The Crumbling City

[Gilgamesh]

Days had passed in the Dunes and the words the captain had said reverberated through Anos’ head. The words haunted him in his sleep, when he ate, when he breathed. Never before had the servant had to lead anything. His job had been following orders from the King Gilgamesh, any independent thought was unimaginable. But now that the city had turned into chaos, it seemed like no one could fill the void, or at least try and step up.

Anos was lost in thought as he did his usual rounds of cleaning the palace, the last semblance of his normal life. The mindless droning of sweeping his broom back and forth of the marble staircase calmed him. He closed his eyes as the soothing sound of the stiff bristles brushing the smooth marble embraced him. The sound took him back to when the King was in power and everyone was doing their place in his larger scheme. He smiled at the nostalgic memories of the peace that Gilgamesh brought and the stability he provided. He longed to go back to that time.

Anos was snapped out of his bliss by the slamming of the palace doors. A few guardsman had barged their way through the door, laughing with one another. With them, they brought in sand that was caked upon their sandal’s. Without any care, they guards plopped themselves onto the foot of the stairs and began to talk, as if they weren’t on duty. Anos’ bit his tongue out of habit, the hierarchy indicated that the soldiers were of more importance than servants.

“Oh did you see the scuffle between the rebels and some bandits?” All of the other guards nodded in agreement.

“Hopefully they kill themselves off!” The rest of the guards broke out in laughter at the comment. Anos, however, did not find this entertaining. His hand gripped tightly around the splintery, wooden shaft and he grit his teeth. Tossing the broom aside, Anos strode down the stairs with a purpose. The sound of the wood hitting the ground drew the attention of the guards and garnered a few sneers. Anos brushed his leg aggressively into one of the soldiers as he descended the final step.

The guard snarled at Anos, like a rabid dog biting at ankles. “What was that for?!” Gathering all of the theatrics Anos could muster, he swiftly turned before giving the men a scorning look. Their intimidating glares almost silenced him, but he carried on. Brushing himself off, Anos reached deep inside for the most powerful voice he could muster.

“Are you not guards of Nippur? Are you not warrior of the God-King Gilgamesh!” Anos shouted and rose his hand up, making the entire sentiment feel a bit forced. He had no clue whether or not he was pushing it a little too much. The guard Anos brushed against spoke up.

“We are but the God-King is dead. Why should we care what goes on?”

Anos bared his teeth for a moment before speaking with fake confidence once more. “It matters not if he is present with us, for we will always serve Gilgamesh! Upon his return, he will reward those of us who persevered through this hard time.”

The guard snickered before spitting in the opposite direction. Wiping his mouth he spoke with a sarcastic tone, “What are you? A kid? He’s gone forever. Besides, who cares if a few bandits kill one another.”

Anos, trying to sell the last bit of his performance, looked disgusted with the words that came out of the guards mouth. “Do you really have such little faith in our King?” Anos did his best scornful look before continuing. “We need to cull their numbers ourselves to make sure the people here have hope. That they can count on Gilgamesh’s regime even when he isn’t present. If you pathetic lot cannot help me, then I shall go alone.” Anos stormed out of the room, beads of sweat breaking down on his face.

The bright sun beat down on Anos’ face, the beads of sweat trailed uncomfortably down his face. Taking his white, silky sleeve, he wiped the sweat from off his forehead. It doesn’t matter to Anos if any of the guards were convinced by his false courage. Though he didn’t believe most of what he said, he felt that some of it held some truth. The people here needed something to believe in and if it was Gilgamesh’s return...however unlikely, then so be it.

As he began to make steps in the forward direction, the doors behind him burst open with a few of the guards bustling outside to run to Anos. With a bit of shock on his face, Anos turned to greet the few soldiers. Contrary to the jaded and lifeless eyes of the particularly resistant guard inside, these guards had sheepish smiles on their faces and a little bit of life glimmered in their eyes. Anos chuckled at brought his palm to his forehead. He was probably the least qualified person to do this but was all this forsaken city had at the moment. One of the guards shouted, trying to rise everyone's spirits, “Let’s go kick some bandit ass!”

