On we go...a longer chapter this time!
Chapter 5 Daily Life of Kid Gil (B)
To be honest, living as 'Gilgamesh' wasn't all that hard.
As a matter of fact, it was as easy to slip inside as a second skin of mine. Almost too easy.
For example, I am sure I would have stuttered here and then when talking with potential death flags such as my own family which consists of god-kings and egoistical goddesses of war and beauty.
However, I've always felt confident and omnipotent...not only because of my clairvoyance which grants me insight into a lot of things, but also due to how my golden tongue can spam out profound words without the slightest preparation.
I mean, I've always had a silver tongue of sorts, but this...this is a whole new level of charisma and eloquence.
Awfully convenient, aye? I feel I'm forgetting something...
...? Anyways.
Good for me! Gotta keep up the image for little Shiduri, you know?
To the royal hall we go!
I first met Shiduri by pure coincidence.
Yes, I'm not even kidding. I was walking around one of the largest ale houses aka ancient pubs when I noticed a very mellow and rich waft of honey ale...in other words, mead.
My Gilgamesh senses immediately told me that this would bring me, and by extension Uruk, a heap of money if I managed to mass produce it.
So, being the responsible prince I am, I stepped inside to greet the owner.
And there little Shiduri was, buzzing left and right as she collected orders from the customers. Her sandals flip-flopped against the beer-stained stone floor as she balanced several large wooden jugs on a wooden platter.
Her eyes widened to comical levels as our gaze met and her pupils dilated. With her cheeks still red with sweat, she squealed in absolute shock. Her arms jerked upwards, tilting the filled jugs in my direction.
For one split second, it seemed as if the little alewife in training have covered the future king in a shower of sticky alcohol.
If I hadn't quickly recovered from my own shock and used clairvoyance, that is.
Stepping forward, I used my momentum and her own flailing motion to spin her around, catching both of the jugs on the sides of the platter with centrifugal force.
With my hand on her back and both jugs secured, and lifted an eyebrow at her and cracked an amused grin.
"I didn't know that it was custom to literally shower the customer with welcome.", I snarked. Shiduri, being the adorable munchkin she was, opened and closed her mouth like an anoxic goldfish.
"I...I, I, I, I, I..."
Too much embarrassment for one day, I suppose. Her brain was completely melted down. I laughed.
...
...That was more than two years ago. Leaning sideways on my stone chair, I rested my cheek on my right fist and tapped my finger against the armrest with my left.
"Your grace?"
I chuckled and shook my head.
"Yes, Shiduri. I heard you loud and clear. Today's meeting with Shamhat was about the refugees from faraway lands, am I right? I shall see to the education laws you proposed. Good work."
Shiduri's face lit up with joy as she hopped on the spot.
"YES! I mean, thank you, no that's not it, um, it is my honor to serve you! I-I shall immediately notify priestess Shamhat about the time of your arrival! Please enjoy your breakfast!"
With those words, Shiduri bowed and hastily left the room, nearly bumping into a chair while she was at it. My lips twitched upwards.
Shiduri was like an obedient puppy that was trying its very best to please its master. Just in those few years, she has improved by leaps and bounds, both in politics and diplomacy. While she was no Gilgamesh-level intellectual, she was still fairly clever and had a knack for quick thinking.
Another 10 years, and she would be good enough to be my official secretary/deputy...maybe even prime minister? Hmm...maybe not. She'll die from overwork before I do.
I stabbed my fork into my medium-rare steak.
"I really need to expand the culinary skills of Uruk...the food is superb but the processing is elementary. Boiled, fried, or steamed. Needs more sauce anyway."
Yes, that should be a nice promotion for Uruk. Public Relations start with hunger management. Especially in ancient times.
Nodding at my idea, I savored the meat that seemed to melt away in my mouth. The aroma...the flavor...top notch.
How the fuck does this taste so damn good?
Shamhat. Head priestess and divine prostitute.
She was what one would call, a woman that creates a hero.
Long hazel hair with warm chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to invite you deep inside. A wide, welcoming smile that accentuated her dimples. Fair skin that was whiter than untouched snow. A female Enkidu.
Shamhat embodied the perfect balance between lustful seduction and motherly affection, and she was not shy to use her body as well as her sharp wit.
In the time of the ancients, gods from different religions would interact with one another. That practice continued even after the fall of the first civilizations, and while foreigners were a lot rarer nowadays, the practice survived.
