As it turned out, the 'respectable place' Imro had spoken of was the home of a 'working girl.' In other words, it was the house of an expensive whore. However, despite Gilgamesh's initial disgust at the profession of the home's owner, there was no denying that the house—called a house because it was much more than a shack—was rich, even by Gilgamesh's standards.
It was a rose in a lineup of many thorns; houses on either side were the same precarious shacks with floors stacked on them as the rest of the city, but this house was a true two-story. Leading into it was a wide white stone platform with two steps, obsidian gargoyles snarling menacingly on either side. Marble pillars supported a deep green awning that would've shaded the stairs had there been any sun. The awning was in beautiful contrast with the colour of the house itself; the stone of it had been dyed a crimson and worked with leaves of gold.
As Gilgamesh made his way tentatively up the cool stairs, he was both surprised and relieved to see that the house had no door; instead, a silk curtain swayed gently at the entrance. It fluttered once and he could make out a shape making her—definitely a her—way to the door. He blinked and squinted, forgetting Imro and Rudy for a second.
The curtain fluttered a second time and he caught a glimpse of deep brown eyes thickly outlined in kohl, with full, long lashes rimming them. They were beautiful enough to take his breath away, and he was never one to dwell too long on the beauty of any person.
"Have you brought guests for me, Imro?"
The languid voice was a few tones lower than a usual woman's, and it had a sort of accent that Gilgamesh couldn't place. It twisted the vowels into a higher sound than usual and pronounced the consonants in a staccatoed manner. The accent somehow made the voice that much more seductive, and Gilgamesh shivered, goose bumps crawling along his skin.
Imro bowed slightly, his shoulders suddenly looking much more relaxed, his face visibly relieved to be in her presence.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you've already heard of these two... lords. I was, of course, hoping that they could stay here and lounge to their heart's content until they're ready to put an end to our city's troubles."
The curtain moved to flutter a third time, but long, delicate hands wrapped around it and pulled it back to reveal the woman who'd been speaking.
She was, in every sense of the word, beautiful. She was like a midnight flower that only opens for a few minutes a night, which is forbidden to open at any other time because such loveliness should not be seen in the daylight. Her silky dark hair caressed parts of her back to come to a rest bare inches above her waist, which was curved as softly as a feather. Her skin looked like it had drunken in the darkness surrounding her house and turned it gold; it was shades darker than most people's, but not dark enough to be called completely black. And her breasts...
"My price may be too high for you, young mage. Perhaps a father or older brother would be better suited?"
Try as he might, Gilgamesh couldn't hold back a slight blush at her intimation after she noticed the way he'd looked at her. He quickly turned his eyes away, desperately searching his mind for a distraction from the voluptuous beauty in front of him. She was more than Azra ever had been, more in every way, so he felt he couldn't speak to her the same way he'd spoken to the girl his age.
"Forgive my eyes, ma'am, but I was observing your clothes."
His voice cracked horribly on the word clothes and he felt like it wouldn't be such a bad thing if one of the desert sinkholes he'd heard of opened under his feet at that moment and swallowed him. But the woman's smile was warm and understanding without a touch of pity, and the feeling quickly dissipated.
"Of course. It's not every day one sees genuine Carkovian clothes."
He let his eyes rest on her long enough to take in the clothes he hadn't noticed before. Carkovian material was nothing like any other; it was thin and fluttery, like veil material, and often very brightly coloured. When one went to buy clothes from Carkovia made from the special cloth, it was mandatory that they had it tailored especially for them, as clothes were only made custom per person. Rumour had it that Carkovian cloth was very rare, and some even whispered that it was web from a Pellio, a small demon that lived in dark places and had habits much like a spider.
The base part of the cloth on the woman, made of a deep citrus the colour of sunset, hugged her curves gently, covering her breasts, hips and legs, leaving only her stomach exposed. Even her nose and mouth were covered by the material, which made her eyes stand out all the more. More material, the colour of the sky on a hot day, floated around the base cloth in shimmering contrast, and the entire look made her seem as if she were floating, barely living in the same reality as anyone else.
