Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 133

Chapter 133

“Teresi. Focus.”

Medeus tapped the kunga’s neck.

“I am focusing. Please calm this beast down.”

While Nataek held the reins, Medeus coaxed and soothed the kunga until it settled, and only then did Nataek dismount.

“It really… doesn’t listen.”

He tried to act composed, but a cool, unsettling sensation still lingered across his chest and lower body. He clutched at the fabric over his pounding heart and gave his hem a pointless shake.

“Are you alright?” Medeus asked, worried.

“…Yes. I’m… fine.”

“Then why is your face so red? Are you feverish?”

Perhaps because of how urgent the moment had been, Medeus seemed unaware of exactly where his hand had landed on Nataek. Realizing this, Nataek was even more flustered by himself.

What in the world… am I reacting to on my own?

Had any other man grabbed him like that, he would certainly have cursed. Yet simply because the touch belonged to Medeus, his body was betraying a different response. He clamped a dry hand over his mouth. Misreading the gesture, Medeus looked even more concerned.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Come here a moment.”

Medeus touched Nataek’s cheeks, forehead, and neck, checking his temperature. Nataek knew what he was doing, but after what had just happened, his skin reacted painfully sensitively to the contact.

“You must have been really startled,” Medeus murmured. The low voice tickled Nataek’s ear, and the faint breeze felt suddenly too sharp to bear. He pulled away from the touch.

“I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s just…”

Nataek dragged a hand down his face.

“I’ll… go wash my face. Need to clear my head.”

He sprinted to the riverbank, splashing water into his palms and slapping it onto his cheeks, feeling ridiculous even as he did it.

Get a grip. Control yourself. If you can’t manage your own body, then what? But… is this really something the mind can simply override?

He scrubbed until his collar was damp and the friction rasped against his skin, grimly wondering whether the difficulty increase of this “chapter” also included a hit to his emotional self‑control.

Only after three full nights on the road did they finally slip beyond Kish’s grasp. The kunga being stubborn had cost them time too. For all its balking, the beast pretended docile as soon as Ur’s gate rose in the distance.

So you do know exactly what you’re doing, huh?

Nataek grumbled at the mount beneath him.

“Hey. You were doing it on purpose, weren’t you?”

Snort—

It answered right on cue. Coincidence or not, with timing like that, it was hard not to take it as deliberate. He’d thought it dull for ignoring orders, but the beast was cleverer than expected—enough to make Nataek reevaluate a kunga’s wits.

“Teresi. Best to go on foot from here,” Medeus said.

Ur’s gate now loomed close. As they dismounted, metal clinked from their bundles. Treasure split between them was tied across saddles and panniers. As Nataek smoothed his rumpled clothing, a system message flashed:

Entering ‘Ur’.

Now more accustomed to riding, Nataek looped the reins over his arm.

“We’re finally here.”

He swallowed hard. Beyond the glowing prompt stood a massive gate—and four hulking guards twice the size of normal men. Between the Zagros forest and the assault on Uruk, he had no fond memories of the Guti. No matter how he tried to relax, his body kept tensing.

“Is there any chance they’ll recognize you?”

Medeus shook his head. “No one recognized me in Kish—far less the Guti. And dressed in Delamite fashion, I’ll pass.”

Nataek scanned him top to bottom. The princess had outfitted him so richly any onlooker would think him wealthy: long sleeves with geometric patterns and fringe, a face‑veil faintly embroidered, and a blue cloak stitched with white and saffron paisley.

“Right… No one would call that a soldier’s look.”

Only the light hair peeking from the hood might draw the eye, but it was nothing to fret over. No wanted posters here, no portraiture. If even Joseon‑era inked broadsheets were hard to recognize, how much less so in an ancient world like this? Even if his looks were dangerously striking…

After a moment’s thought, Nataek slipped the reins over his arm and motioned him closer.

“Medeus. One moment.”

He raised the veil to just below Medeus’s eyes and checked that the cloak fell to hide any gaps. Stray hair was tucked neatly away.

“Just to be safe, we should—”

“Teresi.”

He was pulled into Medeus’s arms. A dull thud sounded from Medeus’s shoulder as someone slammed into them. The culprit wore a cascade of jangling ornaments—clearly a man of Ur—and, despite Guti standing right there, he shouted without fear,

“Watch where you’re going, eh?!”

Medeus bowed his head in apology. “Forgive us.”

“Forgive you? Is that all?”

You rammed us first, and you’re barking at us?

Nataek bit his lip.

Damn it. Not even through the gate and already trouble.

He had no desire to draw Guti eyes to them from the start. Best to smooth it over himself. He slipped from Medeus’s hold and stepped forward.

“Our apologies. We were minding our bundles and failed to see you. Please be generous.”

“Bundles? What—”

The man looked beyond Nataek and Medeus, eyes lingering on the laden kunqas, then scanning their attire. His scowl eased.

“Are you damgar from Delam?”

Seeing his shifting expression, Nataek nodded at once. “Yes.”

“Ah! I see. My mistake—failing to recognize damgar from Delam.”

His tone flipped in an instant. Their choice of merchant guise was proving wise indeed, and Nataek felt genuine gratitude toward the princess for the perfect transformation. He immediately put the Soothsayer’s patter to use.

“Not at all. We should have been more careful. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“Hah! Not a scratch. What do you trade? If you have fine jewels, bring them to my estate.”

Just then, a massive man near him spoke: “Will you keep him waiting? Come.”

The fellow was nearly twice Nataek’s size.

Enormous. People taller than Medeus are rare—wait. Guti?

Nataek glanced at him: rugged features, heavy bones. Even hooded, the silhouette was unmistakable—Guti, beyond doubt.

An Ur man walking with the Guti… an informer or lapdog.

Prodded by the Guti, the suspect Ur man clicked his tongue. “Very well.”

With that, he turned and strode off. For all his earlier swagger and interest in their bundles, he offered Nataek not even a farewell, vanishing into the crowd with his Guti companion. Nataek finally let out a breath.

“I thought we were caught.”

“For that,” Medeus said, watching their departure, “you looked quite calm.”

“I was faking it.”

Worried by the difficulty ahead, Nataek had been keyed up even before crossing into Ur. After three nights of stubborn mounts, his body felt especially heavy. As in other cities, they headed first for a tavern, which doubled as an inn—a place to eat and lay down.

“Is that the one?” Nataek pointed to a building marked by a wooden board.

“Looks like it.”

“In Ur, look for a tavern with a yellow flag. That’s the one.”

A yellow pennant fluttered exactly where his finger pointed. It had to be the tavern the Ur noble had named.

“Shall we go in?”

“Mm.”

Nataek took the lead and pushed the door open—then faltered. Every savage gaze inside snapped toward the entrance.

W‑what…

The tavern was swarming with Guti.