Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 125

Chapter 125

Nataek swallowed down the drink lingering in his mouth. Watching Medeus approach step by step, cold sweat trickled along his back. He hastily wiped the droplets at the corner of his lips with the back of his hand before answering.

“He was thirsty and asking for water, but when I tried to feed him normally, he couldn’t swallow a single proper drop.”

“And so?”

Medeus snapped, his voice poisoned with anger.

“So you thought you’d put your mouth on his?”

“What do you mean put my mouth on his? I was just trying to help him drink some water.” Nataek’s tone was full of disbelief. Putting mouths together was a phrase only used when driven by desire. All he had done was care for a sick man—nothing more.

“You…!” Medeus bit down on his lip. His expression, twisted not only with fury but with deep hurt, made Nataek’s stomach drop. It was as if he had committed some unforgivable treachery.

Why is he looking at me like that?

“I only meant… it was like….”

Like artificial respiration, he wanted to explain. But the words stuck in his throat. Did such a thing even exist in this era? Most likely not…

Unable to give any explanation, silence dragged on. It was shattered only by the physician standing behind them.

“There are many superficial wounds. Fortunately, no deep injuries. But I should examine him in detail. This will take some time. Will you remain?”

Medeus answered coldly.

“Call me when you’re done.”

Turning sharply, Medeus strode to the door. He flung it open to find a servant standing there mid‑motion, about to knock. Startled by Medeus’s furious face, the servant instantly bowed low.

“M‑my lord, the meal is prepared. Also…”

Before he could finish, the Soothsayer suddenly clapped his hands. He had somehow slipped far away to a corner of the room, distancing himself from Medeus.

“I heard the envoy of Delam arrived earlier!”

Though the storm was light, the winds of the Persian Gulf were never to be underestimated. Having faced them head‑on, Delam’s ship had only reached harbor late last evening. Samuagon had arranged lodgings for them nearby to let them rest from the journey, so only now had Delam’s delegation arrived at the Kish residence, refreshed.

After finishing their meal in the side chamber, Medeus and Nataek promptly headed for Agade. The silent mealtime had already been awkward, but now, walking side by side, the weight of the air felt even heavier. Nataek could find no way to break it.

But… I only meant it as a medical act, like resuscitation. Explaining that aloud would sound even stranger.

Still, he could not bring himself to speak recklessly.

How do I fix this mood before we arrive…?

“Do you think Smenafishtim might have come himself?” Nataek tested the silence with cautious words.

“Who knows.”

The curt chill in Medeus’s reply sank Nataek’s heart further. Surely he wouldn’t remain like this even in front of Agade’s council? They needed his support, and if their one ally turned on him, Nataek knew he’d be alone. He could guess why Medeus was sulking, yet he couldn’t quite understand.

I already explained—it was just treatment!

But explanations clearly no longer mattered. More than his own defense, defusing Medeus’s anger was priority.

Nataek lowered his pride.

“…I’m sorry.”

Medeus stopped abruptly.

“For what?”

“For upsetting you.”

Medeus turned back.

“And what exactly upsets me?”

“That’s…”

That I tried to mouth‑feed some stranger? The words stuck. Why should Medeus be upset about him touching lips with another? Would I be offended if it were reversed?

After ponder, Nataek thought no—he wouldn’t. It had been to save someone’s life, without the slightest personal feeling. Which meant Medeus’s resentment had other roots—either feelings toward Nataek, or possessiveness.

True or not, voicing such thoughts would only accelerate something dangerous between them. Nataek weighed the invisible boundary between them. Finally, he chose safer ground.

“Because I gave treatment to another without my lord’s leave. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Your lord’s leave?”

Medeus’s expression darkened further at Nataek’s words.

Perhaps silence would have been wiser. But no—the boundary had to be enforced. That was the last shield between them.

“Yes. To act without Medeus’s consent—that was my mistake.”

“…”

Without reply, Medeus turned his back and continued walking.

Great. I’ve only made it worse.

But regret was useless now. Nataek had to almost jog to catch up with his long strides.

Far from calming him, he had stoked the fire. Not a word more did Medeus speak until they reached the chamber of Agade.

Inside, nobles had already gathered. Still, half the seats were vacant, so they were relatively early. On Nataek’s left sat the Soothsayer, and beyond him, the ruler of Umma. Looking toward the head of the chamber, Nataek pondered who else would occupy the empty seats.