Of course, there was a compelling reason for that. You see, foreigners usually meant a symbol of foreign gods. While they may not all be blessed, they still originated from faraway lands and had proven their ability to traverse lands that were filled with mythical monstrosities just by reaching here.
Demigods and blessed warriors? One bad meeting could very much lead to a battle between lands if not a full-blown war.
In other words, granting hospitality to foreigners was a matter of giving face to the other gods. Divine politics and the like.
Uruk's hospitality was of the highest level. Food, drink, lodging, and for men...women.
And for visitors with renown or great martial prowess? The VIP treatment. That was where Shamhat comes in. That was the sacred duty of the divine prostitute.
"Intriguing...the refugee's bodyguard refused your offer? Thrice? Not a homosexual or impotent either? A celibate then. Or someone who sworn off women with an unbreakable oath...or not a man to begin with."
"That was also my thoughts, your radiance."
Shamhat nodded with a soft smile on her lips. I nodded.
"I assume that you haven't yet tried to pry into their past or the identity of his companion? A refugee...hah, it seems that they were so weary and used to being rejected, they didn't even come up with a plausible excuse."
Shamhat deeply bowed her head in reply. I snorted at her antics. She always liked to keep her attitude toward me as reverent as possible.
"Very well. I expect no less. You may show me to the refugee and her bodyguard. Shiduri, stay behind me."
I stood up and patted Ea that was strapped onto my hip with golden chains. I felt a pulse of interest from Ea.
Looks like my senses were right. These guests were not simple.
Now, time to find out.
The first thing I felt was a sense of deja vu.
Two people were kneeling on the carpet, with their heads dipped low and their faces parallel against the ground. One of them had a long curved sword laid out on the ground before her, near my feet.
The bodyguard. A sign of subservience.
The bodyguard and the refugee were of the same height and had a similar stature. I noticed that they were clad in grey cloaks suited for the desert, and they had purple hair that was almost black and darkish skin.
On closer inspection, I realized why I felt a sense of deja vu. Their features were unnaturally similar to the Hassans of the Assassin class. The bodyguard looked like the Hassan of the Hundred Faces, while the refugee looked like the Hassan of Serenity with a touch of No Name Assassin's piercing eyes.
Could they be the ancestors of the Hassans...? Most likely, from their scent of mystery.
Something on the refugee caught my eye. A flicker of her sleeves. A pattern of sin. A stigma of evil. A curse branded by men.
So...that was the case. I 'understood'.
"Two women, one dressed up as a man. Understandable for a bodyguard, yet isn't it disrespectful to hide in front of the prince? Especially for one who is seeking refuge in my city while carrying a demonic curse?"
My voice rang out loud and clear in the deadly silence. I slowly sat down on the throne before them, with a relaxed smirk on my face.
"Well?", I prompted. "Not only shall you cower and hide, but you shall also waste my time?"
The bodyguard bristled a little at my mocking tone but quickly shrank down when a hand touched her shoulder. The refugee. As expected.
"O' lord. Mighty Prince Gilgamesh. My humblest greetings to the divine hero. My deepest apologies for this unsightly deceit and it would be my sincerest wish to explain if you would grant a most generous chance to this undeserving wretch."
Her voice was almost musical. Low, but filled with richness. I lifted my chin and let out a bark of laughter.
"You seem to know some manners after all. Very well. Rejoice, for I shall grant you the chance you begged for. Begin."
Her tale was short and concise.
They were from a nomadic tribe that lived near a desert across the west coast.
Presumably Africa, Egypt...the Saharas? Perhaps the ancestors of the Hassana were from the east? The ancient Egyptians should have already created their own dynasty by now...food for later thought.
The refugee's name was Hasimtee, which meant the royal one in their old tongue. She was the tribe leader's daughter, and she was talented in all things arcane.
One day, a strange disease started to plague the tribe, and one by one, they fell. The plague rapidly spread, and no matter what Hashimtee did, they couldn't put an end to it.
Things got worse when Hasimtee's father succumbed to the illness, and with her greatest protector gone, the survivors started to turn towards sacrificial magic in their desperation.
An Angra Mainyu ritual wannabe, except that this curse was legit in all the wrong ways. Not binding someone as an imaginary incarnation of all the world's evil, but as a sacrifice for the Spirit of Malice in exchange for survival and protection.
