Chapter 103 The Feast
Abram and his party traveled several dozen miles from Terah, arriving at Nimrod the following day. Upon entering the city, he noticed the city's banners fluttering, with three different colored royal banners beneath the Nimrod flag.
He stared intently at one of them.
It was the banner of King Elam.
People said that the glory of the Semites lay in Elam, and that Elam, like Ur, was ruled by the descendants of the Semites. Yet, destiny seemed to favor Elam.
That land was rich and powerful; even as a vassal state, it was a force that King Nimrod dared not underestimate.
His father always said he was proud and arrogant, unwilling to accept a mediocre fate. But wasn't his decision to bypass Elam and take the long route through Elijah also a manifestation of his temperament?
"Master, King Nimrod is hosting a banquet in the palace. My lord and King Tiddah went to pay their respects early this morning," Eliezer told Abram, bowing his head.
This young Damask was a master swordsman, his movements as swift as a shadow—a natural-born spy.
Abram had bought him from the slave market when he was very young; he was a loyal servant, and Abram entrusted him with all his tasks.
"Keep an eye on them, and report back to me immediately," Abram said decisively. After the servant left, he paced anxiously around the room.
"How could Father have allied himself with King Goin again!"
He had heard that Tidas was greedy and his unbridled expansion had already swallowed up much of the southern lands; befriending him was like dealing with a tiger.
Furthermore, Nimrod had gathered the various kingdoms for an assembly. This was the first time he had summoned them all at once since his eastward and southward journey decades ago, when he had distributed fiefs to his many followers.
Of course, after a period of ruthless expansion and annexation, only a handful of those left were truly qualified to stand here.
Therefore, when he saw Tara behind Goin, his face clearly showed surprise. Hearing Tida say that Tara claimed to be the King of Ur and had also received an invitation from Nimrod, his surprise turned to amusement.
"King of Ur! Of course, our King of Ur, how could I forget you?" He embraced Tara warmly, seemingly welcoming him.
"Old friend, I didn't know you would come in person."
Tara looked terrified. He hadn't explained things clearly to King Goin before entering, but Nimrod didn't expose him, which puzzled and frightened him.
"King Nimrod…I…"
Nimrod was pleased to see the expression on his face, the same fear as Abram's, but one that satisfied his lust for power even more than that of the young man. He whispered in Tara's ear.
"It's a pity I didn't have time to properly entertain Harlan when he was here; it's a shame he passed away so young."
"No…it was Harlan's own fault, please don't take it to heart," Tara forced a smile.
"And the person you mentioned…I already…" Meow Meow said.
Compared to the three kings, the hundred men he brought were neither stonemasons nor possessed any special skills. Tara couldn't speak, but Ninglu 'thoughtfully' spoke for him.
"Ur is a small place; I figured a mere hundred men wouldn't be hard to gather. You're much wiser than your son. I've always liked you," Ninglu said, though of a higher generation, he wasn't much older, just a few years older than Tara.
However, standing together, neither of them would have guessed that Tara was the younger one.
He led Tara into the palace. The three kings knew how arrogant Ninglu was; this behavior was clearly abnormal.
Goin asked in surprise, "Did this old man offend King Nimrod?"
King Elazar, seemingly unconcerned, strolled leisurely through the palace as if it were his own backyard.
Only King Elam lagged behind, his personal servant whispering.
"Chief Tara is foolish. King Nimrod is not one to show weakness and then be lenient. Out of consideration for our kinship, you have repeatedly extended olive branches to him, only to be met with disdain. Now, his posture is quite unsightly."
"Those who despise themselves are always looked down upon," King Geda Laoma of Elam sighed softly. "The land of Ur is truly a pity."
After speaking, everyone took their seats. As instructed by Nimrod, the palace servants had prepared four seats beforehand. Besides the throne at the head, Nimrod's son and the three kings each had a seat. Nimrod led his 'friends' in and then went to the throne at the very top.
Tarah was left standing awkwardly at the table. Ninglu, after taking his seat, looked down at the uneasy Tarah, as if only then realizing something. Tarah looked around, seemingly unsure where to place him.
Tarah felt ashamed, but then heard Ninglu speak from the head of the table.
"You've come at just the right time. I was just about to host a banquet for the three kings, Goin, Elan, and Elazar. Although they are all newly risen kings, they are all heroic young men," Ninglu said. "My court is vast, but it lacks someone to serve wine at the banquet."
"After much thought, only Tarah, you are suitable."
Tarah trembled. Seeing his silence, Ninglu raised an eyebrow.
"What? Are you going to defy my will?" He leaned down, his eyes gleaming with excitement, as if Tarah could do something if he dared to disobey.