Imro coughed slightly and Gilgamesh realized he'd moved closer and was studying the material with great interest, his hand half raised to touch some of the excess cloth waving about. He blinked and stepped back quickly with a hastily muttered apology. The scent of her subtle perfume making his head feel strangely pleasant. That must've been the reason he was being so humble, he told himself.
The woman simply looked amused, her eyes crinkling merrily in the corners as she made an expression that, had the veil not hid her mouth, probably would've been a smile.
"It's been a while since I've met a man more interested in the material over my body than what lies under that material. You wouldn't happen to prefer men would you?"
That gave Gilgamesh a start—she'd been mocking him this whole time and he'd been so distracted by her looks that he hadn't been able to respond properly. Realizing his ridiculousness, he slipped on his mask of arrogance and studied her more subjectively.
She was old—maybe thirty, and though she was rich, she was still a whore. And the veil on her face—was she covering up some hideous feature? A large, disgustingly shaped nose? A mouth with irreparable scars? It didn't matter—no one was perfect on the outside, so there was no reason for him to feel uncomfortable. Even he had scars, though everything else about him was perfect.
"Woman, do not dare mock me. I have no sexual preference because sex is a filthy act. Any who commit it as regularly as you do are also filth. Do not even presume that I find you remotely attractive. The only thing attractive about you is your clothes."
She blinked in surprise, then an expression he wasn't familiar with touched her deep eyes. Imro was making a low-pitched moan, but is seemed as if he wasn't even aware he was doing it.
"Tell me, young one, what is your goal?"
The question caught Gilgamesh completely off guard, and it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. Why would she even ask such a thing? And, more importantly...what was his goal?
"To... become the king."
"Oh? The king of what?"
Her tone didn't sound mocking, and for that Gilgamesh felt a touch of respect. Most people would scoff in the face of a young man wanting to become king—it was a common dream, and one that many boys forgot when they grew to adulthood and discovered reality.
Gilgamesh straightened, the small piece of sunlight managing to peek over the mountain playing games with the shadows on his face, giving him a look older than his years.
"Of the entire continent of Teppgo."
Teppgo was the largest continent of the world, encompassing four major countries and a large portion of smaller cities and villages. There was a hierarchy of leaders, with each county having their own 'king', and separate large cities having what was like a king under the country's king, but called a dux. Under the dux were the usual leaders with no special names attached like 'king' or 'dux', who looked after smaller portions of cities and smaller villages. There was no such thing as a king of a continent, because the countries within the continent always fought among each other, every one hating the other three. Any who had ever tried to unite them had been torn apart by all of them.
"I see."
Gilgamesh could read nothing from her voice, though Imro and Rudy seemed to have lost all sense of their jaws, which were hanging open in amazement from what they believed sheer stupidity. Gilgamesh had more or less made up what he'd do on the spot, but after he'd said it, he knew it had been his goal since he'd heard of it from his village wisemen. Any task that seemed impossible excited him.
"I won't ask you how you plan on accomplishing this task, for surely the answer would be tedious and complicated. However, I would inquire as to why you'd like to become king, and what type of king you would be."
Gilgamesh hesitated longer than he had before, turning it over in his mind. There was a deeper reason in his soul for wanting to do it, other than simply to accomplish what could not be done by any mortal man. He glanced down at his hands, smooth and dry, unmarred by callouses or scars. They were the hands of a typical king.
"I want to change the way people live. I want to make it so that everyone does only what they would do in public behind closed doors. I want to give people freedom... but not allow them to hide behind that freedom and use it as an excuse to do wrong."
The interest in the woman's eyes seemed to be fading and she looked away, clearly bored.
"The childish dreams of a boy who wishes to play god. You—"
Nobody had time to blink in the span it took for Gilgamesh to slam his fist into the dense wall so hard that the crimson rivulets trickling from his fist matched the colour of the house.
"Do not..."
He pulled his fist away, ignoring the darkened smear it left against the house. The pain was there, but it was in the back of his mind, and he was already subconsciously numbing it the way he'd learned to do when his parents beat him.