And what fitter sacrifice than the purest, most royal, most kind-hearted, and arcane-blessed of them all?
Hasimtee's loyal friend and current bodyguard, Peltah, found out about the diabolical scheme too late. By the time she cut her way through her brethren and stained her hands with blood, she found herself in the presence of the terrible Shaytan inside a sealed chamber.
There are many descriptions of the Shaytan depending on your religion, but one best fit for Nasuverse is this: an evil spirit made of Hellfire burning with sinful souls full of curses yet unspoken, a barbaric god that rivals the archangels, inciting humans to sin by 'whispering' in their hearts.
There was no way two mortals could slay this monstrosity.
While Peltah despaired, her friend didn't. Hasimtee beckoned her friend to her side and spoke to the Shaytan.
"O' great Shaytan, you who devour the sins, you who burn our souls. Here, we present to you my beating heart and my friend's arms, drenched and bloodied with her own kindred. Yet, for you to savor us most, we humbly suggest that you place your heart in my chest so as to keep my heart alive when you taste my still-pulsating flesh, and let my friend borrow your arms to gouge my heart out from my very own chest...a delectable sin, a despicable taboo...by your grace and by your hands."
Thus, the Shaytan was so delightful at the ingenious offer, he readily gave his heart and arms as pleaded and feasted on the maidens' heart and arms with utmost pleasure.
What the Shaytan neglected was that Hashimtee was no ordinary human. She was a mage and a damn good one at that.
When the survivors called upon the Shaytan, they used Hasimtee's blood as a medium to create a barrier to contain both her and the Shaytan until a contract was fulfilled.
Using this fact, Hasimtee managed to turn the lifeblood of their tribesmen still dripping from her friend into the medium, granting them their escape.
Only then did the Shaytan realize what had transpired. Falling into a mighty rage, he cursed them.
"O' I curse thee to wander forevermore from thine home, cast out and despised, for my flesh shall taint thine soul, and on thine deathbed, I shall collect thee!"
...
"...and this is the reason I traveled to this land, far away from my home. Not only to seek refuge...but to fight my fate."
Silence fell in the room once she finished her tale in a hushed tone. Shiduri gasped and clutched the back of my throne, overwhelmed by the cruel fate of the travelers.
Me? How can I best explain this...ah, right. Mirth it is.
"Fu...kukuku...fufu...fuhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
I never thought I would give them the full AUO treatment, but I did.
"The tale of rebellion...of resilience! The tale of struggling against a most opposing Fate! Very well, Hasimtee and Peltah, was it? Rejoice! For I shall grant you passage to Uruk-"
Shiduri whirled around, shock evident on her face. Hasimtee and Peltah's faces morphed into disbelief, then hope.
The security risks? The curse of the Shaytan? By the gods, I am the greatest security risk! What excuse does that give me?
Of course, I have my own price.
"-On one condition. Hasimtee, you shall become my personal mage, while Peltah shall be my shadow. You shall accompany me at all times, and you are not allowed to leave my sight until I grant you permission. Accept...or leave. Be aware that this is the most merciful choice I shall grant you, and only now shall I consider."
Leaning forward, I narrowed my eyes and swept my arm aside in a dramatic swipe.
"Now...decide."
Without missing a single beat, Hasimtee stood up, walked forward, and kneeled right before my crossed legs. Peltah widened her eyes but immediately followed suit.
Once, twice, three times, they bowed, rubbing their heads against the back of my foot. I recognized this as their ultimate ritual of subservience.
And with a thundering voice, they swore an oath in tandem.
""We hereby swear to pledge our services to the next king of Uruk, Gilgamesh the Golden, in the name of our fathers and forefathers, forevermore!""
And so it is, I gained a foreign vassal.
My oh my? Did we just get two (ancestral) Hassans in one package? Shaytan's arms and heart...hmm...
By the way, the power balance between Peltah and the Hassan of the Cursed Arm is the same as Scathach and Cu. In other words, Zabaniya Alternative!
No, Peltah does not have two bulging arms, courtesy of Hasmitee. Hasimtee...let's just say she is the model for one of the Hassans yet to show their face in the franchise...
Oh, I feel a great disturbance in the Horny Police...two Hassans lookalike...mm...
Please review! Or review it anyways! Keep our AUO alive!
X-kalibuuuur, out with exhaustion.