As Itani leaned forward, her voice dropped.

  "It's the guards. All the ox caravan's departure points are teeming with them. And these aren't the guards that the Mardukists hire from the people. These are Gutians. They're absolutely vicious."

  Anzu's pipe stopped halfway to his mouth. Gutians. That was a surprise. He'd never heard it in the context of Age of Menhirs before, not once in all his hours playing. But he knew the name and knew of the people. They were the loosely connected tribes that lived in the mountains to the east. The historian in him awoke.

  "Gutians? The people from the eastern Zagros mountains?"

  Itani's lips curved into a slight smile, obviously holding back what would otherwise have been open laughter due to her respect for Anzu.

  "So, you really have been away, huh?"

  Anzu returned the smile, acknowledging the absurdity.

  "Yes, it's all true."

  She shook her head, still grinning, then grew serious again.

  "Well, it's been over two hundred years since the Battle for Larsa, and things have changed drastically, as you might have seen. The Mardukists are one thing, but they only came to power by aiding the Gutians. These hill dwellers have basically overrun a big chunk of Mesopotamia, overturned most city-states, and are ruling through sheer terror now."

  "And the Mardukists saw the opportunity and came along for the ride."

  "Exactly."

  Itani lifted her mug, draining another gulp of ale. Anzu set his pipe down as his mind started assembling the pieces of the puzzle through historical parallels.

  "And before, the Akkadians ruled the city states..."

  "Mhm."

  But Anzu barely heard her confirmation. The pattern spread before him, clear as carved cuneiform. How hadn't he realized this before? It matched the history books almost perfectly. The time he'd spent in-game in the past, whatever that meant now, had been the age of the Sumerians.

  Then the Akkadians overturned their rule, unifying the region. And finally came the Gutians with impeccable timing, descending from their mountains just when the city-states were at their weakest.

  The Gutians had no significant civilization of their own. They'd taken most things from the Akkadians, such as their system of writing, administration, trade routes, and so on. Which explained why most people spoke Akkadian now.

  Fascinating. The historian in him thrilled at the deduction, at seeing living history unfold according to patterns he'd studied back in his university days.

  "But we're in luck."

  Itani's voice pulled him back. She set her mug down and looked at him with bright eyes.

  "Larsa is one of the few places that haven't been ransacked yet. So, it's not a bad choice to go there."

  Anzu nodded, and relief washed through him. He really didn't need more obstacles to reaching Larsa.

  "Alright, that's a relief to hear. But we need to find a way of traveling there now."

  Itani tilted her head as she considered the situation.

  "Couldn't you use a spell to send us there?"

  Anzu frowned slightly and began to crack his knuckles one by one.

  "Unfortunately, no. Teleportation magic doesn't work well for large distances like that. Besides, it's the sort of spell I need my tome for, and that is locked up in my tower."

  The irony wasn't lost on him. Everything he needed waited in Larsa. Getting there remained the problem.

  Silence settled between them. Itani drank more ale, and Anzu lifted his pipe, drawing smoke through the stem, watching the embers glow and fade.

  The muffled plinks of rain could be heard from the outside, and somewhere across the basement, glass shattered, which was followed by cursing.

  "Well, there is one option... But it's kind of risky."

  Anzu set his pipe down, meeting her eyes.

  "It can't be more risky than the ox caravan."

  Itani's shoulders relaxed slightly.

  "I think you're right. We don't really have much of a choice."

  She leaned back into her chair and took another swig of ale, the drink disappearing in one long pull. When she spoke again, her voice carried a mix of excitement and hesitation.

  "A few years ago, a Ranger that I know went to the very far north. Outside of Mesopotamia, where there are endless grasslands, according to him. There's a people called the Teuta. You know of it?"

  The name tugged at something in Anzu's memory, connected to the steppes beyond civilization's edge. But he couldn't put his finger on exactly which people she meant. He shook his head.

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  Itani continued, leaning forward with genuine enthusiasm now.

  "Anyway, they have these animals that are way, way faster than oxen. They call them horses and they ride them, too."

  Ah, of course. Age of Menhirs had never featured horses. Only oxen and mules, as animals of burden, which reflected historical accuracy with pedantic precision. Ancient Mesopotamia hadn't domesticated horses, as those came from the steppes. And if Itani spoke the truth, the horse was being introduced now.

  The historian in him was thrilled to witness living history unfolding precisely as it should. He wanted to grin widely and to pepper her with questions about whether the Teuta used chariots or rode mounted. Instead, Anzu kept his expression neutral, nodding slowly. It's not yet time to reveal to anyone he's not really from this world.

  "I've heard of these animals. I'm happy that they're being introduced to this part of the world."

  Itani's smile widened, mistaking his restraint for polite interest rather than barely contained academic excitement.

  "So, this Ranger came back to Lagash with a few of these horses and has set up a caravan for traveling. It's super fast, but it's also..."

  "Illegal?"

  She gave a sour smile.

  "Exactly. The Gutians would love to get their hands on them, but he just keeps moving the departure point so he doesn't get caught."

  Anzu picked up his pipe again, fiddling with the stem between his fingers. A Ranger who imported exotic animals, established underground networks, distributed passwords to hidden taverns, and ran illegal fast-travel operations while staying one step ahead of occupying forces.

  That didn't sound like a Ranger. That sounded like an entrepreneur. A very specific entrepreneur.

  "And this wouldn't be the same Ranger that gave you the password to this place? The businessman?"

  Color rose in Itani's cheeks again, visible even in the candlelight. She hid behind her mug, draining the remaining drops of her ale.