"I dare not..."
He pulled the frail old man aside, yet he held a golden pot at the banquet to pour wine for the descendants of his former kin. His twilight years were utterly desolate.
Especially seeing the deep meaning in the eyes of his kinsman, King Elam, he felt increasingly ashamed. Tears welled in his eyes, and he realized Abram's words were true.
Nimrod was no longer the Nimrod of the past.
He was no longer wise; instead, he was narrow-minded, arrogant, and stubborn.
Grand events were constantly taking place in the palace, and the people of the city joined in the festivities.
First, the largest restaurant in the city, in response to King Nimrod's initiative, announced that it would hold an unprecedented banquet, opening its normally closed, luxurious banquet hall. The influence of the Tower of Babel immediately spread from the royal family and nobility to the common people.
King Nimrod was overjoyed and immediately issued a decree rewarding the restaurant, regretfully stating that if he hadn't been there to view the tower with the three kings that day, he would certainly have attended the banquet as well.
The king's words spurred the city's elite, large and small, to swarm like flies drawn to a fish's breath.
However, the restaurant refused their applications, arrogantly declaring that only they had the right to choose their guests. Once they took a liking to someone, regardless of status—be it a beggar or a wealthy landowner—no one in the city was above the law.
The rich were not angered by the restaurant's boast, but the poor were even less so.
"I heard they even provide the king's chefs," they whispered amongst themselves. Invitations to enter were incredibly difficult to obtain, and everyone was proud to have a place.
Such unity and fervent enthusiasm were rare indeed.
The Tower of Babel was no longer a tool for King Nimrod to exploit the people; it had become a grand spectacle eagerly anticipated by all humanity.
When its meaning changed, even Heaven could not sway it.
A hawk swooped down from the sky, its long cry echoing across the plains, its orange-gold eyes reflecting the myriad expressions of life, until it folded its feathers and landed in the hands of the restaurant owner known as No Return.
Mammon extended his gauntlet-covered hand, letting the heavy hawk perch on his arm.
"Horus, have you seen anything unusual?"
The black hawk hissed, flicked its spool of thread, and pecked at Mammon with its beak, begging for food.
Greedily and reluctantly, Mammon fed it a large piece of raw meat. "You should have been raised by Beelzebub."
"What are you saying about me!" A low, husky voice came from behind him. Mammon turned, his obsidian eyes gleaming with joy.
"Your Majesty!" He rushed over, ignoring Beelzebub who had spoken, and knelt before the black-haired demon king.
Lucifer helped him up. The black hawk, having left Mammon's grasp during his sudden movement, flapped its wings and circled in the air. "This is Agareth's eagle," Lucifer said, extending a finger. The black eagle perched steadily on his finger, transmitting everything it had witnessed over the past few days to the King of Hell.
"You seem to be getting along quite well with it," Lucifer chuckled. Sensing his mood, the eagle dared not beg for food and flapped its wings, flying away.
Lucifer didn't look at it; his dark eyes were fixed on Mammon, unfathomable in their depths.
"How are the plans going?" he asked calmly.
"Everything is going according to plan. After tonight, nothing can stop the Tower of Babel's progress," Mammon said confidently.
The King of Earth only invited kings of equal rank, but Hell knew better than Nimrod that this wasn't enough.
The expectations of the Four Kings alone wouldn't build the Tower of Babel; only when everyone became a builder, when everyone strived for that tower, would this determination and belief break through the barriers of heaven.
Then, it would tangibly touch the realm of Heaven.
"Your Majesty," Asmodeus, his blue-streaked hair flowing, bowed his head with an air of elegance. "While it's certainly pleasing to see Heaven furious, isn't this going to far too much trouble?"
There are many ways to provoke Heaven; why choose this one, even going so far as to send Mammon, one of the Seven Deadly Sins, to hide among mortals, secretly advising King Nimrod, showering him with flattery and praise?
"Is it really necessary to go this far?" he asked, his words carrying a double meaning.
He felt sorry for Mammon, yet worried that Lucifer hadn't truly abandoned his desire to destroy humanity.
Humans are insignificant, yet as tenacious as ants; arguing with them is simply not worth the effort.
Lucifer's deep red eyes churned with conflicting emotions, but ultimately, he looked out the window at the ever-rising tower and said nothing.
That evening, the banquet from hell commenced its revelry on earth, displaying lavish extravagance. All the tableware was made of the finest materials; aside from gold and silver utensils, a shimmering crystal chandelier illuminated the entire hall.