"...ever..."
Imro had jumped but Rudy had grown quiet and was watching Gilgamesh with a strange intensity, as if listening to what he was about to say with his entire being. The woman seemed shocked and even a little afraid of the wind that had picked up and made the shadows from Gilgamesh's hair turn his eyes to scarlet oceans.
"...speak of those filthy immortal mutts in my presence!"
Everyone was frozen at the snarl, as once again Gilgamesh shocked them by insulting gods. Lenla had become quite religious since the Skinner had come, because some insisted that the gods sent demons when they were angered, so to see someone openly insulting the gods was like watching someone call out to the Skinner. Of course, Gilgamesh had already done so when he'd dispersed the mist, but the gods could send worse than the Skinner if angered enough.
Gilgamesh knew this truth—he could read people the way he should've been able to read books, so he knew what people would think of his outburst—but the fact that the entire city had turned to the silent gods to save them made his blood boil. No god would even turn a pitying eye to this place.
"I do not wish to be like one of those low-bred, classless statues! As a king, I will not abandon my people and let them suffer. I will hear each and every one of their cries, and I will do something about them. I will not leave them to their own devices, because they are like cattle that must be led. If I do not lead them correctly, they will stray from their path.
But that's okay. I will know it if they stray, and I will stop them from doing so, while still allowing them freedom. I will lead them—guide them—but I will not shove them down the path. I'll simply guide them to the path and let them know if they're straying from it. That way, I can teach every person in this continent how to live rather than force them into it."
The woman examined Gilgamesh closely and took a step forward. Her perfume was heady and made Gilgamesh feel slightly numb in the head, but he clung to his wits and passions with the care of a florist clinging to a delicate plant.
"Your ideals are contradictory. For one person not to suffer, another will. You say you'll give them freedom, but then you say you will not allow them to stray. You say you're teaching them, but you're forcing them down the right path. You know nothing of this world, yet you pretend to be able to change it with such ease.
In order to keep the balance of this world, there must be suffering. Even if you cured it, everyone will take happiness for granted. What, then, will you do?"
Gilgamesh fell silent for a long time. Imro looked back and forth between him and the woman, clearly confused, the topic too deep for him to dwell upon. Rudy looked as thoughtful as a man with one eye could, and he idly scratched his empty socket, starting in surprise only when the yellow began trickling down his face like hot tears.
"Suffering is a necessity of life."
Gilgamesh looked down at his hand as he spoke, probing his wound and wincing as the scab that had been forming cracked and blood once again dribbled into his open palm.
"When I say I mean to end it, I mean that I will end unnecessary suffering. I cannot put an end to sicknesses, deaths, heartbreak, and pain. Those all come with life, and I don't wish to take away any experience of living. If I wanted to stop those things, I'd also have to stop health, life, love, and pleasure. However...
Parents hurting their children, men laying unwanted hands on women, one person keeping another locked up... these are things that can be prevented. Perhaps not in the sheep of today, but if I can make a continent where the lambs of tomorrow are raised with the right ideals, then you will know change. And I know it is possible. Sheep follow, they don't lead."
Rudy nodded slowly and reached out to lay a hand on Gilgamesh's shoulder. Gilgamesh started for an instant, giving the old man a slightly annoyed glance before his expression softened and he rested his bloody hand on top of the old man's. There was a certain understanding in both of their eyes.
The woman cleared her throat to get Gilgamesh's attention, folding her hands together so that her clothes gently settled around her like clouds. She kept her voice neutral, but there was a certain hint of... interest, perhaps?
"I see. But what of destiny and fate?"
Gilgamesh's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly but Rudy caught it as Gilgamesh brushed his hand off rather roughly to speak to the woman.
"That is no freedom. That's forcing a person into something greater than themselves because you've messed up and need a hero to correct your own misdoings."
It was evident he was speaking of the gods.
"For that reason, when I die, I will smash down the principles of destiny and fate. I will go to the realm of gods and I will kill every one of them if need be. I'm not afraid to get blood on my hands, even if it's immortal blood."
