[ The visit of Enkidu acts like a catalyst, causing the anxiety you have been consciously or unconsciously suppressing in your heart to seep out like flowing water.
]
[ You continue to handle the affairs of the City-State every day, though there is a bit more deep thought in your eyes.
]
[ Over the next few weeks, the daily life in Kusha seems to have returned to its former tranquility.
]
The season of spring plowing has arrived, and the air is filled with the scent of fresh soil.
Doros is learning to arrange farming activities and allocate seeds and plow oxen with the assistance of several elder priests.
In truth, he does not really want to do these things, but watching those old women call it “the necessary path to becoming a priest” instantly leaves Doros speechless.
Afterward, in a fit of anger, Doros eats twice his usual portion at noon.
Yet, this work allows him to temporarily detach from his worries about the future of Kusha.
Iga also seems busier than before, often carrying stacks of clay tablets recording land distribution and canal repair plans, shuttling between the temple and the City-State archives.
Doros can clearly feel that she speaks less, but her efficiency in handling affairs has increased; she is always able to hand him the organized clay tablets at the right moment whenever he needs certain data or advice.
The sunlight spills warmly into the courtyard.
Doros has just finished discussing the irrigation routes with several agricultural officials and rubs his brow, feeling a bit weary.
Looking up, he sees Iga sitting on the stone steps not far away, a clay tablet spread out on her lap.
Her slender fingers point to the symbols on it as she quietly explains the key points of the records to a young scribe beside her.
The sunlight outlines her focused profile, and a few strands of golden hair fall by her cheeks, swaying gently with her breathing.
Doros does not make a sound to disturb her, just watching quietly.
He can clearly notice a faint shadow of darkness under Iga’s eyes, likely caused by days of overwork.
A trace of guilt and…
an indescribable stirring rises in his heart.
Hmm…
next time, I should appropriately reduce her workload.
The effort this young girl has put into Kusha is no less than his own, as the nominal High Priest.
Seeming to sense his gaze, Iga looks up and meets Doros’s eyes directly.
She pauses slightly, then turns her face away unnaturally, quickly gives a few instructions to the scribe, and stands up with the clay tablets to walk over.
“High Priest, are there any difficulties with the farming arrangements?”
Her voice has returned to its usual coldness, but Doros still catches a trace of residual redness on her earlobes.
“None for now.”
“Sit for a while, Iga.
You have been working very hard lately.”
Iga hesitates for a moment before sitting down at the far end of the steps, a little distance away from him.
She still holds the clay tablets tightly in her arms, like an invisible barrier.
For a moment, the only sound in the courtyard is the rustling of the wind through the new leaves.
Doros looks at the people working in the distance and suddenly speaks, his tone filled with a touch of emotion: “Sometimes I feel that watching seeds sprout and crops grow is far more reassuring than dealing with those grand propositions.”
Iga is silent for a moment, then says softly: “Nurturing life is the very foundation of the world.
The foundation of Kusha lies in this as well.”
“You are right.”
Doros smiles and turns his gaze to her.
“Just like these trivial matters you silently do for Kusha, they are also part of the foundation.
Iga, thank you.”
The girl’s body stiffens imperceptibly, and her fingers holding the clay tablets tighten slightly.
She does not look at Doros, but keeps her head down, staring at the tips of her shoes.
Her voice is even softer: “…There is nothing worth thanking.”
Another silence follows.
Doros notices she seems more reserved than usual, so he tries to find some lighter topics: “Come to think of it, Iga, you seem to know every inch of Kusha’s land like the back of your hand.
Did you grow up here?”
This question seems to stump Iga.
She pauses for a long time before answering vaguely: “…I suppose so.
It has been a long time.”
“And what about your family?”
Doros is a bit curious.
He has never heard Iga mention any relatives.
Iga’s shoulders shrink slightly, and her voice is almost inaudible: “…They are not here.”
Doros realizes this might have touched upon a painful subject for her and quickly apologizes: “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It is fine.”
Iga shakes her head and finally looks up at the date palm tree in the courtyard, lush with new leaves, her gaze distant.
“It is just that…
sometimes, watching the people of Kusha work from sunrise to sunset, parents and children, laughter and joy, I feel…
it is very lively.”
Doros feels a stir in his heart and is about to say something, but is interrupted by a burst of cheerful children’s laughter.
Several children of the temple attendants are chasing and playing nearby, and they accidentally kick a ball near them.
A little girl, about five or six years old with her hair in pigtails, runs over timidly to pick up the ball.
Looking up and seeing Doros and Iga, she immediately shows a sweet smile and calls out crisply: “Hello, Big Brother High Priest!
Hello, Big Sister Iga!”
Doros smiles and nods at her.
Iga seems a bit at a loss.
Facing the child’s innocent smile, her tense expression softens unconsciously, and she even nods back at the girl, albeit a bit clumsily and with a very small movement.
The little girl picks up the ball and skips away, her laughter like silver bells trailing behind her.
Iga watches the girl’s back, her gaze lingering for a long time.
Doros sees a faint, extremely gentle curve appear at the corners of her lips.
Although it is fleeting, it is like ice and snow melting, leaving him stunned for a moment.
“The children…
are very cute.”
Iga suddenly says in a low voice, as if talking to herself.
Then, as if suddenly coming to her senses, she stands up quickly and returns to her calm, unruffled appearance: “High Priest, I still need to verify the list of supplies for the Spring Festival.
I will take my leave now.”
After speaking, she leaves in a hurry, almost out of habit, though her steps are not as perfectly steady as usual.
Doros watches her figure disappear behind the pillars, and that strange feeling in his heart becomes clearer.
There is a contradictory quality to Iga; she is almost inhumanly calm when handling affairs, yet she reveals a rare softness because of a child’s smile; she seems all-powerful, yet at certain moments, she appears exceptionally lonely.
This is a feeling he has only seen in one other person so far.
The Goddess of the Underworld.
Ereshkigal.
Perhaps, is there really some profound, unknown connection between Iga and that Goddess?
Shaking his head, Doros pushes this thought to the back of his mind.
What Kusha needs right now is down-to-earth management.
And Iga, whoever she may be, is an indispensable companion on this journey for him right now.
[ Beneath the calm daily life, undercurrents are still surging.
]
[ In the process of managing the City-State together, your relationship with Iga has quietly drawn closer.
]
[ The subtle emotions Iga inadvertently reveals make you speculate more about her identity, but they also allow you to see another side of her hidden beneath her calm exterior.