Chapter 32

Luca was currently lurking in the shadows, following the prince to rescue the Daughter of the Nile. He was entrusted as a messenger to maintain contact with General Hazas and the reinforcements.

At the rear of the group, barely able to see the battle unfolding in the center circle, Luca heard the wild laughter of Yaran and almost leapt forward to fight to the death. Yet, burdened with a heavy responsibility—first, holding the trust of the Daughter of the Nile and awaiting the right moment to rescue her; second, being the vital link to summon reinforcements should the situation change—he stubbornly recalled the prince’s orders and did not advance even a single step.

Carol, naked and the best eyewitness, saw the prince pounce right before Yaran’s eyes. If only he drew the knife at his waist, victory would be swift, and capturing Yaran would complete the mission.

But it resembled a scene from her homeland’s Western cowboy films: two cowboys walking back-to-back, counting down “one, two, three” before drawing their guns. Yet Izmi only wore one holster. If he hadn’t reacted quickly and instinctively blocked with his arm, the blood flowing wouldn’t have been from his arm but his chest.

Carol wasn’t unexcited when Izmi appeared. Though he had been dragged about against her will, he never so blatantly brandished his masculine weapon like Yaran. This man openly revealed his ambition but lacked the means matching it. Cold though he was, Carol felt a sense of relief by comparison.

The reason Carol could fall for the equally immature Manphis instead of Izmi had much to do with Izmi’s initial deception. When he was still known as Sumer Izmi, Carol trusted him. If Manphis was the radiant sun god, then Izmi was like the unpredictable lord of the sea—able to be a clever merchant traveling through nations, a noble and aloof prince, or a lover whispering sweet words.

Carol did not dare trust him and thus could hardly like him; this was a woman’s intuition.

But rather than dislike him, Carol felt she could not hold this man’s heart. Manphis was Pharaoh—the sole truth of Egypt—who would find a way to save her from peril. Nothing, not even Isis, could stop him. Izmi, on the other hand, was only a prince. His will could not directly reach the gods’ ears; he had many concerns. His heart was as deep as the sea, accustomed to revealing ambition and scheming only before his unscrupulous and aging father. Though seemingly gentle and refined, he tread on thin ice, trusting no one.

Yet, if Carol had to choose now, helplessly, she would surely choose Izmi. He would carry her back to Bytido’s tent rather than leave her naked in the wilderness, forced to endure disgraceful acts. But bound by morality, in the presence of shameless Yaran, Izmi’s chances were precarious.

Izmi, of course, did not know what Carol was thinking. His arm was slashed, but in the darkness, the wound’s severity was unclear. The dripping blood sounded painfully clear. Furious, he violently threw the sheath of the knife that had almost cost him the fight onto the ground. It was no time for reckoning now. Seizing the moment as Yaran retreated, Izmi grabbed a handful of hair, pulling out several silver strands with great force.

When they clashed again, Izmi now wielded a dark dagger previously hidden in his hair. The clash of metal rang out—though the dagger was far shorter than Yaran’s sword, Izmi held his ground firmly, his strength clearly surpassing Yaran’s.

Yaran was stunned. Izmi appeared like a frail scholar, yet his strength was enough to wrestle a beast. Beneath his robe, his body was like a rock—lean but forged with iron will.

Izmi stood alone, while Yaran’s attendants noticed their king’s worsening expression. Yaran, ever reckless, fought bare-chested by the campfire on this small patch of land. Carol lay between them, ashamed to show her face, oblivious to the dramatic struggle unfolding just above her. Otherwise, she might have fainted again.

Though wielding a dagger, Izmi struggled against Yaran’s sword, but his agility gave him an edge. The wound seemed almost nonexistent; only his increasingly pale face betrayed his weakening state. A chilly wind swept across Yaran’s groin. Had Yaran not faced countless assassinations since becoming king and fought many battles, the tangled hair on the ground would have been a small heap of flesh instead.

This infuriated Yaran even more. To make matters worse, despite wielding the finest bronze sword forged by Assyrian masters, it snapped in two after fewer than twenty strikes against the small dagger with a sharp “crack.”

Yaran’s face twisted with rage, old grudges and new hatred swelling. He gestured toward the hillside, and a fierce wind sliced through the air.

Assyrian soldiers watched in terror, thinking their king reckless to challenge such a formidable foe. They understood quickly enough. The campfire Yaran had ignited earlier now reversed the situation, trapping Bytido in a valley surrounded by enemies, losing all chance of victory.

An arrow shot by Assyrian sharpshooters under Yaran’s signal pierced Izmi’s shoulder blade. Staggering twice, Izmi did not fall or surrender.

Luca grew desperate. Though he knew the prince and Bytido had lost their strength to resist, he could not move forward to save them. From his vantage point, he could not see the prince’s injuries but heard the frightened sobs of the Daughter of the Nile.

His loyalty to the prince surpassed all. This boy, raised in the wilds, sought to use his nimble agility to approach the crucial trio—either to seize Yaran or rescue the Daughter of the Nile—and then negotiate. But General Hazas was another matter; Luca feared he was no match in negotiation.