With his fists clenched so tightly, his wound was having trouble scabbing over and his hand was now almost completely painted red. The woman stared deep into his eyes, her own glinting dangerously. They stared each other down for a moment, neither side willing to look away first. Imro broke the contest with a loud cough.
"The question is, ma'am... will you let this mage and his companion stay?"
The woman's eyes suddenly changed to businesslike, and she straightened, giving both Rudy and Gilgamesh a quick once over.
"Once I've gotten some food into them and bathed them, they'll be allowed into my house. Until then, I cannot accept my house being defiled by the state of them."
Gilgamesh glared at her, looking down his nose disdainfully.
"You dare to say we are filth, woman?"
She seemed amused again, but Gilgamesh didn't lose his temper. It would do no good to throw a tantrum like a child in front of a woman who watched with the eyes of a hawk to see if his age would betray him.
"First, my name is Freya, and you may address me as such. Second, I assume you wish the place you stay at to have high standards, do you not, Your Grace?"
From the way the veil across her face shifted, it was obvious that Freya was smirking. Gilgamesh knew that any attempt to rebuff what she'd just said would seem childish, so he simply made a grand movement with his hand.
"If you're already aware of my circumstances and opinions, Freya, then have two baths and a feast fit for myself brought out. I'll expect more than simple bread and cheese, I'll have you know."
She inclined her head a little too exaggeratedly and disappeared behind the curtain, her clothing making soft sounds as it brushed the light material.
Imro's shoulders visibly slumped in relief and he took out a gray handkerchief to pat his sweating brow. His lips were pressed in a thin line, making his skinny face seem skeletal.
"That woman has a temper like fire, sir mage. I'm surprised she didn't lose it on you. I guess it isn't too far of a stretch to say you'd like to be king in this age though..."
Gilgamesh turned to Imro, eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"What do you mean 'in this age'? Is there something that would prevent me from becoming king in ages past?"
Imro ran his tongue over his bloodless lips nervously, dabbing at his brow with slightly more force than necessary.
"You must know, of course, that mages becoming kings were unheard of before this last decade. It was considered too much to be both a king and a mage. That is, until the king of our country seized the throne and made it his own."
Gilgamesh had always thought it a rumour. The 'Witch King' of the country of Lim. A king none could stand against because not only was he a king, but he was considered one of the most powerful mages from the Association. It was said by some that he was immortal, and that no other person could ever rise up to take the throne against a man like that.
"It does seem a great challenge."
The wind shook around him as if in silent laughter.
"But I've promised you to kill them all, my friend. So I'll include that one."
The wind fell silent as if contemplating. It was only then that Gilgamesh realized he'd been speaking aloud. Rudy and Imro watched him in confusion, wondering what he was speaking of. He hastily covered his slip up by turning to the doorway.
"How long does it take to prepare two baths and a meal?"
"Actually, sir mage, though I'm sure it takes less time with magic, it normally takes quite a while."
Gilgamesh waved the explanation away as a figure made its way through the dancing curtain.
"It's about ti—"
The figure was not, in fact, Freya. A young boy—perhaps seven or eight?—parted the curtain with an exuberant kick and leapt outside, giving the three standing there a large grin. A grin that was missing teeth in places, but more from youth than from malnutrition, it seemed.
"Hiya, misters! I heard there's a king and one of his men staying with us! I know Imro so the king must be..."
The boy scrutinized Rudy and Gilgamesh carefully, taking in their clothes and looks. While he examined them, Gilgamesh examined him in slight amusement, reminded of the brutally honest children from his village. The boy finally shrugged and pointed at Gilgamesh.
"I figure it's gotta be you, mister. The old man is too gross. But you're pretty young to be a king... Oh well. If Mama says it's true, it's probably true."
He grinned brightly again, tilting his head to one side, causing his messy hair to spill across his face. He was a strange looking child—his skin wasn't exactly pale, but it was light, and had a ruddy glow to it. Freckles kissed his face and bare arms in large quantities, nearly the same colour as his odd hair. It was a hair colour Gilgamesh had never seen before; it wasn't exactly red but not completely orange either. It was rather like a dark bronze with hints of copper throughout.
