That's right—Rovi suddenly remembered. Gilgamesh's wisdom was exactly what the gods had always wanted.
As a demigod, Gilgamesh had always been the gods' representative among mortals.
The wiser he became,
the more proof it offered that the gods, even if unable to descend to the world in person, could still shelter humanity from above.
As long as that persisted, the faith left behind by the gods would remain unshaken, no matter how many years passed.
That was the very point of the so-called "wedge."
From the gods' perspective, Rovi's actions just now—steering Gilgamesh back toward the path of a wise king—were undeniably significant.
So even though he'd brought the great festival to an abrupt and unexpected halt, the gods had no intention of punishing him.
It was, in the end, a matter of priorities.
But it was precisely because he understood all this that Rovi felt even more like crying.
What is even happening... How did things get so far from what I expected?
He forced down his urge to rant, steadied himself, and looked around.
The temple's light was unchanged; the ring of statues still watched over him. After the gods' decree faded with the last of the divine glow, the priests began to rise to their feet.
"High Priest..." Rovi turned to the old man.
The old priest met his gaze.
Then, with a slow, reverent gesture, he extended a withered arm from beneath his linen robe, lifting the hem as he bowed: "Honor to the divine messenger."
At his words, the other priests immediately followed suit.
One after another, they bowed in respect.
Praised and acknowledged by the gods, with their favor openly bestowed—Rovi was now, in their eyes, no less than a messenger of the gods.
Such a status surpassed any mere priesthood.
In some ways, it was nearly on par with the king himself.
Of course, only in some ways—in reality, the king of Uruk controlled military, civic, diplomatic, and religious affairs with absolute authority, leaving no room for doubt or challenge.
But even symbolic equality with the king was unheard of in Uruk's history.
The problem was, this was the last thing Rovi wanted.
He sighed. "High Priest, everyone—you really don't have to be so formal. I just got lucky, that's all."
The others had no idea what he was really thinking. Seeing that he showed not a hint of pride, they secretly praised his calm, steady temperament.
Not knowing that all the joy was theirs—Rovi felt nothing at all.
But things were what they were; regret was pointless now.
He didn't have the ability to turn back time.
All he could do was move forward—he hadn't died this time, but surely there would be plenty more chances in the future!
After all, the era he'd landed in was anything but peaceful.
It's hard to live here.
Surely dying can't be that hard?
Rovi's spirits lifted again.
"The king commands."
A voice rang out from outside the temple doors.
A tall figure stepped in, helmeted and armored, every stride exuding authority.
He was the king's herald.
One of Gilgamesh's royal guard, charged with delivering the king's decrees across Uruk.
His boots rang crisply on the stone floor as he strode into the hall.
The priests tensed, some growing anxious at the imposing sight.
Is the king… going to punish Rovi after all?
Gilgamesh had never done so before, and though he was known for his ruthlessness, he'd always honored his word in the end.
But those who'd witnessed his wild, unpredictable actions over the years no longer dared guess what he might do next.
Who could read the mind of such a king?
Rovi was just as surprised. Before he could puzzle out what this sudden summons meant, the herald had already swept his gaze over the assembled priests and spoken:
"The king commands," he proclaimed, "Rovi, temple priest—though you spoke out of turn and defied the great King of Uruk, the king is generous and broad-minded; his wisdom shines like the stars, his heart is as vast as the heavens. He understands your intentions were good, so he holds no grudge over your insolence, and will even raise you up."
"The king commands you to serve as his vizier, attending him at the royal palace starting tomorrow."
Typical of Gilgamesh's herald—all pomp and bluster, through and through...
Rovi was speechless.
Part of him was disappointed—this wasn't a punishment at all—but another part was almost excited.
Serving at the king's side—anywhere else, it might be a coveted post.
But with Gilgamesh? That was another story.
Serving a king is like living with a tiger. That saying didn't even exist in this era, but there was no better description of Gilgamesh.
A king whose moods shifted on a whim—there was nothing more terrifying. Any careless word or act might bring disaster.
And yet, that was exactly what Rovi wanted.
Thinking it over, as the protagonist of the world's oldest epic, Gilgamesh was destined to face no shortage of peril.
So after the herald departed, Rovi—the supposed "victim"—was left to comfort the now-miserable priests.
"Gentlemen, there's no need to worry," he declared with a smile. "Serving at the king's side is exactly what I hoped for. If I can help the king change for the better, all the more reason to be glad."
If he was going to play this role in their eyes, he might as well play it to the hilt.
His words brought the others back to themselves.
"We're old men now, not half as open-hearted as you," the High Priest said with a wry smile.
"If we can't compare, so be it!" another priest huffed, stretching his legs. "With all the people in Uruk, who could possibly match him?"
To speak so boldly before the king, and even win the favor of the gods—
There was no one else like Rovi in all of Uruk—or all of Mesopotamia, for that matter.
"Say, young Rovi doesn't have a wife yet, does he? What about my granddaughter..."
"Your granddaughter's only five or six, isn't she? What are you thinking?"
"Well, it's better than your daughter, who's nearly forty..."
The atmosphere grew oddly lively.
People really are the same everywhere.
Even those who served the gods were, in the end, just people.
It was a scene straight out of Rovi's former life, when elders who favored him would start matchmaking.
But as they joked, Rovi's thoughts drifted away—to the palace where the king resided.
Time to work out a new plan...
---
"Your Majesty."
Within the vast palace, up the ninety-nine steps to the throne, Gilgamesh—just back from the temple—opened his eyes.
He shifted slightly on the throne, crimson gaze settling on the speaker—
A woman veiled in gauze.
His current vizier.
"Priest Rovi has accepted the appointment."
She bowed respectfully. "Also... There have been footprints discovered on the altar in the Temple of Ishtar."
"It appears... the goddess Ishtar herself has descended."
Gilgamesh's lazy gaze sharpened at once.