  "The businessman. It's the same guy."

  The blush deepened. She set the empty vessel down slowly and suddenly seemed very interested in the wood grain of the table.

  Anzu found himself smiling despite everything. The image of stern, practical Itani flustered over some smooth-talking merchant amused him more than it probably should.

  "Look, Itani, I don't really care about your past."

  "Oh, no, it's nothing like that, but..."

  She rushed the words and flailed her hands in the air, and then stopped.

  "We need to go to this place, where the Ranger is, to get tickets."

  Anzu waited. There had to be more to warrant this level of embarrassment.

  "Alright, so?"

  Itani's voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

  "The place is called... the Elven Caboose."

  Anzu laughed out loud, the sound bursting before he could stop it.

  "Ooh, okay. Is that a brothel?"

  Itani nodded.

  "It's only about five years old, so you probably don't know it."

  Anzu smiled, shaking his head.

  "So, he's that kind of businessman. Okay, I get it."

  He pulled on his pipe, drawing a few more puffs. The ember flared orange, smoke curling toward the low ceiling. Setting the pipe down, Anzu met Itani's gaze.

  "Alright. Let's go and see this businessman, then."

  Itani stood, visibly relieved as her shoulders dropped.

  "Let me just take care of the bill, and then we'll go."

  Anzu immediately reached for his pouch, producing two silver coins.

  "Here..."

  She waved him off.

  "No. It is my honor to buy you the drinks and the puffing leaf."

  There was sincerity in her voice, which stopped Anzu's protest. Still, the gesture sat uneasily, and was a reminder that, deep down, he perhaps wasn't some legendary hero, but just a confused historian, wearing stolen robes.

  "I'll pay you back," Anzu said in a determined way. "With interest even, as soon as we get to Larsa."

  Itani smiled as she tucked the coins into her pouch.

  "Deal."

  They climbed the narrow staircase back to ground level, nodding to the one-eyed dwarf as they passed. The rain hadn't stopped and was now pattering against the cobblestones steadily.

  Itani pulled her hood up, gesturing for Anzu to follow.

  "It's close. Two streets over."

  They moved through the darkness, keeping to the edges of buildings that cast the longest shadows. Anzu kept his senses alert for patrols, but Itani's posture remained relaxed.

  "Guards don't patrol this area much," she half-whispered. "They come here themselves when they're off duty. And, you know, it's a bit hard to arrest people in a place you visit yourself."

  Anzu grunted. It was just pragmatic corruption. The oldest kind in the world. In his original world, he had seen that in spades, holding a very special kind of contempt for such people. At least this time, it would help them in their predicament.

  They turned left down one street, and then left again. The change of atmosphere was striking: this street hummed with life. People chatted on the road with drinks in their hands, as laughter gushed from different doorways. It was much different than on any of the other streets at night in Lagash.

  And there it was, the Elven Caboose.

  There was no hidden basement and no password-guarded door. It was just a brothel doing business while guards and civilians maintained an unspoken truce. It was a perfect cover for fugitives, really.

  Itani led the way to the entrance, which was completely unguarded.

  Stepping inside wasn't unlike being immersed in a cloud of fog that consisted of pipe smoke, the sweet-sharp tang of ale, and a combination of different sickly sweet perfumes. The place was dimly lit, with scattered tables in the middle, the bar on one side, and more private alcoves on the other.

  A dark elf woman approached immediately, taller than Itani by several inches, wearing fabric so strategically thin and minimal that Anzu kept his gaze firmly on her face.

  "Welcome," she said softly. "Service, or just a table?"

  "We'll sit at the bar," Itani replied quickly, scanning the room. "Is Shikku about? I'd like a word with him."

  The woman's smile brightened with recognition.

  "Probably. Let me check."

  She slid away, leaving them to navigate toward the bar.

  Anzu claimed a stool, settling in while his eyes scanned the space. Most patrons looked ordinary enough. They seemed like merchants, craftsmen, and probably a few off-duty guards whose bronze armor sat beside their chairs. But a figure weaving between tables caught his attention.

  It was a Sage, badgering people.

  Anzu's gaze dropped to the man's robes, specifically to the emblem emblazoned across his chest. He bore the dungeon mark from the Caves of Dumuz. You had to be at least [Level 70] to earn that, and this Sage wore it at the front like the ultimate badge of honor instead of placing it discreetly on a sleeve like most sages did.

  The Sage approached a table of merchants, gesturing enthusiastically at them. They waved him off. He moved to the next group, but got the same response. Then he turned toward the bar.

  Anzu looked away, but did so a little too late.

  "Ahh, a fellow Sage!"

  His voice was thick with drunken enthusiasm. The level seventy came closer and looked at Anzu with bright eyes, teeming with alcohol and boredom.

  "Maybe you're up for a duel? Come on, they have a dueling ring here. It'll be great."

  Anzu kept his tone flat.

  "No, thanks. Some other time."

  The Sage deflated slightly, then shrugged and moved down the bar, pestering the next patron.

  "What about you? Fancy a duel?"

  Anzu frowned. Why would a level seventy want to duel someone who appeared level fifty? The gap made victory meaningless and was just bullying dressed up as sport. Unless the drunk simply enjoyed crushing weaker opponents.

  "So," Itani's voice pulled him back. She leaned close, keeping her words quiet. "When we speak to Shikku, we'll need to pay for the tickets. I hope 100 silver will be enough."

  Anzu turned to respond, but something poked his back. It was a soft but insistent prodding. He turned and saw the drunk Sage's staff pressed against his back.

  "Oh, come on Sagey! You'll learn so much from dueling me!"