"What is the exact situation on the front line? What about the casualties?"
Gilgamesh walked through the palace corridors, his head still feeling a little woozy as he questioned Siduri behind him.
Hearing the question, Siduri could not help but stop in her tracks.
Then she immediately started walking again, seeming to consider how she should answer Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh noticed this.
He stopped, turned around, and gave Siduri a somewhat surprised look.
"...Were the losses severe?"
His mood could not help but grow heavy as well.
Siduri opened her mouth, then lowered her head, seeming to do everything she could to restrain her emotions.
There was a slight sob in her voice.
"That is not the case, my king. That is not the case."
Siduri's body was visibly trembling, yet she did not lose her composure. She even hid her tearful face.
"Twenty-one volunteers were killed, ninety-eight were severely wounded, and two hundred and twenty-two were lightly wounded. For us—for Uruk—this is an acceptable outcome. As for the army... only one soldier was killed. Only one."
"Only one."
Siduri could no longer control her emotions before Gilgamesh. She leaned against the nearby wall, though she did not collapse to the floor.
Looking at his aide, Gilgamesh vaguely guessed who that one fallen soldier was.
His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but after a moment of hesitation, he stopped himself.
He took two steps toward Siduri and placed his hand on her head.
Siduri's body jolted. She wanted to raise her head, yet did not dare to.
Feeling her tremble, Gilgamesh let out a long sigh.
"If you want to cry, then cry as loudly as you wish. I will not mind."
His voice was somewhat stiff. After all, he had never spoken in such a