WAR OF EMPİRES: ANCİENT REQUİEM

Footsteps echoed in the muddy rear garden. Aurelius came running through the rain, the hem of his cloak soaked, his boots splashing over wet stones with every hurried stride. When he saw Caesar crouched on the ground, his eyes widened, and worry instantly tightened his face. He dropped to one knee beside him and called out at once:

"What happened, my lord? Why are you like this?"

Caesar didn't respond immediately. He stared blankly at the soil, then slowly turned his head toward Aurelius. His lips parted, and he spoke in a hoarse, heavy voice:

"Nothing happened… I just dropped something and was picking it up."

His tone was far from his usual imperial calm—lower, wearier, even unsettled.

Aurelius looked into Caesar's eyes. There was something in that gaze. Was it fear? Doubt? Or the shadow of something unseen?

Frowning, he asked.

"Are you sure, my lord?"

The question hung in the air for a moment. Caesar slowly raised his head. His eyes suddenly sharpened. With a piercing, cold glare, he locked onto Aurelius's gaze. In that moment, Aurelius realized he had made a mistake by asking. Caesar said nothing. He simply rose to his feet, brushing the rain from his shoulders as if nothing that had just happened mattered at all.

Yet the silence inside him… had only grown louder.

Caesar turned back to Aurelius. The vacant look in his eyes was replaced by a flash of anger. His voice sliced through the hum of the rain like a whip.

"What is it? Why are you here? Don't you know I don't like to be disturbed during my walks?"

Aurelius bowed his head, still on his knees. Rain streamed down from his hair and mixed with the water on his face.

"Forgive me for the interruption, my lord but this news… it couldn't wait."

Caesar narrowed his eyes, adjusting the hem of his cloak and tilting his head slightly.

"And what, tell, is this news so urgent it dares not wait?"

Aurelius took a deep breath. He met Caesar's gaze without flinching as he spoke.

"We've received a letter… from the Gorman Empire."

Those words echoed through Caesar's body like a strike of thunder. His eyes widened, and a flicker of restrained shock rippled across his face.

"At a time like this?" he asked, his voice low but filled with tension.

It was as if a storm approaching could be sensed behind his words. The two of them returned to the palace with slow, heavy steps. As the hum of the rain faded between the stone columns, the silence inside deepened even more. Caesar climbed the long stairs and took his seat on the throne. As he sat on the velvet-covered chair, the rain dripping from his cloak fell onto the stone floor.

Aurelius stepped just to his left. Caesar slightly raised his hand and made a brief gesture to a soldier waiting in the corner. The soldier immediately moved, holding the sealed parchment in both hands, stepping forward and presenting it with great reverence in front of Caesar. Caesar took the parchment. The moment he saw the seal, his eyebrows furrowed. His gaze froze. His lips parted, and in a whisper barely audible, he spoke.

"Gılgamısh..."

He held the parchment in his hands for a while, slowly tracing the edge of the seal with his thumb. Then, he extended it toward Aurelius.

"Read it."

His voice was firm, resolute. Yet beneath it, the fine lines of tension were clearly hidden. When Aurelius received the command, he gave a slight nod and carefully opened the parchment. In the room, only the distant sound of rain and the rustling of the parchment could be heard. Everyone was holding their breath. Caesar, meanwhile, still carried the echo of that name in his mind: Gılgamısh...

Aurelius began reading, slow and with flawless diction, word for word. Each word struck the stone walls and echoed, casting a heavy shadow across the deep silence of the room.

> "O you who think yourself mighty, lost within dreams, how much longer will you continue like this? You accumulate sin and shame, you commit great errors. Has your fault not become clear to you? Were the things you saw not a warning? There is no doubt in the decrees of the Nabis—has your ear gone deaf? Has death not spoken to you? Did you not hear that voice?

Do you not fear regret when death arrives? Then take heed and be cautious. How much longer will you remain in heedlessness? And how much longer will you act with arrogance? You pursue only desire ,as if death does not come for all."

As the parchment was folded shut, a heavy silence settled over the room. Nothing could be heard but the distant sound of rain echoing through the stone arches. Caesar sat with his head slightly bowed, his eyes fixed on the patterns carved into the throne.

His face bore the layered traces of rage, disbelief, and an ancient fear.

The name of Gılgamısh...

Warnings from the Nabis...

And most striking of all: Death.

In that moment, it felt as if the palace walls were closing in. The silence spoke more than any words could. Caesar's face suddenly flushed with fury. His breath grew heavy, his eyes blazing. He gripped the armrest of the throne tightly… then, without warning, slammed his fist down.

Crack!

The carved armrest split, its metal plate caved in. The silence still hung in the air—only now it was laced with a taut, unnerving dread.

Through clenched teeth, Caesar roared.

"GILGAAAMIIISH!"