Sharing the Wilds: Gifts and Bonds on the Prairie
In the boundless expanse of the prairie where the wind sang its endless song through the endless sea of grass, a simple question had once hung in the air like a promise of better days to come. A young human boy had been left in their care, and the thought crossed Vesta’s mind that perhaps he should have brought him a gift. After all, what did these nomadic souls truly cherish in their hearts?
“Perhaps for a young man like me… but wait—”
“Oh, even the married ones are keeping quiet—how dare you, of all people?”
“What now?”
Ushun’s chance to speak was snatched away in an instant.
“I don’t understand why people like me can play so freely with the young boys,” Ushun protested, her voice thick with wounded pride. In truth, she had been a street urchin since childhood, and while she might not know men, she knew young boys like the back of her hand.
“If I had just kept my nose from running back then, I’d have eight husbands by now.”
“How many tears did you shed? Eight husbands running off at the mere mention of tears?”
“Oi. You think this gathering happened because we were handing out gifts to friends? That’s ridiculous.”
Arin’s clear, bright voice rang out as she delivered a playful slap to Ushun’s arm.
“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”
“So, what exactly does the Khan think we should give?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Speaking of which, didn’t she already gift us a horse?”
The women turned as one when Ahor spoke.
“A horse? Oh, was that the horse the Khan herself presented to us?”
“Didn’t you see the brands? I heard she said we could choose any we liked.”
“Oh my.”
“For us, that already sounds like a dowry has been paid.”
The Khan’s lips curved in a satisfied smile as she answered.
“That’s true. It is indeed a gift. But look over there.”
Every eye turned toward the spot where the Khan had gestured.
“A werewolf pelt, you say?”
“It’s a bit mixed with the dogs we raise back home.”
“It was presented to me by my consort after he hunted it.”
The Khan declared this with open pride.
“Ugh, how adorable~”
The Khan nodded approvingly.
“Indeed?”
“......”
A heavy silence fell over the entire gathering.
*Indeed?*
The women fell speechless.
The Khan, as always, found the lack of immediate response strange. She swept her gaze across the group.
Only then did they speak.
“Y-yes… even though it looks young, it has a sturdy build.”
“He certainly has that sturdy quality. You fight with such precision.”
“Learned it, no doubt. Even the Khan herself wouldn’t call that swordsmanship.”
“It’s not proper swordsmanship at all.”
Ushun’s comment drew a reaction from Bia.
“What a shame. I would have loved to see it.”
“Purely brutal.”
From beside her, Arin, who had been kneeling with her legs folded, gave Arok a sharp poke.
“What did you think of it?”
Bia, too, fixed her gaze on Arok with clear curiosity.
“Arok. You’re a master of plain walking swordsmanship, aren’t you?”
It was rare for a centaur to praise another race’s close-combat skills.
Arin had already called her an expert, and Bia had no objection.
“Not even an expert.”
Arok waved her hand in dismissal.
“Well, like Ushun said, it has a raw, unpolished feel rather than true swordsmanship.”
“So what’s the real level?”
Arok opened her mouth to answer, then paused at the Khan’s gaze.
“Speak freely.”
“Yes, of course. As a sword technique, it’s terrible. No room for improvement. It seems the habits were already too deeply ingrained.”
“Really? Hmph. That’s a high standard.”
Arok stroked her chin and continued.
“At first I wondered why such habits formed. Why doesn’t the wielder relax the wrist when swinging? Why does he grip it so tightly, as if about to break it? Those are basic things you learn the moment you pick up a sword.”
“You’ve observed closely.”
The Khan nodded. Bia imagined Vesta’s sword path through Arok’s words.
“These are habits too deeply etched into the body to be corrected. Given that it happened at such a young age, there must have been a very good reason he couldn’t afford to drop his weapon.”
“The reason?”
“Pure speculation, but… I think he must have competed with adults from a very young age. The moment he relaxed, the sword would fly away, and he would be left without any meaningful impact to strike back.”
Ushun grunted in agreement.
“So the conclusion is?”
“An inadequate swordsman. But an outstanding fighter.”
“Same as my evaluation.”
“Exactly. I’m more like my sister than me.”
Bia nodded. She herself had learned proper swordsmanship, but most centaur warriors did not; they were simply born strong.
It was nearly impossible for a creature that lived standing on two legs to withstand centaur magic.
In that case,
just as those born strong remained strong,
perhaps those who had lived strongly also became strong.
Like Vesta. Like that young warrior.
—He must have grown fierce from battling those who hunted centaurs.
Bia had guessed this because she thought of Vesta as a centaur lover.
—Strength forged to protect centaurs. It was quite…
The evaluation of Vesta rose two full steps.
“I may have been blunt, but his combat ability is genuine.”
Arok spoke again.
“…And perhaps she didn’t show everything in front of us.”
Of course that was unlikely. After all, she was there.
