Those Who Stand at the Edge (3)
Vesta and Ushun attended the orcish banquet. The Keshik who had come to escort the two of them joined as well, though none of them looked pleased to be there.
They did not seem to expect a warm welcome from the orcs.
It reeks.
It was not the smell of rotting fish. It was the coppery tang of metal — which was to say, the smell of blood.
They had come to the heartland of a people who had chosen raw flesh in order to live in symbiosis with the wolfkin, so perhaps it couldn't be helped.
Not long after they arrived at the orcish quarters, they were brought before Karakh.
The King of the Orcs.
Jet-black fur and sharp, brilliant yellow eyes. A hardened, honed body. As befitted a man who claimed kingship over a nation of hunters, Karakh himself radiated the air of a warrior.
They did not meet him face to face alone.
There was no private chamber for a king to dwell in to begin with.
Karakh sat among his horde.
Like wild beasts.
They did not merely call themselves the Blue Wolves in name. They truly seemed to form one vast community, a pack of wolves in human shape.
Dozens of orc warriors were arrayed in a line before Karakh. They had to be the finest elite the horde had to offer.
One look at their necklaces made that plain.
Ushun spat a curse. It was in the elvish tongue, so only Vesta and the Keshik could understand it.
"Savage bastards. They invite an elf as an envoy, and then show up wearing necklaces."
Was it contempt for elves?
Or was it meant as an intimidation display?
"...Are we a joke to them?"
A murderous aura rolled off the Keshik. If Karakh had prepared his elite, then Ushun had brought nothing but her own.
Warriors who, were the worst to happen, would spill more blood than she ever could. Iron women who would see Vesta brought home alive no matter what calamity descended upon them.
As orc elite and elven elite settled into a tense standoff, Karakh stepped forward.
He was seated, chin resting on his hand.
"I'm not pleased the Khan didn't come in person, but the Master of the Wilderness will serve well enough as her proxy. You are welcome."
—This bastard is talking down to us? He actually thinks he's a real king.
Ushun swallowed her curse and kept the dignity of an envoy.
"And the human whelp beside you?"
"Human whelp, you say. Show respect to the consort of the Khan of the Wilderness."
"...Bestiarii Baatar. That Baatar?"
What?
It was unexpected. Karakh knew Vesta's name precisely.
How did he know?
The name Baatar was fairly well known by now, but the name Vesta should have meant nothing to him. And only a handful of people in the world knew the true meaning hidden inside that name — Bestiarii.
If he asked the Keshik standing behind him right now, more than half would admit they didn't know it. And yet Karakh, an orc, knew that name.
Frankly, it felt suspicious.
"Bigger than the rumors, and smaller than my expectations."
The reason he was bigger than the rumors was probably the growth spurt he'd had over the past year. The added weight had done its part too.
Still, next to the man before him, or to Ushun, he remained short.
Out on the Empire's frontier, my height wouldn't be all that small, you know.
Among farmers who often went hungry, he'd be perfectly ordinary. Considering Vesta was still a boy, he was tall for his age, at that.
"Baatar. Can you understand my words?"
Vesta glanced at Ushun. She gave a small nod. It was all right to speak.
"Yes."
"You're fairly famous on our side of the wastes too. Less your name than your deeds."
—I hear you carved up quite a few orcs this past spring.
Was he speaking of the fight against the orcs, alongside Arin? Yes, that had happened. Many people had praised Vesta's feat because of it.
But Vesta did not think of it as a feat, and he did not boast of it. If he could turn back time, he would never have left Lahan standing there to take that arrow.
He would have kept Arin's legs from breaking.
Even if it meant giving up all the gold, salt, and honor that had come from that day.
"It was a melee," Vesta said.
His eyes sank cold and still. He did not look away from Karakh's gaze.
Was the orc trying to make an issue of it?
"Anyone who knew the whole of that affair wouldn't raise it as one."
"Did you think I would? I have no intention of it. The blood the orcs spilled, the blood you spilled — it's all spilt water now, nothing more."
It struck Vesta as brazen, but then, he had no intention of dredging up Arin's and Lahan's injuries either.
Karakh was not a sovereign who commanded every orc alive. Bandits killing a man did not make the Emperor of the Empire answerable for it.
Karakh stared at Vesta intently, like a man searching for something in him.
He had held that same attitude from the very moment he first heard Vesta's name.
"...Let us eat first."
The meal was brought out by human slaves. Unlike Vesta, whose body was that of a warrior, they were skin and bone. It was not a pleasant sight.
"...You lack even basic consideration," Ushun said, her voice dropping low, like a beast's growl. Karakh pushed back as if he couldn't see the problem.
"A warrior feels no kinship with a slave."
