Adjutant Siduri
***
"Hmph hahahaha! This truly makes even I, the King, unable to contain my exhilaration!"
Boisterous, unrestrained laughter echoed through the grand and spacious hall of Uruk's Royal Palace.
Seated high upon his magnificent throne, Gilgamesh looked down at the two individuals occupying the newly arranged seats before him, his scarlet eyes alight with genuine amusement and satisfaction.
Naturally—after the spectacular confrontation in the Demonic Beast Forest that had culminated in driving away the prying 'eyes' of the gods, Gilgamesh had utilized a mobile conveyance from his Gate of Babylon to bring both Rowe and Enkidu back to the heart of his kingdom.
Having realized the tragic misunderstanding that had nearly led to a fatal clash, he held no further animosity toward Enkidu. They had left the forest with world-shaking momentum and returned to Uruk with spirits soaring.
"In exchange for presenting such a magnificent performance to this King," Gilgamesh declared, his voice ringing with theatrical magnanimity, "I shall temporarily not pursue your crimes! This includes the offense of concealing your whereabouts for seven days, the grave disrespect you have shown me, and the unspeakable transgression of drawing arms against your King! Furthermore, I grant you the special privilege of sitting in my royal presence! Rejoice, and prostrate yourselves in praise of my boundless generosity!"
It had been seven days, and this guy's manner of speaking was still utterly insufferable. Rowe, seated in one of the two new chairs positioned before the dais, could only shake his head in weary familiarity. His gaze then met a pair of bewildered emerald green eyes from the adjacent seat.
"Don't mind him," Rowe explained to Enkidu. "This guy is just like that. It's his default setting."
"Mmm," En-chan nodded, her expression instantly clearing. "Whatever Rowe says, is so."
"..."
It had to be said, while Rowe had diligently imparted all his knowledge to Enkidu during their seven days in the forest, the process had also, inadvertently, deepened the divine weapon's dependence on him to an immeasurable degree.
When he wasn't around, Enkidu was a capable being; but in his presence, she would follow his every word without question. Rowe sometimes felt like he had led a perfectly good, independent hero astray, turning them into something of a loyal, if overly attached, companion. He rubbed his forehead, deciding to let the matter rest.
Having been away for days, he noted that not only had Gilgamesh remained unchanged, but the palace itself was just as he remembered: spacious and magnificent, with towering pillars supporting the massive dome like celestial columns holding up the very sky.
The golden floor shimmered, reflecting the bright sunlight streaming in from the high windows. The throne atop the ninety-nine steps still commanded the hall, facing the grand entrance from its lofty position.
The only noticeable difference was the new seating arrangement—two chairs, for himself and Enkidu, flanking the approach to the throne. Yet, something felt missing... the hall was too quiet.
"Speaking of which," Rowe asked, breaking the momentary silence, "where is Adjutant Siduri?"
He had finally identified the absence. Siduri, as Gilgamesh's chief attendant, was practically a fixture in this hall, often spending more time here than the King himself. Her diligent presence was a constant. But now, she was nowhere to be seen.
"Siduri? Hmph," Gilgamesh sniffed, waving a dismissive hand. "That fool thought she could conceal her weakness from my all-seeing eyes, but my supreme wisdom saw through her frail mortal condition instantly! As punishment for this attempted deception, I have forbidden her from entering the palace for three days!"
In other words, Siduri had finally collapsed from exhaustion after days of overwork, and Gilgamesh, in his own bizarrely caring way, had ordered her to rest.
"So, if you care about someone, just say it properly," Rowe said, spreading his hands in a gesture of exasperation. "As I've said before, men being tsundere is genuinely disgusting."
"It seems that after all these days, your habit of barking like a wild dog from the mud still remains utterly unchanged!" Gilgamesh retorted with a familiar sneer.
"Idiot," Rowe fired back, deadpan.
Gilgamesh's eye twitched. "You mongrel... you foolish cur!"
"Brain-dead king."
"Disrespectful wretch..."
"Gold-plated moron."
"..."
"See?" Rowe finally allowed a slight, triumphant smile. "You can't even speak properly, and you're even worse at trading insults than I am." He stood up from his chair. "When you care about someone, you should use kind words—Siduri isn't stubborn and arrogant like you."
"Hmph! Does this King require instruction from the likes of you?" Gilgamesh crossed his arms and pointedly turned his face away, a picture of petulant pride.
Why is he acting like such a child? Rowe thought, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "Well, I've been tired these last few days too. I need to rest."
As he took a step toward the grand exit, En-chan immediately sprang up from her seat and bounded to his side.
"Rowe, wait for me," she said, falling into step beside him.
Well, Rowe mused, it seems I have another child to look after.