It remained unmoved by earthly power or influence, seemingly open to anyone—street performers, wandering poets, wealthy merchants, farmers…
The black tablecloths, however, did not appear gloomy in the brightly lit hall. Light-colored pinwheel berries arranged in vases, the refined taste of fallen angels stripping the banquet of its hellish violence and vulgarity.
Handsome male and female waiters, their backs ramrod straight, carried lily puddings and various dishes with a single hand, weaving through the crowd, making the act of serving the food itself a pleasing spectacle.
Silver sprouts with shredded pork, pickled apples, rose sake, and pan-fried short ribs… initially, it all looked presentable. But then, bizarre things appeared: roasted camel, a cat and mouse platter… and a large bowl of frog egg sweet soup that resembled basil.
The guests were astonished by the lavish banquet and the unheard-of menu.
Gluttony fueled their appetites; people ate with bloodshot eyes, and even began to fight among themselves.
"Oh, what a wonderful feast!" Lucifer laughed, watching the farce unfold, his voice cold and devoid of warmth.
"I love watching them act so recklessly."
They could live without music, without entertainment, without conscience, but they couldn't resist delicious food.
"Humans are only endearing in moments like this."
"You're absolutely right," Beelzebub, his face flushed from drinking, slurred. "From the moment their appetites were unleashed, I stopped hating this race so much."
"Please allow me to offer you my most sincere performance," he murmured, then pulled Asmodeus, staggering, towards the crowd.
A new dish was served in the center of the hall, but the humans found it hard to eat. They circled it, puzzled. Gluttony stepped forward, and under everyone's gaze, in response to Lucifer's words, he performed a spectacular feat of swallowing a crispy lion's head (a real lion's head?) whole.
The humans gasped in astonishment, and Asmodeus cheered him on.
Eating, drinking, and revelry went hand in hand; extravagance and lavishness accompanied each other. Hell incited human revelry, and songs of praise filled the air, celebrating King Nimrod's brilliant decisions regarding the Tower of Babel.
They compared him to the sun and moon, elevating him high, deifying him in their hearts, as they always did.
Encouraged and infected by their surging emotions, the humans rushed out of the hall to the riverbank, shouting towards the brightly lit tower across the river.
The three kings brought two thousand stonemasons, all of whom devoted themselves to the construction of the Tower of Babel. Combined with the artisans and slaves Nimrod had previously recruited from various regions, they worked tirelessly, day and night.
Unlike usual, tonight all eyes were on the tower, watching its imposing height soar into the clouds.
Azure clouds drifted beneath it in the night, making the tower appear even more steadfast, like a sacred mountain.
No one worried about its collapse anymore, and no one spoke of divine punishment. The smooth progress of the project ignited unprecedented enthusiasm among the people, with more and more joining in.
The Tower of Babel's grandeur grew even more awe-inspiring due to the united will of all humanity. Haniya, initially nonchalant, was now filled with unease.
"What if it really reaches Heaven!" he asked Yahweh, for he had discovered that Yahweh truly possessed foresight. Since arriving in this land, he had been watching the tower closely. Previously, it hadn't seemed so significant, but the fervent emotions of humanity these past two days had truly shaken him.
The tower grew ever taller, yet it never collapsed, for no one cut corners. They worked together, communicating seamlessly, adding brick by brick to its height.
This was good; the angels loved diligent humankind, and thus he found himself in a dilemma.
They couldn't, like Hell, tempt people to be lazy and slack off. Were they simply to watch them continue building?
"Why don't we turn this land into a swamp, causing the tower to sink underground?"
God didn't answer, but suddenly took a few steps towards the tower.
"What are you doing, Yahweh?"
"Changing Babel from the heavens," God said, and immediately a silver light rose from the tower, interspersed with golden laws, flickering in and out.
"Ah?!" Hania didn't understand, but Yahweh's cold voice continued in her ears.
"Changed, and the hearts are no longer united," He said indifferently. In the dim light, God stood beneath the Tower of Babel, his white robes reflecting the night.
In Hania's eyes, his body seemed bathed in a soft light.
"When hearts are not united, they naturally crumble."
His long silver hair danced in the wind, gleaming coldly in the moonlight.
Humans were reveling, construction sites were bustling with activity, and all the angel's anxieties paled in comparison.
That power and beauty, that serene expression and breathtaking decisiveness—Hania clutched his pounding heart, feeling it beat increasingly erratically.
"Are you a god?" he murmured.
The god gazed upon him, only to find that this 'god' was merely a metaphor.
He smiled faintly.
The silvery moonlight slowly and resolutely expanded in all directions, quickly engulfing the entire world.
And then the world descended into chaos.
(You provide the author Danmu's [Hebrew Mythology]: The arduous process of a world's formation.)