Among the gods of the Mesopotamian plains, Ishtar held a particularly unique place.
She presided over beauty, fertility, and war; she was one of the youngest among the gods, and by far the most spoiled and indulged by her divine kin.
Because of that, Ishtar was more willful and capricious than any of her peers—a goddess notorious for being the most troublesome of them all.
Especially for Gilgamesh—
He might look down on the rest of the gods, but when it came to this goddess, he'd rather not see her at all.
And for good reason: Ishtar had once pretended to court him.
The goddess of beauty loved beautiful things, and Gilgamesh was her perfect target—but the young King of Uruk knew all too well the ways of the gods. He understood that Ishtar's so-called "affection" was nothing more than a desire to toy with him.
Back in the days when the gods could still descend in person, Gilgamesh had already suffered more than enough of her "attention."
Now, hearing rumors of her return, he couldn't help but go pale.
It was a rare expression for the king.
Siduri, the royal vizier, stood holding armfuls of clay tablets, each inscribed with reports from across Uruk, her eyes lowered, silent.
And then she heard Gilgamesh mutter under his breath: "That woman again... No, the Age of the Gods is in its final decline. Those foolish, rotting gods can't descend in the flesh anymore."
His crimson eyes, with their serpent-like pupils, narrowed dangerously.
Siduri knew he was activating the highest-level [Clairvoyance]—common enough among magi, but rare to such a degree in a king that it could pierce through time itself.
With it, he gazed into the future, seeking the answer to "now" from what was yet to come.
"So that's it... divine possession?" The glow faded from his eyes; Gilgamesh understood.
The gods could not appear in their true forms anymore, but their nature—higher than the mortal world—still gave them plenty of ways to interfere.
Like sending their consciousness to possess the body of a living human.
Gilgamesh shook his head and looked to his vizier below. "Tch, in the end they're nothing but moldy worms crawling through the dirt. Even now, they dare to give orders to me, the sun that sits above all others..."
"Siduri." He waved, rising to his feet.
"I am here, my king." The vizier bowed.
"They say the Babylonian Treasury is nearly complete. I'm going to inspect it," Gilgamesh's voice was suddenly ice-cold. "If that woman arrives, stop her. Don't let her pester me."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Siduri nodded, asking nothing more.
Gilgamesh had no interest in seeing Ishtar—he knew full well that the goddess would seek him out the moment she arrived, and odds were high that words would quickly give way to violence.
Even in her possessed form, Ishtar might not be his match.
And Gilgamesh couldn't guarantee he wouldn't simply kill her outright.
But for now, Gilgamesh's disdain for the gods hadn't yet turned into open hatred.
Self-centered as he was, he was still a king—and that meant weighing his actions.
"I won't let it trouble you," Siduri promised earnestly.
"Good." Gilgamesh turned to go deeper into the palace, but paused mid-stride, a rare smile flickering over his lips. "Ah, I've arranged for you to have an interesting colleague. He should be along soon. Get along with that mong—no, that man."
"He'll add a little excitement to your dull life!"
"Bwahaha—!"
With a peal of arrogant laughter, the king's figure disappeared down the hall.
Siduri stood clutching her clay tablets, quietly smiling to herself.
At that moment, the palace guards' voices rang out: "Priest Rovi, the king says you may enter directly. No need to announce yourself."
"I understand." A young voice replied.
He really did arrive just as the king said... Siduri glanced up toward the doors and saw a tall figure in linen priest's robes cross the threshold, striding toward the throne.
He was young—a man, or perhaps a youth. Tall and slender, with jet-black hair and eyes, handsome features, and a calm, tranquil air about him.
It was, unmistakably, Rovi.
After reassuring the priests at the temple, he'd come straight here.
His eagerness had only cemented the priests' admiration, and convinced them that Rovi's bold words at the festival were truly out of concern for Gilgamesh's future.
But for Rovi, it was all just about getting closer to Gilgamesh—so he could die.
So he'd rushed here without even changing out of his linen priest's robes, his steps echoing through the vast, polished expanse of the palace as he approached the towering throne.
The great hall was vast, sunlight streaming in, pillars soaring upward, its walls and floors gleaming like mirrors—far grander even than the Pantheon.
But unlike the Pantheon, this was not the legacy of Uruk's ancient kings. This was built by Gilgamesh himself.
It had been forced into existence through his ruthless, iron-fisted rule.
Was he trying to show that royal authority needn't bow to the gods... Rovi wondered, raising his eyes to meet the figure on the dais above.
"Priest Rovi—no, I suppose I should call you Vizier Rovi from now on."
The female vizier spoke up, her voice clear and pleasant.
"Good day, Vizier Siduri," Rovi replied. For those who posed no threat to his plans for a spectacular death, he was always polite.
There was no point in angering her—better to keep life free of unnecessary resentment.
"Where's the king?" Rovi asked, stepping onto the stairs, glancing at the empty throne.
"The king... mm, he's off attending to business." Siduri replied. "But before he left, he did leave you and I a task."
"A task? What kind of task? Is it important?" Rovi paused, his first thought—is this something dangerous enough to get me killed if I screw it up?
Siduri clearly misunderstood. "Don't worry, it's nothing major... just something we can handle with a minimum of effort."
"That goddess won't trouble mere mortals like us."
Goddess?
Could it be...
"Gilgamesh!" A shrill voice rang out from beyond the palace: "Hurry up and come greet the beautiful mistress of heaven, Ishtar herself!"
It really was Ishtar.
Siduri shook her head. "Didn't expect her to show up so quickly..."
Rovi's eyes, on the other hand, lit up.
Even aside from all he'd learned before transmigrating, his experience as a priest in this life made him more than familiar with this goddess.
He knew exactly how headstrong and willful she could be.
He'd just been pondering how to get himself killed again.
It was a pity he hadn't managed a second "death-defying remonstration" with Gilgamesh—but now, wasn't a brand new opportunity knocking at his door?