Luca was almost successful, no more than twenty paces away from bursting through the blood-soaked wild grass and stabbing Yaran’s bare body.

But a flicker of a soldier’s torch cast a shadow across Luca’s face. Carol, believing all hope lost, trembled with excitement: “Ah! Luca is here! He must have been captured by Bytido but seized the chaos to follow Prince Izmi and rescue me. If only I had found Luca first and escaped together, Yaran wouldn’t have caught me. How could I have forgotten Luca there?”

Carol trembled, biting her lip to hold back a cry. Yet in this moment, all politicians of the nations acted like Oscar-winning actors—but she was no Oscar-winning actress.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Yaran, who was binding the prince, immediately noticed her change and kicked her aside, shouting about an assassin. Luca’s stealth failed, and he fled with a heavy heart, hoping to meet General Hazas on the way. Otherwise, once the prince was taken back to Assyrian city, rescuing him would become nearly impossible.

Seeing Luca escape, Yaran did not pursue. The fate of Bytido, the prince, or Izmi no longer mattered. The two kingdoms were like water and fire. He only hoped Jomari would be useful to lure Manphis, then he could offer Isis benefits and strike a deal, unafraid of Egypt and Bytido joining forces against him.

Perhaps… he glanced slyly at the unconscious wild hen he had kicked, “Perhaps the stunning Queen Isis could become my queen consort! What are kinship and love compared to the throne?”

Under the cover of midnight, Assyria resumed its march toward its stronghold. To hasten their return to the capital, Yaran did not harm Carol further. When Prince Izmi awoke from blood loss, he saw the bronze nails on the city gates of Assyria.

Luca met General Hazas halfway at dawn. The seasoned general, shocked that his carefully raised prince had been captured by the fool Yaran, scolded Luca harshly: “How could the prince be caught by such an idiot? Impossible!”

Luca frowned, troubled by the bizarre circumstances but too distant to see clearly: “The prince clearly succeeded in a sneak attack, yet Yaran remained unharmed and mocked the prince… mocked him…”

Under Hazas’s rebuke, Luca hesitantly added: “Yaran said the prince was swordless… a coward, and that the prince didn’t touch the Daughter of the Nile because he had no sword between his legs…”

After a night’s hard ride, Inanna spat water far and wide, calmly wiping her mouth while tightly covering the waist knife wrapped in linen. This matter was known only to the heavens, the earth, and herself. If anyone else knew, she would be doomed. But that someone had already been half-killed by her.

General Hazas had no time to care for Inanna’s antics. He beat his chest in frustration: “What now? Assyria holds two hostages. Once the city gates close, we’re powerless. Even the king cannot persuade the council to mobilize the entire nation to rescue the prince. It would be better to hope for Pharaoh Manphis of Egypt to attack the city.”

Suddenly inspired, he said, “Luca, you are the Daughter of the Nile’s guard. Hurry to Egypt and inform Manphis that the Daughter of the Nile has been captured by King Yaran. If Assyria and Egypt fight to mutual destruction, the prince’s mission won’t be entirely in vain—though hardships are inevitable.”

Inanna felt a pang of unease hearing Luca’s report. Izmi was wounded by Yaran and nearly pierced through the chest by an arrow. Though not fatal, his situation in enemy territory was grim. She comforted herself that Sumerian medical skills rivaled Egypt’s. When she had a high fever, treatment was effective. The prince… should not die so easily. She still hoped to use him as a springboard to return home.

Luca set out on his divisive mission. General Hazas, considering the difficulty and risk of moving a large force deep in foreign lands, divided the troops into small teams to approach Assyrian city from different directions.

That day, Inanna waited with Hazas beneath a tree outside the city walls. Spies who had infiltrated the city had managed to smuggle out travel permits. Now, all inside the city awaited reunion to plan the palace rescue.

Curious, Inanna glanced around. Behind them, a carriage approached the city gate, its driver urging scattered travelers aside: “Make way! Clear the way!”

Guards at the gate approached and, seeing the royal seal on the documents, immediately donned flattering faces: “Sir, where are you headed?”

General Hazas, a veteran, noticed the carriage was expensive and unlike the open carriages of the era. This one was tightly enclosed—luxurious by any standard. When the fabric flapped briefly, he caught sight of a young girl’s feet, small and tender, adorned with golden anklets linked by chains.

Fortune smiled upon him. Without hesitation, Hazas grabbed the unprepared Inanna, tossed her into the carriage. She tumbled twice, lying back stunned on a lap. The young brown eyes that opened narrowed in recognition: “Ah! Long time no see!”

The author’s note: Prince, your mother has decided to send your wife to rescue you—don’t be afraid~

A thousand people, a thousand Hamlets. Regardless of which character we favor, this story is dedicated to the beautiful youth of my generation.

Beloved prince portraits from the saga of the Daughter of the Nile.

The Legend of Izmi [Daughter of the Nile] Chapter 32 complete and available for free reading!