Reunion (2) — Finale
“Go on, then. Have your reunion, master and pupil. I shall not stand in your way.”
Ashtien glanced to her side. Vesta turned his head to follow her gaze.
“Well, if it isn't the little ground-grubber.”
There stood a face he had missed dearly.
“Master.”
Too young to be called an old man, yet too weathered to pass for a youth — that was the face he remembered. Or rather, it almost was.
He's gotten even more grizzled, hasn't he.
His features had changed considerably. Clearly, life had not been kind to him of late.
Who knew that sour mug of his could look so welcome.
They had parted in early spring. Now, looking back, spring had long since ended, and summer was all but spent as well. Even a rough calculation put it at nearly half a year.
Half a year was hardly an eternity — but it was more than enough time for longing to pile up.
“Master.”
Gladness quickened Vesta's steps.
He closed the distance in a single stride and threw his arms around his master the way one greets an old friend. A brief, hearty embrace.
“Have you been keeping well?”
“Keeping well, you ask?”
Huh.
Something extraordinary churned beneath the words. The old man was grinding his teeth, his whole body trembling.
“Er, hm.”
Vesta had expected a warm welcome. This seemed to be steering somewhere else entirely.
“Do I look like I've been keeping well?”
Hostility seeped out, thread by thread, from between his clenched teeth.
“Honestly? No, not really.”
“While you were living carefree and happy among the elves, I — I!”
Ahak spat out his pent-up resentment.
In truth, he wanted nothing more than to shriek at the top of his lungs. Only that, he felt, would drain the flood of grievance he'd been holding back all this time.
If only the Khan hadn't been there...!
Had it been otherwise, he would have screamed it straight into Vesta's ear, brimming with grudges and envy alike.
“Now hold on, I had my share of hardships too, you know.”
“Hardships? Harrrrdships?”
The man's face twisted into a sneer, drawing out the word.
For an instant, Vesta felt the urge to clock his master right across the face. He restrained himself, of course. He'd had plenty of practice.
“I understand you suffered, Master. But I wasn't exactly idling either. Do you have any idea how many times I fought in that half year?”
It had begun with the giant dog-man, then the orc legions, the sail-backed lizard corps, the colossal armored insect, the snow leopard, the centaur, the great warrior they called Radiance...
And at the very end, Narinhoon Ibatar himself.
As if that had been all. There was every chance he might yet have to face a dragon that ruled the skies.
“I've been living earnestly too, thank you very much.”
His master, refusing to acknowledge any of that suffering, was beyond galling. Vesta shot Ahak a sidelong glare and grumbled.
The old man flared up.
“Hey, you brat. Would you rather suffer under kind, beautiful elf sisters — or under beast bastards that tear living flesh off the bone?”
“...The elves, obviously.”
Ahak launched into a passionate oration declaring that if the position came with serving elves, he would embrace even a life of slavery with joy.
You're saying this to a former gladiator slave.
Vesta wanted to give him a piece of his mind — did slavery look easy to him?
But this man really would have enjoyed it, wouldn't he.
“I was locked in an orc prison until yesterday, you punk!”
Ahak glared at Vesta with bloodshot eyes. The injustice of it all brimmed in his gaze, thick with grief and fury. It was hard to look at straight-on. Vesta averted his eyes and muttered.
“What does that have to do with me, though?”
Wasn't this an unfair accusation? And yet, on closer reflection, not entirely. In Ahak's mind, it was even less so.
“You become the Khan's own betrothed, and it never even occurred to you to look for your own master, is that it?!”
Struck square in a sore spot, Vesta coughed awkwardly.
“Ahem. No, well. That wasn't my intention.”
On this point, he had no defense. He had his own circumstances, of course — but nothing that would sound like a meaningful excuse to the man himself. Saying it aloud would only make him sound petty.
Frankly speaking, he had been negligent. He'd wasted time doubting Ashtien and asked for help too late. By then, the crucial moment had already slipped past.
That was my mistake.
So he could not claim to be blameless.
“If only you had put in a good word with the Khan...!”
He had nothing to say. He avoided the man's gaze and offered what he could.
“Well. Reckon I owe you an apology, then.”
“You little basraaaard...!”
Ahak's fingers twitched as if itching to strangle Vesta's throat. But Vesta was hardly the sort to be cowed by such a flimsy threat.
He was a fighter of tremendous skill. Physical intimidation simply did not register with him anymore.
“Oh come now, why such harsh words?”
“You've grown. You've grown so much!”
“Speaking that informally in front of the Khan's betrothed, though. Don't you think that's a bit much?”
The old man's face crumpled.
“Kidding. Just kidding.”
I want to slug him just once...!
