pair look a little uncomfortable at this request, and this time it is the other guard who responds, “I’m sorry, but we can’t allow unauthorised visitors into the palace whilst our king is asleep… you could wait outside, of course, but the nights in the Dunes get very cold, so I wouldn't really advise it.”

I glance about, taking in the sight of the poorly maintained, barely functioning city, on the off chance that there might be an inn around here somewhere… nope. Doesn't look like it. I do spot something strange, though… sitting by one corner of the palace is an odd statue which I had missed on my approach, as a result of the darkness now overtaking the sky… it had seemed at the time just like another piece of the architecture, but now that I get a better look, I can tell that it isn't simply a mere block of carved stone, but rather an exquisitely forged throne of what looks like it must be pure gold—though, admittedly, with the low level of light it is hard to be certain, even for one such as I, so accustomed to the use of that metal in my own magic—upon which rests an actual human skeleton.

As it hasn't been torn down by loyalists, despite being erected so close to the palace, I can only imagine that it must be some grisly monument to the fall of the city-state’s king. It is hardly something I would have expected to see, but I've come across many unusual idols and icons of various religions in my life, so even one as grim and dark as this isn't about to phase me.

“Of course, I understand. I’ll try to find somewhere more suitable to stay for the night… but, say, if I may ask, what is that statue?” I could see it as having been constructed as a sort of elaborate grave marker after the god-king’s banishment, most likely by a Prime with an overabundance of Omnilium, but it would seem a little odd to me for Gilgamesh to leave it there after his return… I'm sure I wouldn't like a constant reminder of my biggest failure sitting right out outside my home, to remind not only myself but everyone who ever entered that I had been defeated before.

“Statue?” the guard on my right, following my gaze to the corner, as do the two other Nippurians. When he speaks next, his voice contains a strange undertone of amusement mixed with pride, “That's no statue… it's a Prime.”

Just then, before his words have had even a moment to sink in, a bright red light flashes from the thing’s right eye socket, as if it had just opened an eye to cast its baleful glare upon us. Embarrassingly, I gasp and take a step backwards before I can manage to compose myself and present a less craven response. I quickly straighten up and endeavour to conceal my shock, but of course by now the damage is done. This Prime—who will surely be meeting the god-king as well—and all three of these men, must surely have already noticed my fear… should any of them think to mention it to their monarch, that will hardly reflect well on me.

I can't say I've surprised myself by acting in such a manner, though. Even back home, before I lost my indestructibility at the hands of Omni, there were several magi I could not have hoped to defeat amongst the forces of Bhalaee—my homeland—and I am sure none of them could have been close to the level of power one would need to circumvent death. To become a lich, such as this Prime before me would seem to be, would require unfathomable strength… according to our legends, the last time such a being arose, it conquered the entire continent in a matter of months and then ruled for almost a millennium before a band of heroes were finally able to slay it, at the cost of almost all of their lives.

I can now completely understand the pride in the guard's tone; if even an entity such as this would come to pay its obeisance to the god-king, then Gilgamesh must truly be someone of awe-inspiring power.

“Don't worry.” Namtar places a comforting hand on my shoulder and gives a reassuring smile, “We’re all on the same side here, even if that thing does look a bit creepy, it won't hurt you. Now, come on.”

He moves his hand to my back and begins guiding me away. Given that he clearly thinks I'm spooked by the creature’s appearance, I suppose that whatever world he hails from must not have had liches… or perhaps he was simply never educated well enough to learn of them... even though I've never had the power to feel the auras of other magi, as some magic-users can, I am sure that if I could, I would be truly petrified by this thing's might.

As I am led off, I glance back one last time, to find that it has turned its head towards me, that cyclopean, crimson eye tracking my retreat as it observes me coolly from the lofty heights of its throne, in utter silence… though it lacks any sort of expression, I am nevertheless given the impression of one peering with mild distaste down upon a tiny bug, moments before grinding it beneath their heel. My mouth suddenly bone dry, I snap my head quickly back around, not wishing to do anything more to attract its ire… not even accidentally look at it in the wrong way. I fight down a shiver which has absolutely nothing to do with the rapidly falling desert temperatures.

It's only after we’ve put a few streets between us and the palace that it occurs to me that I don't actually know where we're headed. When I ask, Namtar gives me what he probably imagines to be a charming smile, but which is actually much closer to a perverse leer, and offers to let me stay the night at his place… it's hardly difficult to tell what he's after. I do consider trying to extricate myself from this situation—I hadn't really planned on interacting with him at all after my meeting with the king, unless absolutely necessary, so I certainly hadn't seriously considered this possibility—but I ultimately opt not to. Frankly, I could do with something to take my mind off that ancient, decrepit creature with its unblinking, shining eye that seemed to almost be penetrating enough to stare into the very deepest depths of my soul...