Would Delam’s envoy sit beside Samuagon? Could it truly be Smenafishtim himself? And had the flood damages been resolved yet?

Medeus’s face remained rigid. The Soothsayer, intimidated, fidgeted nervously, unable to fix his gaze anywhere. His nervousness only made Nataek feel more self‑conscious.

Thump, thump—

The heavy sound of guards announced new arrivals. The doors opened, and Samuagon swept in with his cloak billowing. Behind him came a figure in dark, richly patterned dress—an all too familiar face.

What? Didn’t she say she wasn’t coming?

A tiny face framed by ornate attire, low in stature—but it was undeniably Shahnabi, princess of Delam. Nataek had expected Smenafishtim. Seeing her instead, he widened his eyes in shock.

Their gaze met, and the princess curved her eyes into a graceful smile. A smile that melted the heart of any who saw it. The stiffness in Nataek’s expression eased as well.

Noticing his softened face, Medeus’s expression only sank heavier, though Nataek at his side failed to see it.

Everyone in the chamber rose in greeting. Samuagon cast off his cloak and sat at the head, the princess and Delam’s envoys taking the seats to his left, while Umma’s representatives sat on the right. Samuagon beamed broadly.

“You have all come a long road. To receive noble guests of two cities at once—what joy this is!”

In his booming tone, the princess replied gently, “Thank you for such a welcome. My elder brother, Smenafishtim, was to come himself to greet Kish’s ensi. But not long ago, the Guti tribe launched a sudden raid from the north. He was forced to remain erecting a new defensive wall, so I came in his stead. I hope you forgive this.”

“Oh ho! Calamitous news indeed. The savagery of the Guti only grows bolder by the day!”

The Guti, rooted in the Zagros Mountains, inevitably cast their shadow on Delam, lying to the west of those ranges.

A few more rounds of ceremonial pleasantries circled the table. Though none said it outright, this was the formal initiation rite for those resigning themselves to become Samuagon’s vassals. Gratuitous flatteries orbited in endless repetition.

Then—

“Incidentally, the Lion of Inanna.”

Nataek flinched.

“Yes?”

Glancing once at Medeus, then furtively at the princess, he realized with alarm: She shouldn’t even know of this title.

But contrary to his worries, the princess showed not the slightest concern. She only winked lightly in acknowledgment.

Clearly she had heard already from someone.

“I hear there was commotion in the market today?”

At her sudden question, Nataek shot a sharp look at the Soothsayer.

You little… already?!

Meeting his contempt, the Soothsayer widened innocent eyes.

Not me! I didn’t say a word!

Samuagon, too distracted raising his goblet of geshtin wine, missed the silent exchange. He set it down heavily.

“They say a foreign noble had collapsed. And that you two carried him away. Is this true?”

He looked directly at Nataek and Medeus.

What do I say? If we tell the truth, will he demand the man? Would he kill him? We still need Ur’s information…

As Nataek’s mind raced, Medeus spoke first.

“If he wore those clothes genuinely, he must be of Ur’s nobility. Since Uruk lies near them, I recognize the emblem of that clan. He may know things of Ur. So I brought him myself. A physician tends to him now; he should regain consciousness soon.”

“Ha ha! Such marvelous fortune! Well done, well done!”

The man seemed to have appeared for no other reason than to aid in Ur’s conquest. Samuagon called it chance, but to Nataek it felt like inevitability. He spun the untouched goblet of wine nervously in his hand.

“In fact, I think it best we seize this chance—wring Ur of its secrets, and then set forth to cleanse the savage Guti from existence.”

At that declaration, Nataek almost spilled the wine.

How long had it even been since the Uruk war? Already?

“The ruler of Umma himself has come to pledge his loyalty. The princess of Delam as well, affirming her sworn fidelity! And with Uruk’s lands already bound into Kish’s domain, the Guti’s raids concern not only their neighbors but us all.”

What is he saying? No. Not this. Every single time, I’ve never once beaten Ur in open war.

And worse—I haven’t even discussed with Medeus or the Soothsayer how to approach the conquest. If I don’t stop Samuagon now, it will be too late. A full‑scale war with Ur must, at all costs, be prevented.

Nataek set down his goblet, turned toward the high seat, and spoke.

“Ensi, may I have a word?”