Orcish society was divided into the chieftain, the hunters, the wolfkin and the rest of the orcs — and the slaves. And those ranks were kept with strict rigor.
"Entertain no foolish notions. Sharing a bloodline does not mean sharing a fate. Young warrior, you are not that human."
A hunter feels no kinship, no pity, looking upon a slave. That was the orcish order.
"I hear the elves do not drink raw blood?"
It wasn't that they never touched it, but it sat far outside elven food culture.
"The dishes were prepared by human hands. They should be fit to eat."
The Keshik stepped forward first to taste Vesta's and Ushun's food.
"Then, with your leave, I'll go first."
Time passed, and no reaction rose in her body. Ushun began her meal next, and only a long while after that did Vesta begin his.
Hm. Bland. And tough.
It was not a satisfying meal. Well, of course it wasn't — no human slave could hope to match Altaira's cooking.
While the elves filled their bellies with meat stew, the orcs tore into raw flesh like beasts.
They caught fresh blood in black cups made of goat horn, and passed them around to drink together.
Black cups. Blood running down the corners of mouths. Teeth gleaming red.
Like an army risen out of hell.
Ushun wiped her mouth and spoke.
"We thank you for your hospitality."
"It is a modest hospitality."
Karakh had provided food and drink, and Ushun and Vesta had shown the courtesy of finding no fault with either. With that, the customs of guest-right were observed.
Ushun turned to the matter at hand.
"What the Khan desires is peace at Ainuwail."
"Peace, you say..."
"I trust you understand what the Khan's wish means."
"That we're not to clash with the centaurs."
"It will not be a one-sided demand. The Khan will summon the centaur clan chiefs together and put an end to the wolf-killing."
Wolf-killing. It was a game that had spread like a craze of late. In truth, it hardly deserved to be called a game. It consisted of nothing more than stomping wolfkin to death and mocking the orcs.
"I see."
"This is no judgment of who was right or wrong, but it was the orcs who provoked the centaurs first."
Karakh did not deny it.
"I don't know what you hoped to gain by it, but do not stir up chaos. Such is the will of the Khan of the Wilderness."
Karakh stroked his beard.
"Is that a request from one king to another?"
Ushun and Vesta narrowed their eyes.
—Oh, would you look at this?
They could not agree to those words. For the sake of calming the orcs, they must not recognize Karakh as a king.
If Ushun affirmed it here, it would amount to the Khan of the Wilderness, Ashtien, recognizing Karakh's throne.
—The bastard can scheme after all.
"You seem to be under a misunderstanding. It is not a request."
"Then what is it?"
"The Khan rules not only the elves but the centaurs besides. In the work of guarding her people's safety, the word 'request' has no place. This is a legitimate proposal."
"A proposal. A proposal, you say."
The hand stroking his beard went still.
"You do not think of me as a king."
Ushun did not answer. Because she did not answer, Karakh looked to Vesta instead. The consort. The mate of the queen. The one who knew the person called the Khan of the Wilderness better than anyone alive.
"Well? Does it seem to you that the Khan of the Wilderness recognizes me as a king?"
Ushun opened her mouth with clear displeasure, intent on cutting off the question.
Vesta was a superb warrior, but green in politics. No suitable answer could be expected of him.
But before Ushun could speak, Vesta opened his mouth.
"Does recognition matter?"
Vesta looked Karakh dead in the eye.
—It matters.
Yes, of course it would. Vesta knew at least that much. Authority flows from recognition.
"From the King of the Orcs. Is the recognition of an elven Khan truly so precious to you?"
On the steppe, Ergior's authority was absolute; without their recognition, no ruler was treated as a king by the other races.
But that was importance in the political sense.
Did the authority of the orcs flow from politics?
To a king of hunters and a king of predators. To a king of wolves. Could the logic of men, of the hunted, be applied to him?
Ought it to be?
—That man does not want for demands and bargains.
He was a wolf himself. Because he willed it, he made himself a warrior. He lived as he proclaimed. The man simply proved himself.
At Vesta's words, Karakh fell silent.
"Karakh. A great beast does not beg."
"Then tell me."
The air tightened. Ushun shifted her seated position, ready for anything.
"What of you? Do you regard me as a king?"
"Hard to say."
Karakh bared his teeth.
"Answer me!"
"Mind your tongue!"
Vesta weighed his answer. Perhaps silence would have been best. But he did not want to be silent.
"You cannot be my king."
Karakh surged to his feet.
"What do you think you're doing!"
The odds that he had moved to harm Vesta were slim. But Ushun was taking no chances with Karakh's behavior.
Rising from her seat, she planted herself squarely in front of Vesta.
The Keshik and the orcs sprang up together and fell into formation.
And through the space between them—
Tap.
The first drops of rain began to fall.