And to be totally honest, for a guy who probably has about twenty years on me, perhaps even more, Namtar is still impressively muscled. I've certainly lain with worse over the years… even if his mental acuity does leave a lot to be desired, it's not like I'm looking to him for wit and wisdom.

So I accept his offer and thank him politely, not letting on that I can see through his transparent charade of kindness. We have to backtrack a bit further from the palace, back towards to the gate through which I entered the city, then take a few side-streets to reach the rundown old sandstone slum he calls home. When we do arrive, though, someone else is already there, waiting.

“Mylitta?” Namtar asks, his tone surprised. His partner on gate duty stands before us, scowling. She raises her right hand, holding something up.

“You forgot this.” the words sound like an accusation and her eyes drift over me, her expression scornful. She's clearly realised why I'm here, and either comes from a culture with some sort of stigma against sex outside of marriage… or perhaps she's just looking down me for my low standards in men… in which case I guess I can't really object to her assessment of me.

The item she proffers is one of those black ‘radio' boxes. Namtar winces, “Ah. Yeah. I was gonna come back for it after taking her, uh, Ahana, I mean, to see the king, but then he was sleeping, and she had nowhere to stay, so we, I mean, so I offered-”

“To let her share your bed.” the guardswoman’s words are as blunt and to the point as her tone is icy.

The grizzled veteran freezes up for a moment, then slowly turns to face me, a poorly concealed expression of dread on his rugged features. He's clearly expecting me to be horrified by the suggestion and totally unaware of his intentions towards me. It's all I can do not to laugh out loud. I manage to force my face into something more closely resembling a genial smile than an outright smirk.

It seems to take him a couple seconds to piece together why exactly I’m not agast by his manipulative scheming, but upon realising that I’m completely fine with his intentions towards me, he relaxes and grins broadly… at least for a moment, until Mylitta coughs and he remembers her and whirls back, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left it. And thank you for bringing it here, it means a lot.”

She strides forward until their golden breastplates strike one another with a discordant clang. She's taller than I am, but still has to look up slightly to glare into his eyes. Despite this, and the fact that he's far broader than she is, and likely her superior as well, assuming the Nippurian military believes in the seniority of age, she shows not the slightest hesitation in chastising him. I decide that I like her, regardless of how unimpressed she may be with me.

“I'm not doing it for you,” she snarls, her eyes narrowed to angry slits, “These radios were given out by the Diplomatic Bureau on behalf of our king. Do you realise what that means, you clueless oaf? This is a gift to you from Gilgamesh himself, and you left it lying like some piece of trash.”

“I- I-” his face pales and he shakes his head, wanting to refute her accusation but unable to find the words to do so, clearly not having thought of it in that way himself. Normally I'd likely be content to stand back and smirk at his discomfort, but between my renewed mortality, the harrowing encounter with the crimson-eyed lich, and my need to rely on Namtar for a place to stay that isn't just a tent, I'm feeling a little more willing to act considerate than usual, so I place my hands gently on his big arm and lean my head into it, the top of my skull reaching to just about the level of his shoulders.

“Do you think that just because everyone was given one of these that that makes them worthless? Is that it?” Mylitta barely spares me a derisive glance before her gaze flicks back to her foolish comrade.

“No! No, of course not!” his head-shaking is much more emphatic now.

“You had better not. Listen, I’ll refrain from mentioning this to anyone just this once, Namtar… but if I ever catch you disrespecting the god-king again, I swear I’ll cut you down myself before anyone else gets a chance. Am I clear?” she growls.

“Yes.” he nods, his voice almost a whisper. When I first met them outside of Nippur’s gates, I would have been willing to bet a lot of money that the much bulkier veteran could have easily overpowered his shorter, leaner, less experienced ally, but right now, I'm not so sure… in fact, given how disgusted he seemed earlier by the very thought of another religion competing with Gilgamesh for the people’s worship, as well as his utterly disheartened attitude right now, I'm not even certain Namtar could bring himself to fight back if a would-be killer could convince him that he had somehow dishonoured his king.

She presses the radio into his left hand, since I'm still hanging onto his right arm, then turns to go without another word. We stand there in silence for a couple minutes, as Mr Muscles stares vacantly after the departing guardswoman, no doubt lost in a storm of self-loathing. Whatever other character deficiencies he may have, I think it should be safe to say that disloyalty isn't one of them.