But it was impossible. The brat would slip out of reach without even trying.
“Besides, whose idea was it to come to the steppe in the first place? Yours, Master. Thanks to your absurd, hare-brained scheme, look at everything that's happened these past six months.”
Realizing the blame was being turned back on him, Vesta moved to deflect it.
“Well, look at this. Now it's all my fault, is it?”
“Not just now — I've blamed you every hour of every day.”
Frankly speaking, he had it coming, hadn't he?
Wasn't that damn international marriage scheme what had landed everyone in this mess? When you got right down to it, every last one of these events traced back to his master.
“You ingrate. Without me, do you think you could ever have become the Khan's betrothed? Think it over. I'm the reason your life bloomed.”
“Ah, damn it.”
“Am I wrong?”
That, too, was hard to dispute. Without his master, Vesta would never have come to the steppe — and would never have met Ashtien.
“I taught you the language, taught you common sense, gave you everything I had — and this is the thanks I get, really?”
“Ah, why do you have to make me feel so guilty?”
The truth was, his master's instruction in the elven tongue had proven invaluable.
Vesta conceded defeat and raised both hands.
“Fine — I admit it was because of you. And I admit it was thanks to you. I admit everything.”
Because of that, he had faced countless enemies and lived through countless events. And because of that, he had made many friends. He had met Ashtien.
Far more good had come of it all than bad.
Back when the elf slavers caught me, I figured my life had taken a disastrous turn. Who could've guessed it would come to this?
Vesta extended a hand toward his master, who was still huffing and puffing in lingering indignation.
“I'm glad you're safe, Master.”
Ahak eyed the outstretched hand with distaste — then, grudgingly, took hold of it anyway.
Vesta spoke.
“Welcome to the steppe.”
Hearing those words, Ahak felt something strange stir in his chest.
The student has surpassed the teacher, hasn't he.
And yet the feeling was not an unpleasant one. If anything, it was funny.
“Half a year to cross the Wasteland — and now, at last, the steppe.”
“Glad to have you here.”
The two men clasped hands and nodded to one another.
“You knew about the orcs' plan, Master?”
“Found out by accident. Blame this cursed curiosity of mine.”
“You didn't actually join the plan, did you?”
If he had, it could have turned into a very serious matter. Faced with that suspicious look, Ahak scowled.
“You think I would?”
“Well.”
If he'd sold out the Empire, or humanity, Vesta would have taken the suspicion seriously. The man was more than capable of it.
But selling out elves? Never. That much was certain.
“What if the plan had been to destroy the Empire instead of the steppe?”
“That one I'd have had to think about.”
Typical, shameless human that he was. Vesta chuckled, and the conversation rolled on.
“There's no telling what the dragon will do. Go down with the refugees, Master. Please.”
“Not going.”
“Ugh, honestly.”
Another standoff.
“What will you do if you die like this? If you die now, won't you close your eyes full of regret?”
Hadn't he finally reached the steppe he'd longed for all his life? If only for the sake of his future, surely he ought to preserve that life of his.
“And what about you?”
“I'm staying, of course. Obviously.”
“What's obvious about it? You might end up fighting a dragon, and the word 'obviously' just comes out of your mouth?”
Ahak grimaced as though questioning the man's sanity.
“I have a position to hold, that's all.”
“A position, eh.”
Ahak scratched his jaw and asked.
“Are you going to marry her?”
Vesta looked away and grumbled.
“I don't know. What kind of question is that, anyway?”
“If you don't know, you've got no business standing there.”
Their eyes met again. His master's expression was grave.
“Don't stake your life on anything you're not certain of. A life is not some trifle you can toss away lightly.”
Vesta nodded. His master asked.
“So you're going?”
“Yes.”
“Stubborn to the bone, as ever.”
“And who did I learn that from, I wonder?”
Ahak set down his teacup.
“Is it worth staking your life on?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Why so?”
There was no particular reason. It was simply what he felt. But if he had to convince someone — if he had to offer up some plausible justification —
“It's about protecting the Fairy Queen from the dragon, isn't it? If it were you, Master, I imagine you'd have told me to protect her even if it cost me my life.”
Bwahaha—!
Ahak threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“That I would have! But that's a reason that sounds like me, not a reason that sounds like you, wouldn't you say, Bestiarius?”
“Then how about this: I want to be the first Bestiarius in history to slay a dragon.”
“Ooh, now that's rather dashing?”
This time Vesta couldn't hold it in either, and burst out laughing.
“Good enough for me. Then I can't very well stop you. Go.”
Go, and see it done.
“Yes. I'll be off, then.”
The pupil bowed his head low —
and the master wished his pupil good fortune on the road ahead.