Chapter Five – The Golden King and the Mage
Night had fallen.
Their small campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the trees. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light cold and distant.
Frieren sat a short distance from the fire, polishing her staff. Fern was reviewing her spell formations, while Stark was already asleep, snoring lightly.
And then there was Gilgamesh.
He sat with perfect stillness, his posture regal despite their humble setting. He did not need warmth, nor rest, yet he remained with them, watching the flames as if lost in thought.
"Do you dream?"
His golden eyes flickered toward Frieren.
She met his gaze without hesitation. "You said you slept for thousands of years. Did you dream?"
Gilgamesh exhaled lightly. "No."
"Not even once?"
He shook his head. "It was not that kind of sleep."
Frieren studied him. "Then what was it?"
Gilgamesh glanced upward, watching the stars. "It was a waiting," he said. "A stillness beyond time. No thought, no passage of days. Just… nothing."
Frieren hummed thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound peaceful."
Gilgamesh gave a quiet chuckle. "It was not meant to be."
Silence settled between them again.
Then—
"You are not like other elves," he said suddenly.
Frieren raised an eyebrow. "Neither are you."
Gilgamesh smirked slightly. "True." He tilted his head. "But there is something… different about you. You carry melancholy, yet it does not weigh you down."
Frieren was quiet for a moment. Then she shrugged. "I've had time to think."
Gilgamesh nodded. "As have I."
Another pause.
Then—
"You are strong," he mused. "But strength alone does not define a being."
Frieren glanced at him. "And what does?"
Gilgamesh's gaze returned to the fire. "The reason for their strength."
He leaned back slightly, resting one arm over his knee. "For mortals, strength is a means to an end—survival, conquest, protection, vengeance. But for those who have outlived such mortal concerns… what is left?"
Frieren didn't answer.
Because she knew exactly what he meant.
And she wasn't sure she had an answer herself.
Gilgamesh smirked at her silence. "Perhaps that is why I chose to walk with you," he murmured.
Frieren gave him a sideways glance. "Because I don't have an answer?"
"Because you are searching for one."
Her fingers curled slightly around her staff.
He wasn't wrong.
And that was what made him so dangerous.
Gilgamesh was not like other elves. He did not wander aimlessly, nor did he seek companionship out of loneliness.
He was waiting for something.
And she had a feeling that when he found it, the world would never be the same.