The Centaur's Unyielding Bow
The centaur's legs were closer to those of a horse than to those of a human. Horses possessed a unique structure of tendons that locked their joints securely in place.
They stood exactly like horses, each one supporting its own weight.
The two men did the same. They leaned on nothing. They depended on nothing. They stood straight and motionless as they passed the wine cups between them.
They had probably never knelt before—whether by their own choice or someone else's.
They would probably die still standing like that.
That was the centaur race.
The golden-haired nobleman spoke.
"I heard you withdrew from the archery tournament."
"Yeah."
Another centaur male frowned and answered.
"You were going to beat the Khan of the Wilderness?"
"...That's right."
*What I want to break isn't a legendary archer—it's a bum who doesn't live up to expectations.*
He had boldly entered the archery grand tournament to defeat Ashtien.
"...You were there that day too."
Ashtien, fed up with the Kairan clan head's joke, had shown off a ridiculous display.
"Amazing."
"I accepted on the spot that I couldn't win. That's all."
"Exactly. Watching that, you'd think confidence would vanish."
The male, whose conversation topic had grown distasteful, changed the subject.
"I heard there's talk of you entering the duel tournament."
"True."
The nobleman accepted it readily.
"Do you need martial prowess? You've already accumulated enough strength and fame."
"Yeah. That's plenty now. This time it's for a different reason."
"You want to end that kid's streak?"
Vesta's archery had clearly been outstanding. But from the centaurs' collective perspective, the outcome had been far from pleasant.
Their power had always had to be overwhelming, to instill fear in every other race.
Now any centaur could step forward and cut off the human boy's dominance.
"Some centaurs probably hope for that. But what I'm worried about isn't that. There are a few reasons. One of them is pure curiosity."
"Curiosity?"
"Of course. The Khan of the Wilderness is an amazing woman. You saw her yourself—strong, and wise besides. She's a complete ruler in every way."
How could anyone not be curious about a woman chosen by such a one?
"Curiosity alone doesn't sound like something you'd do."
"True. As the rival of the Altangerel clan, I can't be moved by private feelings. There are more reasons."
The nobleman added a brief explanation.
"Recently my sister has been arguing more with Father, and the Khan of the Wilderness seems involved in that. I thought I could help my sister by fighting him."
*Of course, that was only if I lost.*
"If I win, it's a pity for my sister, but I could break his streak the way the centaurs want. I'm not attached to this side, but it would still benefit me."
The nobleman's words were met with silence.
"The man who stood before the Kairan clan head ahead of me. Do you remember?"
"Yeah. An impressive warrior."
"My real goal is to duel that man. After defeating the Khan of the Wilderness and claiming the victory points, I plan to fight him."
*No matter the result, someone will gain an advantage. I could gain it, or my sister could. Neither is bad.*
"Unexpected answer."
"When I see that man, I sense something unknown and dangerous. I can't explain it exactly, but it feels like he's bringing a massive storm. If I cut off his momentum this time, I might slow that storm down."
"If the Kairan clan head had charged in himself, could that man have stopped him?"
"Probably."
He would have blocked it easily. I thought carefully. There was more to it.
*It wouldn't have been possible to cut off that man's momentum unless it was now.*
That thought had occurred to me.
"That day the clan head made a big mistake."
"It was a miscalculation. He couldn't have thought an orc would kill his heir."
The male exhaled heavily.
"Even if he was timid, his skill was certain. The orcs were quite strong, but if he hadn't been so stubbornly proud, he would have won easily. He brought death upon himself."
The heir had fought with his legs planted on the ground. That meant he had completely abandoned the mobility that was the centaur's greatest strength.
It was like fighting with an eagle's wings tied.
"Well."
The nobleman gave a wry smile.
"So our opinions differ."
"Yeah. That orc had white fur."
*
An orc sat on a rock, gazing coldly at the frozen ground below.
The moonlight illuminated the man.