"Your Mama must be Freya, but you don't resemble her..."
Gilgamesh trailed off, unsure of how he should address the bright, fairly bouncing boy. The grin never left his face as he let out a loud laugh, his hair flopping back to where it had originally been, which was sticking out in a crazy fashion from the side of his head.
"I'm Makillanellakano."
He said his name so fast that Gilgamesh couldn't catch a single syllable, nor did he feel like it would provide much help if he did. The boy's chocolate eyes sparkled as he watched annoyance cross Gilgamesh's face at not being able to pronounce such a ridiculous name.
"What manner of name is that, boy? Give me a better one to call you by or I'll call you mutt for the rest of your days."
The boy seemed surprised at the arrogance in Gilgamesh's tone, but he shrugged his bony shoulders nonchalantly.
"You can call me Maki. My brother's pretty simple so he can't pronounce my name either. Oh, and neither of us look like Mama. We both look like our Papas. Or so Mama says. I've never met either one of our Papas so I'm not too sure."
Imro choked at the innocent insult to Gilgamesh's intelligence and backed away as if he expected Gilgamesh to tear the child apart with the wind that trembled about him. Of course, the wind was trembling in laughter rather than anger.
"Your brother? What kind of person is he?"
Gilgamesh knew that it would be better to simply ignore childish ignorance. The child didn't know what he was saying so the blame didn't lie with him. The woman who raised him to be so bold, however...
"Maki!"
The curtain was shoved aside so roughly that Gilgamesh half expected it to be torn. The deep voice that had spoken had an odd accent, quite unlike Freya and Maki's. It wasn't like any people who'd passed through his village either.
"I got bathtub!"
The young man who stood in front of them now was carrying an entire wooden bath himself, his thick arms wrapped around it tightly. Gilgamesh tilted his head to one side studiously, examining the hulking boy in front of him who couldn't be more than a couple years his elder.
"I put it here?"
He moved with a strange jerkiness as he made his way carefully down the steps, setting down the heavy tub with a grunt. When he straightened, Gilgamesh saw that he was even larger than he'd first been led to believe. The boy towered above the four others in his presence, and his shoulders were so broad he could almost be called a giant.
"Yeah, that's good, Freb! Now you go get the other one while I fill this one."
Freb nodded and looked as if he were about to leave, before giving a start and turning to Gilgamesh. His face was rather normal looking, save the half-vacant smile he wore. He was obviously the simple brother Maki had mentioned, but he seemed worse than simple—he seemed downright clueless about life. He took a toddling step forward, making Imro and Rudy back away warily, but Gilgamesh stood his ground.
The great beast of a boy made his way up the steps until he towered over Gilgamesh, at least two heads taller. Gilgamesh looked up at him neutrally and crossed his arms.
"Is there something you'd like, boy?"
Brains weren't all a man had to watch out for in an opponent; great strength could also prove deathly if underestimated. And a simpleton with great strength was even worse—many couldn't control their strength so they went all out, regardless of how much it could injure their body. For this reason, talking in a voice that may provoke someone so huge was downright foolhardy. But Gilgamesh didn't seem particularly bothered.
"You glowing!"
The words were stunted and sounded thick, as if Freb had wool in his mouth. But wonder was still easily discernible from them, and he took one hesitant step closer to Gilgamesh, stretching out his hand.
"Freb! I told you not to speak!"
Freya dashed out of the house, her clothes themselves seeming frantic as they billowed around her. Her veil was half-off, revealing half of her face. It was beautiful, Gilgamesh noted begrudgingly, but only for a second because the look on it surprised him.
Her eyes were wide with such great fear that her pupils seemed to turn them black, and a frantic anxiety twisted her face to the point where it seemed she would cry. She streaked between Gilgamesh and Freb and struck Freb's hand so hard Gilgamesh could hear the loud sound of skin against skin echo through his ears.
