Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 147

Chapter 147

“First priority is to rescue the soldiers dragged to the public works camps.”

Shuran continued. Worried that the goings‑on beneath the table might be noticed, Nataek didn’t dare glance toward Medeus.

I held his hand so he wouldn’t make a scene. Why put it there, of all places!

Nataek wiggled his fingers, trying to get out of the bind. Regardless, Medeus pressed Nataek’s hand more firmly against his thigh. The Ur men, never imagining such a thing during a solemn council, laid out their strategy in detail.

After the Guti assault, most of Ur’s soldiers were killed or executed. Some of those who remained were enslaved and sold off to public works yards. The only soldiers who kept their posts were the few who had gone over to the Guti and Sibiera.

“There are enslaved soldiers in the eastern and western works yards. Among them are the captains of infantry and archers; they’ve led Ur’s ranks for years, so if freed, they’ll lead the men in withdrawal formations. The rankers will move as trained, so our side needs to stake everything on freeing the soldiers.”

Listening, Medeus agreed.

“The enemy is Lagab and the Guti. To face them, we don’t need raw numbers so much as soldiers who know Ur. If they join us, it will be a major help.”

Shuran went on.

“The infantry captain was taken to the eastern works yard; the archer captain is held at the western yard. Lord Nammuwa and I know the way to them.”

Nammuwa, who had been silent, finally spoke.

“Even if they are slave quarters, the guards are Guti. A solo infiltration is reckless. It is best to split in pairs. Since we know the routes, I will guide the east; Shuran will guide the west. One from your side should join each of us, making pairs. That way, there’s less chance of losing the way—and someone to watch your back. It seems best. What say you?”

“A good plan,” said Nataek at once. He felt their linked hands twitch.

Shuran slammed the table and leapt up, then fixed his eyes on Nammuwa.

“In a short while it will be the twentieth day of the month. Every twentieth day, the Guti concentrate Ur men’s labor on transporting plundered resources, setting aside the works. Their attention will be on those amassed stores; it’s the best time to act.”

“I agree,” Nataek replied immediately. After a pause, Medeus also agreed, though his expression was far from pleased.

The discussion ran long. Just before sunrise, Nataek finally wrapped it up and hurried back toward their quarters. Even on the return, they couldn’t relax. Ducking past Guti sentries, sprinting stooped, playing hide‑and‑seek through shadows, they reached the tavern in a state of exhaustion.

Thump—

Nataek shut the tavern’s ground‑floor door. With the mud wall between them and the street, only then did his mind ease a little.

Gods, bone‑deep tired…

He swallowed the fatigue blanketing his body.

“Looks like we’ll be sleeping unwashed tonight.”

As he turned wearily—

“Ah!”

Someone stood in the dark center of the tavern. Nataek jumped. Medeus, who had noticed long ago, was unruffled. The tavern proprietress had been waiting without sleep.

“Are you alright, Teresi?”

“Yes. Ha… that startled me. Why are you still awake?”

With an abashed look, she approached.

“Oh—no intent to frighten you. I’ve been waiting to deliver a letter.”

“A letter?”

“Yes. It arrived while you were out yesterday, but with the Guti around when it came, I feared to draw suspicion by handing it over. I thought to wait till morning, but it seems better you see it as soon as possible. Here.”

She handed over a clay tablet in a box.

He had thought the brainwork was over with the midnight council. Hiding his sour feeling, Nataek took the box and opened the lid. Inside lay a large clay‑tablet letter.

[Secret. For your eyes only.]

On the top line, the script was unmistakably Korean—the Soothsayer’s hand.

More of that chicken scratch to decipher. Rubbing his brow, Nataek glanced to Medeus.

“Let’s go up.”

The Soothsayer’s letter held unexpected news: the princess had arrived in Uruk—that is, the old Uruk region now under Kish.

The reason was that the Nil port lay on the route back to Delam. Under the pretext of returning to Delam, the princess had come as far as Ur’s borderlands, and under the pretext of her escort, had dispatched an elite detachment. It was essentially the princess mobilizing to provide covering fire. Nataek felt genuine gratitude well up.

“With that small frame… in a place this dangerous… We truly owe much to her for this Ur mission.”

“The Soothsayer?”

“As for him…”

[I’m overseeing the canal works you mentioned! It’s no easy task. Leave the Hittite War preparations to me!]

Hearing of the Soothsayer’s whereabouts, Medeus snorted.

“Not that he’s simply scared and stayed behind?”

Nataek let out a bitter laugh.