Anos followed that up with “For Gilgamesh!” to which the group responded by following his chant. The group of secondaries, pride in their hearts, went to find the troublemakers. Anos, feeling very out of place, lead the way asking for directions from the soldier behind him. Already he could feel their demeanor changing, they looked more comfortable in a happy way rather than a ‘I don’t give a shit way’. Following their direction, Anos headed towards the West side of town, which was rampant with Proto Mouse sympathizers, ugh. He shuddered at the thought. Who would worship one that brought us into Chaos.

Anos could hear the fight before he could see it. The sound of clanging metal and sporadic gunshots could be heard in the distance. The streets were completely empty, most likely the people smart enough were able to get inside their houses before it started. Anos turned back to look at his little envoy of soldiers, to see that surprisingly the sounds of combat hadn’t deterred their enthusiasm much.

Anos turned to see the fight, many bodies already littered the floor, however some still continued to fight. The two sides were easily distinguishable, with the rebels in a rag tag outfit in which they displayed their rebellion to the crown. The other side was the much less respectable bandits wearing discarded goods and trash as rough armor. Blood was used as paint to decorate their weapons and bodies.

And now what was Anos supposed to do...The soldiers had their weapons, but Anos. He was just a servant. What in the fuck was he supposed to do?! One of the bandits sliced down a rebel in time to notice the squad of guards. He made it seem so effortless, the cold steel slicing cleanly across the rebel’s chest. With a demented look this bandit smiled at the guards, his teeth barbarically sharpened into jagged points. His gritty voice scratched at Anos’ ears.

“Look at what’s on the menu, boys.” Licking his lips, the bandits whipped his wrist, slicking all of the blood off of his sword. With adrenaline pumping through his system Anos attempted to speak, but his mouth was too incredibly dry. One of the guards behind him shouted, “You shall die in the name of the King!” before the rest of them charged. The bandit, surprised by this sudden burst of courage from the guards growled as he was being pushed back. One of the guards was quickly upon him, clashing their swords together. All of the other guards joined the fray, quickly trading blows with both bandits and rebels, while Anos was just standing there. The servant had absolutely nothing to contribute, he was the only unarmed one of the group.

Anos was frozen in his inability, thinking of whether to just leave or to cheer for his fellow babylonians. One of the guards who had pressed forward, however took more than he could chew. Being so deep in the enemy lines, a few had ganged up on the man, forcing him on the defensive. One of the bandits pressing the attack, swung with such ferocity it picked the man up off his ass and sent him to the floor. The bandit went in for a lethal swing, but was swiftly knocked off his ass.

Anos blinked a few times, his fist extended and sore from punching the bandit in the jaw. He had no idea on how he got here so fast and when it had occurred in his thought process. He had no time to think, he was in the thick of it now. The bandit, who had just been knocked the fuck out, had some upset friends who were looking for revenge. The young guard on the floor quickly stood up and walked in front of Anos, wielding his sword in a defensive position.

“We have your back, Anos,” determination and pride was thick in the guard’s voice. The guard continued to block blows from the bandits, while Anos hid behind him. Having the sense of determination and power flow through him again, Anos ducked underneath the guard’s arm to uppercut another bandit, however this time he had a sword through his chest. Pain. Everywhere. Darkness. Incoming.

-------

Anos awakened in his quarters, his chest aching badly with bandages all around him. A woman he didn’t know before was tending to his wound as one of the guards was watching over him. He gave him a weak smile before the guard spoke.

“Hey look who’s awake.” Anos tried to sit up, but pain flared across his chest and he gave up. “Hey hey. Don’t try and kill yourself. You we’re awesome.” The guard continued, “We managed to finish off the rest of the enemies and show that we are real babylonian's again thanks to you.” Anos nodded, his throat felt dry and speaking would drain much from him. “In the future though, I wouldn’t recommend punching as a method of fighting off bandits.” The guard laughed and got up to leave, “I hope you feel better soon. We’ll be needing you.”

Anos knew inside that the guard was right. But punching bandits felt so good.