The Ideal Holy King

Beneath a bright moon and sparse stars, before the flickering campfire, the firewood crackled. The people who had met by chance sat together in the light, sharing stories of the night.

Samael used Wallace's example in the form of a story, offering his own views along the way.

Before he had been stabbed to death by enraged readers, the ancient serpent had been an author, after all. Having been hunted down by readers for going on hiatus, he was naturally quite good at telling stories.

In this age lacking entertainment, everyone listened with great interest. Even the fleeing couple could not help becoming engrossed, sinking into deep thought.

By the way, to make his argument more convincing, Samael dragged out the rather bastardly young Gilgamesh as an example and thoroughly roasted him.

As the head of the ancient slave-owning class, the King of Uruk had not actually possessed much compassion for the common people.

Talking to him about restraining his desires, sealing away his emotions, remaining rational, sacrificing himself for the people, and empathizing with them would have sounded like the biggest joke in the world.

By his values, everyone was his property, his slaves. Only slaves were supposed to sacrifice themselves for their master.

Thus, unless Uruk faced a civilization-ending crisis like the Third Storm, where he himself was certain to die, that man would only occasionally erupt with so-called "kindness."

In ordinary times, expecting a pleasure-seeker like him to understand the hardships of common life was simply wishful thinking.

Yet even so, during his busiest years, that arrogant king clearly remembered when Tabad's daughter was due to give birth, the circumstances in General Tim's hometown, and thoughtfully offered meticulous concern.

It was precisely because of this that the people of Uruk had been willing to die in the