"Don't you touch him, boy, you hear me?! You go back into that house and you don't come out! You never come out! If I ever see you near this mage again I'll have your ears! I told you not to talk! I told you!"
Her face switched from fear to anger in a split second, and one of her delicate hands cut through the air as she brought it down to slap Freb across the shocked, pale face. Imro had taken a step forward with a trembling hand outstretched to stop her, but halted immediately, swallowing and stumbling back so fast he tripped and fell onto his backside on the cold marble. Rudy even stepped back, his own face a mask of fear when he saw what was going on, as he stared at something behind her.
Freya had been about to strike a viscous blow to the side of Freb's head, but her hand was halted inches from his face by another hand that stood out in stark contrast with her skin.
She slowly turned, her mouth open to speak, but froze when she saw the look on Gilgamesh's face.
His eyes had deepened from the colour of fresh blood to the colour of blood that had darkened under the moonlight on the night of a war. His mouth was curled into such a bestial snarl that a lion would bow submissively and back away with his tail between his legs if he saw it. His entire body was shivering with barely suppressed rage, and blood lust radiated from him like the light from an angry torch.
"Do not raise your hand against your child."
His voice, normally so smooth it would glide against the ear like honey, had become sharp enough to carve gouges into bone.
His hand gripped Freya's wrist so tight that she could feel fingers of coldness wrapping themselves around her own hand from lack of circulation. The fear that had touched her eyes before was nothing compared to the stark terror that seized her entire countenance as she cowered from him, the knowledge of death in her eyes.
"Don't hurt Mama."
Only the voice of someone who didn't realize the danger in Gilgamesh's posture drifted through the still air. The wind itself had gone silent at Gilgamesh's outburst and even the snarls of the gargoyles seemed like snarls of panic instead of guardianship.
"Forgive me, my Lord."
Freya's voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed her. They were searching Gilgamesh's with the desperation of prey looking for a weakness in a predator.
"Let Mama go."
Freb's voice had risen to a low whine as he shook his finger at Gilgamesh, apparently forgetting the fact that his mother had been about to strike him. The expression on Gilgamesh's face slowly faded away as he looked down at the bruise that was already spreading out from his fingers, turning the dark flesh a shade darker with a purple hue.
"Very well. I'll let her go. But I don't think I can forgive someone so low that they beat their own child."
Freya blinked as Gilgamesh slowly opened his hand, and she pulled it back cautiously as if she expected any sudden movements to bring Gilgamesh's anger back.
"I've never hit him before. It's just..."
She averted her eyes, rubbing her wrist unconsciously.
"I'd heard that one of the jobs of a mage was to ensure that the human race survives. In order to do that, I've heard they... they kill people like my son, who are simpleminded. Because they don't want people like my son to reproduce and make more simpleminded people. I thought that if I could hide it..."
She trailed off, shifting uneasily as she looked at her son. There was something in her eyes—in the way she looked at Freb—that Gilgamesh had never seen before. It was like a fierce protectiveness, but also a sort of gentleness. It seemed quite the contradictory expression, so Gilgamesh put it to the back of his mind.
"I see. You don't have to worry about me doing a thing to him, Freya. With that kind of strength, I'd much rather have him as a subject than a corpse."
And that was all. Everyone looked astonished at his nonchalant reaction, but he shrugged it off. He supposed people from the Association should make a big deal of it, but he was so hungry that he could no longer care how he was seen. His stomach chose that moment to let out a growl that could rival an earthquake, and Freya quickly bowed slightly and hurried back into the house.
Freb, who was more or less unaware of the tension that had just coated the air like sawdust, looked at Gilgamesh with an innocuous grin and reached out again. Gilgamesh stood as still as the gargoyles while the boy extended the tips of his fingers to touch Gilgamesh's silky hair.
"Soft!"
His exclamation was shocked and joyous, and he sunk his whole hand into Gilgamesh's golden locks, stroking the boy's head like a cat's. Gilgamesh closed his eyes and let out an annoyed but resigned sigh, shaking his head a bit.
Maki, who had missed the entire affair, stumbled out from inside with a bucket of water that was only about half full. From the amount of water soaked into his clothes, it seemed like the entire bucket had been full whenever he'd first acquired it.
