Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 134

Chapter 134

Was this the wrong place?

As Nataek quickly gauged the room, a gentle voice called them.

“Welcome! Please, this way!”

The proprietress waved them in urgently toward a back table. Nataek and Medeus hadn’t come to just any tavern; this was the very one Pumarsin had named. Unaware of their purpose, the owner, anxious not to lose customers, hurried them to seats. As soon as they sat, she whispered,

“Because of those rough patrons, we keep separate seats for guests from outside. If this inner table is uncomfortable, I could move you to the center, but…”

She glanced nervously at the Guti‑packed center tables. Though she offered, she clearly disliked placing foreign guests among the Guti.

“This is fine,” said Medeus.

“Of course. And what will you have?”

She tapped the corner of the wooden table where a menu was incised in cuneiform. Nataek, unable to read, waited for Medeus.

“Grilled rat, rabbit head, pickled wildfowl… Is this the entire menu?”

Seeing Medeus’s face, Nataek’s grew equally grim. Grilled rat? Rabbit head?

“Please don’t worry,” the owner said quickly, leaning close. “These are all Guti‑style dishes. If I don’t post things like this, they threaten me to serve foods I’ve never even heard of. I’ve only carved what I can manage—but tell me what you want and I can make other things off‑menu.”

Medeus rested his chin on his hand and glanced at Nataek. “Then we’d like lamb stew and roasted potatoes.”

“Oh, certainly! I can make that!”

Her face brightened. “Our most popular dish used to be lamb stew. I’ll bring it quickly—been so long since I’ve had such an order.”

She bustled to the kitchen. The Guti, satisfied these two were ordinary damgar, returned to their loud chatter. Nataek leaned toward Medeus.

“A tavern is where people gather most, right?”

“Right.”

“Yet it’s full of Guti. Where are the townsfolk?”

“Likely sent to work on public projects, driven into forced labor… or dead.”

“Hm…”

Nataek frowned. The Guti were harsh and hard to deal with. To learn about Ur, help from its own people would be best.

“What do you make of the owner? Still Ur’s person?”

“You mean whether she’s thrown in with the Guti?”

Nataek nodded. With Guti swarming like this, the tavern felt like one of their bases. Non‑Guti were scarce. It was plausible the owner had sworn loyalty to them. Nataek fingered the hidden necklace at his chest.

“Best to hold off mentioning Pumarsin for now.”

Medeus agreed. As they sank into thought, a shout rose at the center tables.

“Bwahaha! You actually did that?”

“Yeah! You rear‑guard fools didn’t see it, huh? You should’ve seen Ur’s ensi—crawling on blood‑soaked ground!”

Nataek pricked up his ears. A loud Guti grabbed a chunk of meat with his hand.

“Who’d have thought he’d get away like that? That Nammu‑wa bastard… should’ve had his hair grabbed and his head stomped to pulp!”

The Guti roared with laughter. Nataek couldn’t fathom the humor; neither, it seemed, could Medeus, who drank his sikar without a twitch of irony.

Guti… savages as cruel as they are base.

Irritation creased Nataek’s face. He shifted his gaze to a dark corner—one more table sat there, unlit. What he’d taken as a wall was the bulk of a large man, hooded in a black cloak. Despite sitting perfectly shrouded in shadow, Nataek sensed him because of the sudden flare of killing intent. The sikar cup in the man’s hand rattled faintly against the table.

Who? He’s big… but not Guti, it seems.

Nataek leaned toward Medeus. “Back there…”

Before he could finish, the man stood abruptly and strode toward the Guti at center—his target not Nataek and Medeus. The floor seemed to thud with each step. As he passed Medeus—

Crash!

He sprawled to the floor with a clatter. Nataek’s eyes dropped. Though Medeus sat straight only a moment ago, a leg had slid out—he’d hooked the man’s foot.

Every eye in the tavern swung to their table.

“Damn it!” the man barked, face flushed.

“My apologies,” Medeus said with a perfunctory nod, sincerity nowhere to be found. The man’s anger flared hotter.

“You did that on purpose—!”

“Please, one moment,” the owner burst in between them. “Roasted potatoes—hot! Please step aside!”

From his seat opposite, Nataek took in everything: the obliviously bustling proprietor, Medeus’s calm face, the man ready to explode. One spark and they’d have a brawl.

If this continues, it’ll blow.

Anxious, Nataek grabbed a potato. “I’m truly sorry—ah, hot!” Steam billowed from the split skin, but he held on. “Let me apologize on our behalf. Would you like a potato?”

Juggling the scalding tuber from hand to hand, he held it out. The man stared, dumbfounded.

“…No. Unbelievable. You eat it.”

He stood, dusted his clothes, shot a savage glare at the owner and Medeus, and marched to the door. A heavy thud—and he was gone. Nataek finally set the potato down.

Gods, that’s hot.

As he blew on his stinging palms, Medeus pulled his hands closer. “Why offer a potato?”

“If I hadn’t cut in somehow, that was going to turn into a fight.”

Satisfied there was no burn, Medeus released him. Nataek rubbed his palms and asked, “Why did you do that? We nearly drew attention.”

“Left alone, he would’ve drawn attention,” Medeus said.

“Of course—he was radiating bloodlust walking straight at them. Still, it’s not our place to mind a stranger’s business.”

“If his gait hadn’t been a soldier’s, I’d have ignored him.”

Nataek started, leaning in closer. “What do you mean—a soldier?”

Medeus tapped the table lightly. The noise swallowed the faint vibration; Nataek fixed on Medeus’s lips.

“There are houses that produce high generals for generations. Their boys are trained from youth—gait, voice, the lot—until it’s second nature. To lead vast numbers in ancient war, you must stride and command with your body and voice; the bearing shows in every step.”

He continued, “Such men walk differently from common troops. Only soldiers notice it—but that one had it. When I hooked him, he rolled his body to recover, fast. Not ordinary. And if he’s an Ur man… it means more.”

If true, then here was an Ur officer—dispossessed by barbarians—who still hadn’t left his city, bold enough to stride into a Guti den alone. A man with that kind of nerve, still prowling here…

“He must have a purpose for staying. Something left behind?”

“If so, he wouldn’t charge into their talk like that,” Medeus said.

“Then another aim. Revenge? Or…”

If he were truly a high officer sworn to Ur, his reaction made sense; how could he endure hearing his ruler mocked?

“He may wish to reclaim his city,” Medeus said.

And with that, a phrase flashed through Nataek’s mind—the title of their current quest.

Hidden Ally…