“Oh… I'm sorry, I’ve kept you out here in the cold.” he says at last, when he comes to his senses enough to realise that the temperature has dropped almost to zero degrees... though his tone does still sound a little distant. He leads me inside, through a rickety, cracked wooden door that looks as if it could break apart at any moment, into a fairly wide, sandstone room which seems to comprise the entirety of his dwelling. There's a bed in rather shabby condition up against the back wall, in the right-hand corner of the house, large enough for even a man of Namtar’s size, but not really having the breadth for two people, unless they were lying practically on top of one another… which is no doubt his intention. By the foot of the bed is a chamberpot, though judging by the lack of foul odours, I can assume that it must be empty. Beyond that is an empty wooden tub, which is presumably used for bathing. Finally, leaning against the left wall are two wooden chests, one large, one small, which I'd imagine contain all of his belongings.

To the left of the door, which is on the right side of the building’s front, is a small window, with no glass… or any curtain or wooden shutter of any kind… whether it may have been better at one point or another I really can't say, as it is, though, it hardly seems as if this place offers much in the way of privacy.

Namtar closes the door and wanders over to his chests, kneeling to set the radio gently down on top of the larger one and sighing softly to himself. I walk up behind him and begin undoing the straps that hold his breastplate in place. I have no idea whether he'll want to continue with his original plan or not; Mylitta’s ranting may well have put him off the idea completely. Either way, though, I doubt he'll be too keen on sleeping in his armour.

For a few moments he doesn't react, simply stares at the black radio, but after I've removed the golden plate and set it aside, moving on to the sleeveless tunic he wears beneath without a word, the soldier surges to his feet and slams me against the wall—between window and door—with enough force that I wouldn't be surprised if my Protections were activated. If so, though, he must be too preoccupied to notice, as he doesn't hesitate to begin kissing me, roughly, hungrily… and he certainly doesn't stop to make mention of any golden flames that may have flickered around me for an instant.

I return the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he demonstrates, just as eager to distract myself from the memory of the cold, cruel gaze of that undead horror as he is keen to put off thinking about his perceived failure to live up to his king’s expectations. Our hands roam across one another's bodies, clawing at clothes as we each attempt to disrobe the other as quickly as humanly possible…

***

I yawn, then push aside the arm Namtar has draped over me, along with the sheets, and slide out of his bed, before slowly stretching my body with a slight groan. It may not have been the best bed I’ve ever lain in, with its straw-stuffed mattress and pillow, but it was still better than plenty of other nights I've spent on the road… not least because of the company. The Nippurian guardsman may have all the wit of a turnip, but as I found out all too well, those great muscles of his certainly aren't just for show… and his age does seem to have left him with plenty of experience to draw upon. It was a good night. After which, I'm now feeling a lot more positive about my upcoming meeting with Gilgamesh. No matter how grand his other allies, or how badly weakened I may be… it should still be in his interests to take me into his employ, as I am still a Prime. And therefore, presumably, as Namtar said the other day, I shouldn't really have anything to fear from the lich; what kind of a king would approve of his elite forces pointlessly murdering each other, after all?

I hear the mattress shifting behind me and turn, then smirk. The soldier is awake, though rather than getting out of bed after me, he seems content to prop himself up on one elbow and stare at my body. Turning away from him, I walk over to his bathtub and hold a hand above it, palm downwards, and before long a small orb of Omnilium drops from the centre of my hand into the wooden vessel, then slowly grows to fill it as I focus on what I desire.

I pay no heed to the window behind me as I work on my summoning, not bothering to cover myself up or to look for a way to block it. Neither of us spared a thought for that last night, and given the racket we mere making, any voyeuristic neighbours would have had plenty of opportunity to notice what was going on and take a look, so it seems a little silly to worry about it now.

Several minutes of concentration later, the kaleidoscopic luminescence fades, to reveal the bath almost filled to the brim with scalding-hot water. Like hell I'm going to bother to walk to wherever it is that the nearest well can be found, then… do whatever it is people here do to prepare baths. This house at least doesn't seem to have any plumbing or heating, so I can only assume that Namtar would ordinarily use cold water to bathe… or lukewarm water, I guess, depending on the time of day, since it'll obviously heat up a bit as the sun rises.

“Uh, you don't think that'll be a bit- hey, wait!” he sits bolt upright as I climb into the almost-boiling water and plop myself down with a splash that sends some liquid overflowing onto his floor. It'll dry off soon, as the temperature rises.

“What the…?”