"Hiya again! Seems like Freb likes your hair, king boy. I've never seen hair the colour of gold either, so I hope you wouldn't mind terribly if I touched it as we—"
His voice shook at the end as he unknowingly reached the end of the platform and balanced precariously on the edge of the steps, the water bucket tipping dangerously. Gilgamesh was powerless to stop him from falling—he was too far away to get to before he fell.
"Wind—"
But it wasn't necessary. Rudy moved with a startling quickness for an old man, and managed to grab Maki's shoulder and steady him enough so that he didn't tumble down, bucket and all.
"Thanks, old man! You saved me from getting a tongue lashing from Mama. Hey, we should be friends, you and I! Oh, and the king boy. I've always wanted to meet a king, and this one's a boy only a couple of years older than me! It's great!"
His voice squeaked as he grinned at Gilgamesh, who was gritting his teeth to keep from yelling at the simpleton messing up his hair, and Rudy, who was trying his best to wipe the yellow stream from his withered cheek but failing because it continued trickling down.
Rudy gave up and looked at Maki, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to his mouth.
"Oh, you can't talk? That's okay. Freb can't talk very well so I'm good at understanding people even when they don't talk."
Rudy blinked and his lips cracked in a toothless grin, making him seem like a hideous, grinning skull. Maki finally made it to the ground—after spilling another quarter of the bucket—and poured the remaining water into the tub. It made a hollow sloshing sound, and it had a kind of certainty that it would take many more buckets to fill the wide tub.
He turned back to Rudy, offering his own grin, which was missing its fair share of teeth.
"Great! I'm happy to be your friend too."
Gilgamesh looked back and forth between the two, an idea slowly forming in his head. It seemed that this child had plenty of experience dealing with people who said little in words but much in other ways.
His eyes flickered to Freb, who had finally ceased petting him and was stumbling out with another heavy wooden tub. The muscles on his arms stood out, bulging like a blacksmith's. Despite being simple, the large boned boy was more useful than half of the people he'd met with a decent brain.
"Freb. Maki."
The two boys paused in what they were doing, Freb still holding the tub with an apparent ease.
"I'm in need of subjects."
Freb didn't seem to get it, but Maki clapped his hands together excitedly, his eyes sparkling.
"Are you saying you want me and Freb to join your kingdom?"
Gilgamesh looked at Rudy out of the corner of his eye. The old man was watching him with an expression much more interested than any he'd shown all day. He and Maki had connected immediately, and it was obvious that he'd be happy to have someone who could understand him so well join him.
"I don't just want you to be a part of it. The first people to join me and show me loyalty will be able to stay in my palace as nobles working directly under me. I've already decided to make Rudy my scribe."
It was news to Rudy, and apparently exciting news, as the old man nodded vigorously and mimed writing things down.
"Freb, will you help me build things? With your lifting abilities, I'm sure I can move mountains."
He wasn't sure if Freb took what he said literally or not, but the boy seemed delighted.
"Yes, King!"
"Perfect. And Maki... tell me, what is your specialty?"
The exuberant boy leapt from foot to foot as he turned his eyes skyward in deep thought. It was a good thing there was nothing in the bucket he held, or else it would have spilled everywhere.
"I can read, king boy! Scribes write, but I can be a... a... royal reader or something!"
Reading... he definitely needed someone who could read. Someone to read him letters from important people, read his decrees to the people, read surrender term papers when his enemies sent them...
"Very well. You will be something of a town crier for me, as well as a personal attendant. When I wish, you will read whatever letters or messages are sent to me. I will ensure that you are treated well."
Maki bobbed his head spiritedly, sending tufts around his head in a way that made some parts of his scalp have too much hair and some parts have too little. He had to be one of the messiest looking children Gilgamesh had ever seen. He was the messiest, Rudy was the most disgusting, and Freb was the simplest.
And, as far as his first subjects went, they were perfect.
A/N: If you've read this far, you've got what it takes to become a magic girl bruh.
