At the Rebel Command Camp, Border of the North
Inside Gilgamesh's Grand Tent
"So, you are the one sent by Lugal-Kisura? The one who comes to speak for the Wind of the Border?"
Gilgamesh sat upon his heavy campaign throne, his rubicund eyes fixed on Etan-Hadad, who was kneeling on one knee before him. In truth, that the Northern Satrap had sent an envoy so quickly had caught both Gilgamesh and Enkidu-Sa off guard.
Before allowing the officer to enter, the King and his strategist had spent considerable time debating whether this was a trap designed to lure Gilgamesh into the range of the Satrap's legendary light chariots.
"I am, Your Highness. I serve as the Satrap's voice. I implore the King of Uruk to trust me; my Lord is resolved to abandon the Palace and seek a ruler who values the lives of the people," Etan-Hadad said with deep respect.
"And why would Lugal-Kisura—the man who just made a mockery of Ur-Namu's formations—wish to join me? Why not hold the border and wait for my arrival?" Gilgamesh's voice carried a sharp, playful edge. "After all, he has only defeated my generals. He and I have yet to cross spears!"
Etan-Hadad hesitated, a brief struggle playing across his face before he sighed. "To be honest, Your Highness, the Palace fears my Lord's prestige more than they fear your rebellion. They worry he will use his victory to carve out the North as his own kingdom, and so they have cut off the grain and the silver.
My Lord is no longer willing to see his men starve for a Court that betrays its defenders. He wishes for a future where his soldiers' blood is not wasted on the whims of cowards."
"I see. So Lugal-Kisura is a man who carries the lives of his people in his heart. For that, I find I respect him all the more." Gilgamesh's expression shifted to a solemn gravity.
"Does that mean Your Highness is willing to accept him?" Etan-Hadad asked, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Indeed. If I can welcome a man like Lugal-Kisura—a general who has actually tasted victory against my host—it will serve as a powerful signal to every official of the Empire. It tells them that I am a King who values talent over past grievances."
"Then, if it pleases Your Highness, the Satrap will surrender the northern fortress and all its surrounding lands. His chariots and his spears shall be integrated into your Reclamation," Etan-Hadad said, before adding his final, difficult condition. "However, out of loyalty, the men hope to remain under my Lord's direct command."
Gilgamesh fell silent, the golden horns of his crown catching the torchlight. The silence stretched until Etan-Hadad felt the cold sweat on his neck.
"I grant it. Tell your master that I accept his terms," Gilgamesh said slowly. "When I arrive at the gates of Kisura, tell him to be ready to emerge and hand over the seals of office."
"The people of the border will remember the King's mercy for eternity!" Etan-Hadad exclaimed.
"Very well. Go. But before you leave... what is your name, officer?"
"Etan-Hadad, Chief Scribe and Captain of the Vanguard!"
"Etan-Hadad? A name of weight," Gilgamesh noted. "Perhaps you will go on to achieve even greater things under my banner."
With a final salute, the officer exited the tent and galloped into the night.
"Enkidu-Sa, it seems your shadows have borne fruit," Gilgamesh said, as his strategist emerged from behind the heavy linen screens.
"Indeed, Your Highness. The Palace is so decayed that the more a general proves his worth, the more they fear his shadow. Their own paranoia did the work for us."
"Still... I'm a bit disappointed I didn't get to face him on the field," Gilgamesh remarked, a competitive glint in his eye.
"Your Highness, to win without a single drop of blood is the highest art. We must preserve our strength. After all, the Hross nomads still wait beyond the mountains. They are the true final opponents of your journey. This Empire is a dying beast; we must save our steel for the final war."
"Heh, enough. Get the army moving. We reach the North before the Satrap has a chance to change his mind."