As if—he’s a modern man with pride. He wouldn’t send the princess to Uruk and then just sit there.

“…Indeed.”

Whether he stayed to brace for some “Hittite War,” or simply to save his own skin, was unclear; Nataek’s guess leaned toward the latter. Whatever else, the man knew how to look out for himself.

His behavior made Nataek all the more sorry and grateful to the princess.

“We should send her a letter directly. Please write it for me.”

Medeus agreed and stood. He quickly asked the proprietress for clay and a reed stylus. They sat at a table, lit a single lamp, and bent their heads together. Medeus took the reed in his large hand.

What to write… Thank you for coming this far? No. If the letter is intercepted, that invites suspicion. Someone like the princess… will grasp the meaning with a light touch, a metaphor.

“Please write as neatly as possible.”

“…Alright.”

Medeus wrote earnestly as Nataek dictated, adding his own thoughts. The contents were dressed to read like a common merchant’s greetings to a noble. Nataek weighed each line as he spoke.

“I was sorry not to call on you—so to have you come in person…”

But Medeus suddenly stopped his hand.

“What is it? Does the phrasing sound off?”

“…No.”

His hand moved again. Nataek watched the writing like a spectator at a calligraphy show—then quickly halted him.

“Ah, wait. Let’s change the latter part: ‘It is a great joy to have you so near.’ How does that sound?”

“…Alright.”

“Then after that… perhaps: ‘Is your place of stay comfortable…’”

But Medeus’s hand, moving slowly, stopped short again.

“Is that phrasing off as well?”

“…”

“Medeus?”

Nataek saw him biting the inside of his mouth through his teeth. He tried to hide it, but the faint movement in his lips gave him away.

What now. What doesn’t he like this time?

Questions filled Nataek’s eyes at once. He opened his mouth to speak—then simply stared, silent. Medeus looked unwell: the slight pinch of his brow, sealed lips, drooping eyes, and a jaw clenched so tight a faint knot formed and twitched.

It’s clear—something displeases him.

Nataek quickly thought it through.

What is it? That I asked him to write? Or that it’s for the princess? Which is it?

Even feeling Nataek’s gaze, Medeus didn’t look up.

…Both? Did I misstep? Should I have written only to the Soothsayer?

Slowly, Nataek reached for Medeus’s hand.

Alright. If he dislikes it, there’s no need to force it.

“It’s best not to send the princess a letter. Give it here. I’ll write only to the Soothsayer.”

But at that, Medeus’s eyes flickered in confusion.

“Why suddenly?”

“Because you don’t like sending one to the princess. It isn’t strategically essential, so if you don’t feel like it, you don’t have to.”

Nataek quickly took the stylus from his hand. Medeus immediately took it back.

“When did I say I don’t feel like it?”

“You just made a face like you did. Don’t force yourself.”

The stylus went back to Nataek again, and Medeus’s pupils trembled even faster at the quick snatch. Nataek only meant to spare him what he disliked, but Medeus seemed to take it in a completely different way. He bit his lip harder.

“I didn’t make a face. I don’t dislike it. Give me the stylus.”

…But you did. You looked like you didn’t want to.

Nataek studied him, then drew the stylus to his own side.

“No. There’s no special need to write the princess—let’s just not.”

He spoke more firmly this time.

Look. I don’t want to make you do something you dislike. The princess isn’t so important to me. I’m deeply grateful she came to Uruk despite the danger to help us, but I can thank her in person when we return. For now, the Soothsayer can pass along our regards. But… why does his expression look even worse?

Medeus looked like a scolded puppy, sulking.

“Medeus…?”

“…I said it’s not that I don’t want to write.”

What? To anyone’s eyes you did.

“Then why that expression?”

Nataek had only put the one he cherished first. He simply didn’t want to make Medeus do what he disliked. Yet the more firmly he stated his intent, the more Medeus’s mood seemed to sink.

Where did I go wrong? Did I… say something stupid again? Is this the time to soothe him, or to explain everything?

But was there anything to misunderstand in what I just said? At what point did he take offense?

Nataek’s thoughts tangled into a muddle.

…Medeus. Tell me what’s wrong, will you?

Footnotes:

1. Public works (gongyeok) – forced labor sites under occupying power control; freeing unit commanders there provides organizational backbone for uprising. 
2. “Twentieth day” timing – a tactical window when Guti attention and manpower shift to resource transport, lowering vigilance at slave sites. 
3. Clay‑tablet letters – period‑appropriate medium; coded content is disguised as merchant salutations to avoid interception risks.