I grin at the shock painted clearly on his face. Everywhere that the water touches my skin, golden flames covers my body. In the cases of little droplets that have splashed on my face and shoulders, the tiny fires die quickly as the liquid cools to a point at which a normal person could touch it without being harmed. Beneath the water, though, my whole body is wreathed in radiant tongues of flame. Namtar’s mouth hangs slightly ajar.

“We Primes were all chosen by Omni for some reason, right? In my case, I specialise in… self-preservation.” still grinning, and feeling a little smug, I lift an immolated arm out of the water to give him a better look at my fire, “These are the Fires that Consume All Harm; my ‘Protections of the Golden Conflagration’. Or just ‘Protections', for short. They activate automatically to keep me safe whenever I come into contact with anything harmful. Neat, huh?”

I refrain from mentioning to him that I used to be far stronger before coming here. I don't know exactly why Omni chose to weaken me like this, but I don't see any reason to make my unfortunate circumstances public.

“Oh. Yeah. Totally… but… uh… do you always take baths like that...? It kinda seems like being on fire would make it pretty hard to wash yourself.”

“Nah, it's fine. I choose what the magic protects, so I can keep my body and clothes from being damaged, while leaving any grime that I pick up vulnerable… and with water this hot, it really doesn't take much effort to get clean… though, that said… no, I don't often heat my baths this much. I just figured that you might fancy washing yourself too, and since this little basin of yours is clearly too small for the pair of us, you'd need to wait until I'm done, so I made it hot enough that it'll still be warm for you.” I don't add that I also just felt like showing off my power.

“Huh. That makes sense. Thanks.”

He doesn't realise—or if he does, then he opts not to point out—that, being a Prime, I could easily just summon him fresh water after I'm done here by expending a little more Omnilium, so I actually could totally have taken a normal bath if I’d wanted to… my excuse for doing it this way really is paper-thin. Luckily, Namtar is almost certainly not smart enough to pick up on that.

Once I'm finished and the water has cooled enough, I get out to let him have a turn whilst I dress myself. After that, and after he's gotten ready as well, we head off to try the palace once again. This time around, I'm not remotely bothered when he slips a hand around my waist. Whilst I hold no particular affection for the big man, I could easily see myself enjoying his company again should I end up with no better way of entertaining myself than simple, carnal pleasures.

The city already seems a little more lively than the previous day, somehow, as if the sense of optimism instilled by the king’s return is a contagion, spreading from person to person, its symptoms strengthening all the while. As we saunter through the streets, I pick up some scattered words from the conversations of those we pass, and several groups of citizens seem to be discussing the same recent events; something about a would-be assassin, a new guard captain, and something called ‘the Black Order’. I don't hear enough to really get a firm grasp on what has happened, but it sounds like another of the Primes recruited by the ruler of Nippur is already making a name for himself. No surprise there; after meeting the lich, I'm expecting most if not all of them to be something akin to heroes out of legend… likely far beyond my ability to combat even at my most powerful. I may have managed to relax enough to accept that it ought to be possible for me to enter the presence of these great magi without being summarily executed simply for having the audacity to approach them without being called for, but there's no doubt in my mind that I will be right at the bottom of the pecking order.

When we reach the palace, with Namtar once again dropping his hand from my waist on the approach, as well as standing straighter, trying to appear as professional as he can possibly manage, I am relieved to see that the enthroned undead no longer sits outside. Though whether it has left completely or somehow moved its vast chair within the building, so that it can remain seated whilst it converses with his majesty, I have no way of knowing. I do consider asking one of the guards stationed by the building's entrance (they’re a different pair from those with whom I spoke the previous night, though once again both are male; it would seem that in this city's culture, soldering is much more commonly done by the men than the women… it's unfortunate, but not shocking; gender-disparities in certain areas of employment are a weakness I'm familiar with from some of the less open-minded city-states I've encountered back on my own world) but I quickly push the thought from my mind; there is no point in seeking to find that out. What would I do differently if I was told that it was still in there? Leave and come back later, this time without the excuse of having to find somewhere to sleep? Not only would that look terribly cowardly, but it could well be taken as a personal insult by Gilgamesh, if he were to interpret my leaving as meaning that I considered my time too valuable to spend waiting in line for an audience with him.

So no, knowing the lich’s situation would make no difference to my actions at all. Once we reach the foot of the steps leading up to the palace, my guide comes to a halt, “I've done my duty by bringing you here, so I'd better get back to work now.”

“Of course.” I give him a smile and a nod, playing along with his act of professionalism, “Thank you for your assistance, soldier.”

Then, shoulders squared and head held high, I stride past the pair of spear-armed guardsmen who stand rigidly to attention on either side of the doorway, and enter the god-king’s palace...