Watching Rowe and Enkidu descend the steps and disappear through the grand doorway, Gilgamesh, now alone on his throne, was silent for a long moment. He slowly closed his eyes.
'Siduri is not like me'...
The words echoed in his mind. In truth, Rowe didn't need to have said them. That young adjutant had been left to him by his father, the great Lugalbanda. She had stood by his side for over a decade, since the very day he ascended the throne of Uruk. Her presence was as constant and expected as the rising sun. Gilgamesh had grown so accustomed to Siduri that he took her unwavering service for granted.
Until just a short while ago—
He had arrived in the great hall before Rowe and the others. In that quiet moment, he had seen the profound, undisguised fatigue etched into Siduri's features, a weariness so deep it seemed to seep into her very soul. And in that moment, he was struck by a sudden, sobering realization.
No matter how capable, how efficient, how utterly dependable she was... Siduri was still mortal.
She was not like them. Not like his own demi-god constitution, not like Rowe who had merged with a divine artifact, and not like Enkidu, a weapon forged from the very clay of the gods.
She was human. And humans break.
"Change my language habits…?" Gilgamesh murmured to the empty hall. Then, a low chuckle escaped him, growing into his characteristic, booming laughter. "Hmph, hahahaha! That fool underestimates this King too much, and he underestimates her far more!"
His laughter echoed with a note of finality. "If this King were to change, then he would no longer be the King he is! And Siduri… that woman would be the first to be disappointed!" A rare glint of genuine respect shone in his crimson eyes. "I hope you can truly stand shoulder to shoulder with this King one day, mongrel… and together, we will welcome that dawn!"
"Rowe."
With that final utterance, the King's imposing presence seemed to dissipate from the throne. He rose and turned, the air shimmering as he stepped directly into the golden ripples of his Treasury, leaving the vast hall in utter silence.
...
On the other side, Rowe had exited the palace grounds. As Gilgamesh's officially acknowledged adjutant—however insolent—he could no longer reside in the temple. Instead, he had been provided with a quiet, private courtyard located a short distance from the royal palace. The issue of Enkidu's accommodation had solved itself; it was unthinkable to house the divine weapon anywhere but with Rowe, its designated 'key.'
However, after briefly settling Enkidu in the courtyard, Rowe prepared to leave once more.
"Rowe, where are we going?"
"Rowe, are these the houses and palaces you told me about?"
"Rowe, it smells so good here, much better than what you used to make…"
I know my cooking is terrible, you don't have to keep bringing it up… Rowe thought, a wave of fond exasperation washing over him.
The feeling of shepherding an endlessly curious, supernally powerful child was becoming a familiar, if slightly taxing, sensation.
He looked ahead. It was afternoon, and the streets of the royal city were still bustling with a controlled cacophony. People moved with purpose, vendors called out their wares, and the air was thick with the smells of spices, baking bread, and roasting meat.
Uruk's commerce was remarkably developed for this era, and combined with the vibrant, magical undercurrent of the Age of Gods, the scene was a vibrant, living tapestry far beyond what any history book from his old world could have captured.
Rowe paid a merchant and took a skewer of seasoned, expertly roasted meat, handing it to Enkidu, who stood beside him. He smiled at the look of wide-eyed curiosity on her delicate face.
"Eat!" he instructed. "Then we'll go back and rest." He had a feeling the coming days would offer little peace, and they both needed to recuperate.
Taking a bite of his own skewer, Rowe savored the rich, complex flavors and the perfectly tender texture. No matter his ultimate goal, he could still appreciate the simple, profound pleasures of life, and a good meal was chief among them. This outing had been precisely for that purpose—after days of bland trail food in the forest, his palate was in desperate need of revival.
"It is very delicious," En-chan said, looking up at him. A few glistening specks of meat clung to her crimson lips. "But… I still prefer what Rowe makes." Her vibrant green eyes, utterly sincere, met his. "It has Rowe's scent."
"…" Rowe swallowed the meat in his mouth, momentarily speechless by the bizarre yet heartfelt compliment. He was just about to respond when he suddenly stiffened, his senses sharpening. He had detected something—a familiar, potent divine aura threading through the city's atmosphere. It was subtly weaving itself into the space around him, not as an attack, but as a deliberate, beckoning pull. An invitation.
"You," he said to Enkidu, his tone shifting to one of instruction. "Go back to the courtyard now. I have something to attend to. I'll return soon."
"Mm, okay." As always, Enkidu accepted his words without question. With her power, there was little in the city that could pose a threat to her.
Rowe watched her for a second longer before turning and stepping away, following the ethereal trail. He already had a strong suspicion about the source.
What could that goddess… Ishtar, want with me now?