Chapter 22: Ishtar's Invitation
"Hmph hahahaha. This really does make even me, the King, feel thrilled."
Gilgamesh's laughter rolled through the royal palace of Uruk. In the vast hall, he sat high on his throne, scarlet eyes bright with a rare, almost boyish mirth. Below him, two newly arranged seats faced the ninety nine stairs. One belonged to Rowe. The other, to Enkidu.
After driving away the gods' eyes in the Demonic Beast Forest, Gilgamesh had hauled both of them back with a mobile treasure from the Gate of Babylon. Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, there was no reason for him to keep antagonizing Enkidu. He had left in fury and spectacle, and returned overflowing with exhilaration.
"In exchange for presenting such a magnificent performance to me," Gilgamesh declared, voice ringing in the pillars, "I shall temporarily not pursue the crime of you concealing your whereabouts, nor your offenses against me, nor your grave sin of drawing weapons against me. I even grant you special permission to sit before my throne."
He lifted his chin, as if sunlight itself should applaud him.
"Rejoice. Prostrate yourselves in praise of my generosity."
Seven days without seeing him, and he still delivered kindness like a tax notice.
Rowe sat below the throne and sighed. Then he met a pair of bewildered emerald eyes beside him.
"Do not mind him," Rowe said calmly. "He is always like this."
Enkidu nodded with solemn conviction.
"Mmm. Whatever Rowe says is true."
Rowe paused.
He had taught Enkidu everything he knew in those seven days. Combat, common sense, the shape of human hearts. Somehow, he had also taught her a level of faith that would embarrass most religions.
It was fine when he was out of sight. The moment he was near, Enkidu obeyed him like the world's gentlest curse.
He had turned a legendary weapon into a very polite shadow. He was not sure whether to be proud or terrified.
Rowe rubbed his forehead and let it go.
The palace itself had not changed. Massive pillars held up the dome like celestial bones. Sunlight spilled over the golden floor, turning every step into a glittering stage. The throne still loomed at the top, facing the wide entrance like a king staring down fate itself.
The only new addition was obvious.
Two seats, arranged neatly at the foot of the throne. One for him, one for Enkidu. A visible declaration that the old world had shifted slightly around them.
Still, something felt missing.
"Speaking of which," Rowe said, glancing around, "where is Adjutant Siduri?"
Gilgamesh snorted, waving a hand as if shooing a mosquito.
"Siduri? Hmph. That woman thought she could hide her weakness from my eyes. Foolish. As punishment for deceiving me, I forbade her from entering the palace for three days."
Rowe heard the translation beneath the royal theatrics.
Siduri had worked herself into exhaustion, collapsed, and Gilgamesh ordered her to rest. Like a tyrant who refused to say the word "worried."
"You know," Rowe said, spreading his hands, "if you care about someone, you could just say it properly."
Gilgamesh sneered. "It seems your habit of barking like a wild dog remains unchanged."
"Idiot."
"You mong… you foolish fellow!"
"Brain dead."
"Disrespectful person."
"Moron."
The hall fell into that special silence reserved for unfiltered toddlers with divine authority.
Rowe finally smiled.
"Look at you. You cannot even insult properly. You are worse at it than I am." He stood. "When you care about someone, speak kindly. Siduri is not like you."
"Hmph." Gilgamesh crossed his arms and turned his face away. "Does this King need your nagging?"
Yes. Desperately. But Rowe was merciful.
"I am tired. I need rest."
He took one step. Enkidu sprang up at once and trailed after him with quick, light steps.
"Rowe, wait for me."
Rowe sighed softly. Great. Another child.
Above them, Gilgamesh watched the two descend the stairs and walk out through the gate. His laughter faded. For a moment, the King sat still, eyes half closed.
Siduri is not like me.
Rowe did not need to say it. Siduri had been left to him by his father. She had stood at his side for over ten years since he took the throne. Gilgamesh had grown used to her presence the way one grows used to breathing.
Only today, when he saw the exhaustion in her eyes, did the truth strike him plainly.
However capable Siduri was, she was still human.
Unlike them.
"Change my language habits?" Gilgamesh muttered, then laughed to himself. "That fellow underestimates me. And underestimates her."
"If I change, I am no longer me. Siduri would be disappointed."
His scarlet eyes softened, just slightly.
"I hope you can truly stand shoulder to shoulder with this King and welcome that day."
"Rowe."
The King's shadow slipped from the throne. He stepped into his treasury. The hall returned to quiet.
On the other side of the city, Rowe left the palace grounds.
As Gilgamesh's nominal adjutant, he could no longer live in the temple. His residence was a quiet courtyard not far from the palace, secluded enough to breathe in. Enkidu had no place of her own yet, and arranging her anywhere else felt reckless.
So she came with him.
They reached the courtyard, and Rowe immediately turned around and led her out again.
"Rowe, where are we going?"
"Rowe, are these the houses you talked about?"
"Rowe, it smells so good. Much better than what you make."
Yes, Enkidu. I know I cannot cook. You do not need to say anything about it.
Rowe kept his smile intact and guided her through the streets.
Afternoon light soaked Uruk in gold. Merchants shouted. Children ran between stalls. People moved like a river, loud and alive. Commerce was flourishing here, more than later generations would ever believe, and the lingering air of the Age of Gods made everything feel half myth, half marketplace.
Rowe bought roasted meat from a stall and handed it to Enkidu.
"Eat. Then we go back and rest."
The coming days would not be peaceful. He could feel it in the way the world had started to lean.
Rowe took a bite himself. The meat was tender, fragrant, and blessedly real. After days of forest rations, this was practically a miracle.
Enkidu chewed, eyes shining with uncomplicated joy.
"It is very delicious." A bit of meat clung to her crimson lips. "But I still prefer what Rowe makes."
Rowe nearly choked.
"It has Rowe's scent."
She said it seriously, as if that ended the discussion forever.
Rowe swallowed, deciding to pretend his ears had not heard that sentence at all. He was about to respond when his body paused on its own.
A divine aura drifted through the royal city. Subtle, rich, unmistakable. It was not coming to strike him.
It was calling him.
An invitation.
Rowe's eyes sharpened.
He handed the rest of the roasted meat to Enkidu and steadied his voice.
"You go back to the courtyard first. I have something to handle. I will return soon."
"Mmm, okay." Enkidu nodded instantly.
She never questioned him. With her strength, she did not need to be guarded either.
Rowe stepped away, following that pull.
He already knew who it was.
He just did not know why.
"What does that goddess, Ishtar, want now?"
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