Ordinary orcs had grayish-purple fur. But this man's was pure white. It proved he was an elderly man.
In an orc society that despised the weak, reaching old age in such a dignified manner was not something granted to anyone.
"Long time no see, Silver Wolf."
A bright and cheerful voice. The orc veteran turned his gaze.
"Ah, was my expression too plain?"
An elf stood there. Alone. A woman. She looked like a teenage girl.
"...A welcome visitor."
The exchange between the orc and the elf felt strangely calm. Almost bizarre. Because they were comfortable enough to bare their fangs at each other without hesitation.
In fact, the numerous pointed ears hanging from the veteran's neck were all elongated.
The elf approached without a care, the fearsome necklace of bound elf ears on the orc's neck not bothering him at all. She sat down comfortably, as if nothing were wrong.
"It's been a while since I came to Ainuwail. Things have changed a lot."
"Indeed?"
For other races, "a long time" was a vague expression.
How many orcs had died and how many had been reborn in that vague time?
Orcs usually considered themselves very old after thirty.
"Yeah. Why are there so many orcs? Nothing different from usual?"
Despite the woman's complaints, the orc veteran only chuckled.
"Ainuwail accepts every race, so there's no problem, is there?"
If everyone was treated equally, the orcs would qualify too.
There was no owner in Ainuwail. No one owned this land. Therefore, it was a no-man's land where anyone could come and go freely.
Even the wolves of winter could not monopolize this land, and perhaps even dragons could not.
If dragons had completely controlled Ainuwail, all the people and beasts of the steppe would have united to drive them out.
"Hmm. Yeah, that's true. So I'm not killing you, am I?"
A childlike face said it without a care.
"Hehe. I'm glad you understand."
The orc warrior did not take it as an insult.
He believed it was a fact.
He faced those cold, iron-like eyes.
"You killed a centaur recently, didn't you?"
"You figured it out?"
The veteran shook the long ears hanging from his necklace. The short fur sprouting from them made them look exactly like horse ears.
Of course, no orc would proudly wear horse ears.
"They haven't been long. I can tell from the condition. They look less than a month old. You attacked the centaurs after coming to Ainuwail?"
If so, impressive courage. The elf smiled.
"It was obtained in fair combat. Don't underestimate it."
"Really? Quite rare."
"What about you, ma'am?"
A female. She looked like a girl, so she wasn't someone to speak that way to.
Of course, guessing an elf's age by her face alone was foolish.
"I came to see someone, kid."
The aura she carried was not that of a young girl.
"The one the Imperial Sword Saint is looking for. Not an ordinary person."
"Hmm. You knew from the start? Makes sense. So you've been listening to my words."
"You can tell from this sword."
The warrior recognized the sword at her waist. The inscription on it represented the Ergior royal house of the prairie elves—the one of the Great Khan.
So she carried a sword personally bestowed by the Great Khan.
*And she possessed the skill to match it.*
She had walked into the chaotic orc territory alone. Naturally, as if strolling through her own front yard.
By now one could guess her identity.
The clan head of Arantor, known as the Aranthor clan.
Aranthor Muran.
"Many fools don't recognize it."
The woman who would soon be called the Imperial Sword Saint.
"Are you the leader of the orcs gathered here?"
The veteran shook his head. Surprise appeared on the woman's face for the first time. She seemed quite surprised.
"Really? Surprising. There are stronger orcs than you nearby?"
"Yes."
Muran snapped her fingers.
"Something's different. Are you planning something suspicious?"
"......"
"Yeah. I don't know what, but we'll see. In a place where so many centaurs are gathered, who knows what you can do."
The woman rose, still speaking lightly, as if nothing had happened.
"Ah, right. On the way here I killed all the orcs I met."
The orc veteran's silence followed the woman's light remark.
"I didn't recognize this sword, unlike you."
With a sigh of pity, Muran smiled.
*No images or additional blocks in this chapter.*