Chapter 37: Deterring All Nations
It had to be said that Ziusudra's approach was, in a blunt and brutal way, correct.
He could not precisely grasp why Rowe did not want him shadowing every step as a "protector." Still, he did not insist. An immortal who had watched kingdoms rise and rot into dust understood something simple. Forcing himself into another person's rhythm only bred irritation. At that point, protection became a burden.
Yet it was clearly difficult to satisfy Rowe's wishes while also ensuring his safety.
So Ziusudra chose the method most suited to him.
He used Rowe's name to erase a nation overnight, making every other kingdom quake with shock and fear, too frightened to move.
Yes, they would not dare to act rashly anymore.
But Rowe could only swallow his bitterness. Was it really a good thing when all his "opportunities" were strangled before he even stepped into the pit?
—-----
"Lord Rowe, this is the alliance treaty we have signed. Please review it."
An aged, trembling voice spoke.
Inside the royal palace of a northern city state on the Mesopotamian Plain, Rowe stood on cool stone slabs washed in sunlight. He accepted the clay tablet from the king kneeling before him.
The moment Rowe's lips twitched into something that might have been a smile, the old man's knees went weak. He nearly collapsed face first onto the floor.
Rowe stared.
This was the fifth and final city state on his route.
The rumor of Ziusudra destroying a nation's nobility in Rowe's name had already spread through the north like wildfire. As rumor, it was full of exaggeration. But the core truth did not change.
One city state had been ruined in a single night.
So whenever Rowe entered a country, he was greeted with pageantry fit for a god and served with trembling, obsessive care.
They were all small kingdoms.
Each one feared being the next to vanish.
Naturally, each one hurried to present an alliance tablet and recognize Uruk as their suzerain.
These countries had followed Akkad in the first place because they believed Uruk was too busy to deal with them. They hoped to ride Akkad's coattails, seize a share of the chaos, maybe even leap from minor city state into a regional power.
But Rowe's destruction of a nation proved something far more terrifying than Uruk's "spare capacity."
Uruk still had overwhelming capacity.
Enough to erase nobles, officials, soldiers, and commoners within a single night.
All living beings honor strength by instinct.
Rowe's journey ended smoothly, perfectly, and without even a fraction of the resistance he had expected.
When he stepped out of the palace gate into the street, low buildings huddled under dust and sun, like people lying prostrate on the earth. Compared to Uruk, these cities were pitiful in scale and prosperity.
But Rowe was not looking at the streets.
He was looking at the figure waiting beside the gate.
The old man who had stayed close since the night of national destruction.
"It seems your journey was very smooth," Ziusudra said. His voice was hoarse and deep, like wind sliding through a tomb.
Ziusudra had already discarded the monstrous armor and pale mask of his earlier "assassin" guise. He was once more a hunched old hermit in tattered cloth, stepping out from shadow like a wandering ghost.
"Not only these five city states. Even Akkad has submitted an alliance tablet to Uruk."
"Now we can return."
The old man's beard trembled with a smile. Then he looked at Rowe, puzzled.
"But you do not seem happy?"
Happy?
Rowe felt the words scrape his throat like dry sand. Tears were churning somewhere deep in his stomach, but his face stayed flat.
"What is there to be happy about?" he replied.
"Hahaha. Is it because everything was too easy, so it feels unreal?" Ziusudra misunderstood instantly. "It does not matter. Once you live as long as I have, you stop caring whether the world feels real or not."
Having lived too long and seen too much, the world in Ziusudra's eyes had already taken on a different weight.
"Out of curiosity," Rowe asked, "how long have you lived?"
The Great Flood of ancient times was known to all, but its exact date was lost to myth.
"In the Underworld there is no sun or moon," Ziusudra said, rubbing his chin under the hood. "So this old man cannot say precisely. Roughly five or six thousand years, perhaps."
Rowe went quiet.
Ziusudra glanced at him and continued, misunderstanding again.
"Do not think too much. Long lived beings are special remnants of the Great Disaster era. Now that the gods can hardly enter the world, such things are nearly extinct."
"As far as I know, in this vast plain there may be only one or two of such existences left. The chance of finding them is extremely slim."
"Do not covet what does not belong to you."
Clearly, he thought Rowe was pondering immortality.
Never mind.
Rowe did not bother explaining. He patted his linen robe, shaking off dust.
Then he looked back.
At the palace gate, nobles, priests, generals, and the king still stood frozen, trembling, waiting for Rowe to truly disappear before they dared so much as breathe.
Rowe paused, then let out a light laugh.
"Indeed, just as Gilgamesh said."
He waved his hand casually.
"An alliance against Uruk? Nothing but a joke."
"A pack of petty individuals daring to call themselves eminent."
His figure faded into the distance with that scornful chuckle.
He arrived with every eye on him, a storm that made thousands bow.
He left even more unrestrained, and still no one dared show the slightest anger.
After all, his name could wipe out a nation overnight.
He had become a terror across the northern lands, and even across the entire plain.
Even if you gathered ten thousand soldiers, who would dare lift a blade in front of him?
…
"Hmph, hahaha, truly worthy of being someone this King values!"
High atop the steps of Uruk's royal palace, Gilgamesh looked down at the five alliance tablets resting in the golden ripple of the Gate of Babylon before him. Weariness tugged at his face, but the laughter that burst out was bright and satisfied.
Rowe had placed those tablets inside the Gate of Babylon as a transfer point, allowing Gilgamesh to retrieve them instantly.
Along with the clay tablets, Gilgamesh had also received reports about Rowe's actions in the north.
He looked pleased. More than pleased.
"Before he left, this King was curious what method he would use to deal with those scoundrels."
"Indeed, only such decisive and clean measures can display this King's glory."
"The lands ruled by this King should not be only warm and gentle. They must also carry the storm that destroys all disloyalty!"
Siduri smiled as well.
To be honest, Rowe had done brilliantly this time.
He destroyed one city state as a warning.
After that, he was polite and courteous to the others.
With destruction as the preface, his politeness was not seen as weakness. It became magnanimity.
Strength, then mercy.
Siduri knew herself. Even if she stood in Rowe's position, she could not have achieved that balance.
Not because she lacked ability.
Because she lacked that strange, reckless "spirit" that Rowe carried like a blade under his ribs.
Still, she felt no unease.
She had long understood Rowe's uniqueness.
Someone who could stand beside the King was always going to be like this.
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