Chapter 1.13: The Flood of Akkad
The king did not seem terribly pleased when you returned Rimush’s head to him, though he commended you for following his orders. His other gambit involving the tunnel had failed. The men in the tunnel had apparently been killed by a fire-breathing beast, and a sole survivor was left to tell the tale. That did not concern you right now, however. With the walls taken, Sargon’s army was free to liberate the gates. What was meant as a suicidal distraction had turned out to be the impetus for your victory. Most of the enemy soldiers had scattered during the assault on the walls, and there was virtually no resistance as your army marched through the streets of Akkad. The citizenry’s nervous faces stare out of the doorways of the city’s buildings.
As you rode alongside the king in your chariot, Rimush’s words played over in your mind. A flood and an ambush. You wonder if he was right. King Sargon was not told of this; losing your hand had made you irritable, and the voices agreed that this was the choice that made the best out of a poor situation. You are not sure if you agree.
You hear a rumbling in the distance.
That’s… probably the water. Guess Rimush was telling the truth after all.
The rumbling grows louder, and becomes a faint roar. The march has stopped, and the soldiers look around, confused.
Sargon may have wronged you, but the soldiers are your men, and don’t deserve to die like this. “Get to higher ground! Climb! Enter the buildings and reach the roofs!” you scream. “The city is about to be flooded!” Nearly a quarter of the men fall out of formation and enter the nearest building at the sound of your orders.
The king grabs you, furious. “Ean, what do you think you are doing? What are you babbling about? You better have a good reason for this if you do not want to be left without any hands!” You think quickly. Feeling a bit more prudent than before, you reply, “My king, that roar means the city is about to be flooded. My priority right now is to get you to safety, so please follow me.”
“Very well then.” The king gives a dismissive snort, and faces his troops. “Men! Your king orders you to reach the rooftops immediately! There is a flood coming, and we shall all be swept away if we do not do so!” The remaining soldiers make to do so, but before they can move, you hear screams coming from the building where the first of those who heeded your warnings fled to immediately.
The cultists. It looks like Shulgi has planted them inside buildings, hoping to carry out his ambush once any surviving soldiers from the flood had fled inside seeking shelter. You feel water starting to lap at the soles of your sandals. The flood was coming too.
“The enemy is waiting for us inside the buildings, but unless any of you fancy taking a long swim, we better go in there and drag their entrails out! Be careful, but be quick!” You give your directions to the troops, and then run towards the nearest building together with the king. A dozen cultists were inside, brandishing long, crooked knives. They fought with great tenacity and fanaticism – their zest to kill the enemy in Shulgi’s name made them seem impervious to pain. You dispatch of them just the same, the king following behind you.
***
Reaching the rooftop, you survey the condition of the battle. A torrent of water was raging through the streets, sweeping away any stragglers that had not managed to get to safety. Cries of battle and bronze hitting leather could be heard from the buildings all around you. Several rooftops had your troops and Shulgi’s cultists engaged in combat. Sargon’s army was scattered, though your timely warning had allowed most of them to escape the brunt of the flood. Their superior discipline and skill should win them the day against the cultists, who have nothing but enthusiasm going for them.
“My king… my king! I have something urgent to report!” You turn and see one of your men climb up onto the roof, his clothes sopping wet. You go to help him up. As you reach for the man, he looks up at you and freezes. “You. I did not expect to see you here.” Upon seeing his face, you freeze too. You feel a flicker of panic in his mind, which soon faded from your perception and became a blank, unreadable void.
“Shulgi.”
You mutter his name aloud, attracting the king’s attention. He glances at the soaked Shulgi, and grins. “So the little mastermind has decided to give himself up? That is very noble of you.” Shulgi bows mockingly. “King Sargon. I was looking forward to our little private meeting. It's such a pity you brought your loyal dog along.” The king chuckles briefly before replying. “Silence. No more words. I will have many, many questions to ask you after I cut off your arms and legs.” Sargon draws his sword. “Ean! Capture that traitor, and do it quickly! You shall never want for anything again after this.”
Whether or not you agree with Sargon, you know Shulgi is too dangerous to be left to his own devices. You lunge at him, your own sword at the ready. Shulgi draws his dagger, a crooked affair similar to those his cultists wield, and tries to ward you off. He moves faster and stronger than most other people, and you cannot read him, but still, you are better. Some of the soldiers that managed to fight off the ambush had already begun to gather on the rooftops – they see your duel with Shulgi, and cheer loudly. The first few exchanges happen without anything of note, but soon you manage to understand his amateurish movements. Your blade flashes past his guard and nicks his cheek, drawing blood. Shulgi grimaces in pain and gestures with his free hand. To your surprise, a small jet of water shoots up from the flood waters and hits you in the face. Shulgi takes advantage of your distraction and closes the distance, attempting to sink his dagger into you. You manage to recover and step back in time; the dagger merely opens up the front of your chest to the bone – no big deal for an immortal. Shifting your footwork quickly, you dart back forwards, faster than Shulgi can react, and run him through with your sword.
The king begins to clap. “Wonderful, Ean! Now, cut off his limbs and interrogate him.” Shulgi grins weakly. “What a great dog you are, Ean. He takes your hand, and even so you still obey his every word.” You open your mouth to retort. Suddenly, he cackles and clasps his hands over your temples. “I’m not going out like this, you bastards, not without a fight!” Before you can say anything, your head is assaulted by blinding pain. Shulgi mouths something that you cannot hear past the pain, and you instinctively rip your sword upwards with all your might, out of his body, cutting the astrologer into two. The bisected man falls backwards into the swift-flowing waters.
“No, you fool!” Sargon comes at you, grabbing you again. “I told you to capture him alive!” Your head still hurts tremendously, and as you look into Sargon’s furious eyes, you finally hear what Shulgi said: kill King Sargon. You lift your sword against your will.
Uh.. no, we’re not the ones doing it this time. That guy must’ve put a suggestion on you.
Nifty trick, that. But it’s still weak. You can fight it.
The voices encourage you as you fight the compulsion – you are definitely not going to let Shulgi give you any commands. You concentrate your mental focus to resist Shulgi’s suggestion, holding your arm back by pure willpower. You succeed, but just barely.
The king, however, was not amused. Not realizing that he had escaped death by a whisker, he spits at you. “I see now. You would raise your sword against me. You have killed my son, you keep the secrets of Shulgi’s immortality from me; now you plan to kill me, and then you would be king of all Sumer and Egypt! Does your treachery know no bounds?” He points his sword at you, his hostile intent clear. The king will probably try to disable you and do to you what he planned to do to Shulgi. You can tell that any words are useless. Sargon is too far gone in his bitterness.
***
A. You fight, and kill the king. If Sargon, Shulgi and Rimush could have so much fun playing at ruling, why should you not reign yourself? After all, you have put two of them out of the picture yourself. Clearly you deserve to be king much more than any of them – it is your right.
B. Whether you think fighting the king is futile, or that you cannot find it in you to raise your sword against your liege, the solution remains the same for you. You dive into the waters, letting them wash you right into the wilderness. Ruling does not interest you anyway – you are a man of battle, not of court and politics.