—Even the things I witnessed that day were only a tiny fraction…
“Ridiculous.”
That little brat claiming to be the empire’s greatest swordsman? At his age?
“Exactly. That’s ridiculous.”
Arok agreed. Bia quickly changed the subject before the atmosphere grew too strange.
“Considering his age, the evaluation is understandable, but such high praise for swordsmanship from Arok is rare.”
“True.”
“How about gifting a fine blade as well?”
“That’s…”
Ahor opened her mouth to object but fell silent.
—Wouldn’t that be dangerous?
Yet the words carried the scent of suspicion for any nomad who worshipped the Khan’s strength. Even Ahor herself felt the same unease.
—As Ahor, you would dare—
—speak ill of the great Khan Ashtien to her consort? Would you make me the fool who couldn’t even give a single blade?
That would be mocking the martial spirit of the warrior Ashtien. It would mock the great elven queen, the Khan herself.
If she did not wish to become a laughingstock, she must remain silent.
“Do you have another opinion, Ahor?”
“No, Khan.”
The Khan stared at her deeply, then nodded.
“A blade, then. Yes. Certainly. We’ll give the mare a saddle and the longbow a suit of mail. My consort will use them well.”
“Well, even without Vesta, it’s an item that would drive young boys wild.”
Ushun, who claimed to play often with young boys, vouched for it.
“The blade’s value is high, so it would suit the Khan’s dignity perfectly.”
“Yes. I like it. I wanted to give such a gift.”
“Useful, always portable, not a one-use consumable, yet high value?”
“Haha. Yes. Exactly such a gift.”
The Khan nodded as if a long-standing blood clot had finally been cleared.
“Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I’ve been holding back even from a consort.”
“Did my answer please you?”
“Very much. I’m completely satisfied.”
The Khan praised Bia lavishly. Amid the laughter and chuckles, Ushun’s lips puffed out.
“…Isn’t the unmarried supposed to have no right to speak?”
Bia and Ushun were both unmarried, yet somehow their treatment differed.
“Shh. Not being able to do something and not doing something are different.”
“…Kill me?”
Apart from Ushun’s grumbling, the meeting had been a satisfying one.
*
“Eek.”
While the Khan chose her gifts with genuine care, Vesta was instead playing with Orolbai’s children.
They rolled together across the prairie in the nomadic wrestling style that everyone—young and old alike—found endlessly entertaining.
Orolbai’s two young sons lunged at Vesta with fierce enthusiasm, but Vesta never managed to throw them. They tumbled across the dirt in defeat.
One had already given up and fled.
It had begun innocently enough: the two boys wrestling each other, Vesta showing mild interest.
Orolbai’s sons had declared that they would teach their guest the art.
The situation grew complicated.
Though she didn’t fully understand, the boys clearly held some competitive spirit toward Vesta.
They respected their father Orolbai, who respected Vesta, so they did not behave arrogantly.
Yet for some reason they wanted to beat him—and wanted it quite badly.
The second boy rose again, flames of determination burning in his eyes.
“Ready?”
“Yes, Father.” “Yes.”
Orolbai raised his hand to signal the start.
“Hyaaah!”
The little elf poured every ounce of strength into flipping Vesta.
Vesta did not fall. The child’s technique was simply too weak; strength alone meant nothing.
“Legs open!”
The moment Vesta stepped into the gap, the boy toppled over.
The child struggled to his feet, panting.
“Have you ever even tried prairie wrestling… yet you’re this strong…”
Vesta only shrugged.
The boy, feeling a little stung by the attention, bit his lip tightly shut.
*He provoked me.*
Vesta noticed the shift in emotion and glanced at Orolbai.
Orolbai nodded. The boy prepared to wrestle again, face set in displeasure.
“Start!”
The instant the signal came, the child charged. He threw his whole weight against Vesta, trying to knock him down.
It was a simple, slow, easy attack that left the boy wide open.
“Huh?”
Vesta sidestepped. He seized the unprotected thigh, lifted, and slammed the child to the ground.
“Ugh.”
He pressed two fingers into the rigid neck of the log-like boy.
“Ugh.”
“Never.”
“Ugh…”
“You must swear you will never fall.”
To the elf boy lying flat on his back, Vesta’s face was swallowed by shadow.
His eyes, unlike the child’s, were dark, almost black.
“......”
“If you face the ground, you can’t dodge with your small body. Understand?”
“Then…?”
“It ends. Right?”
The boy nodded. Vesta smiled faintly and helped him up.
The child retreated a few steps, glancing nervously at Vesta. When Vesta waved, the boy fled in humiliated embarrassment.
Orolbai gave a thumbs-up. It was the human gesture.
“Another match?”
“Haha. No thanks.”
Orolbai laughed heartily.
“The boys seem to have some rivalry toward the consort. If it bothers you…”
“Not at all. It’s no big deal.”
From Vesta’s perspective, it was no different from picking up a sword.
[Little one.]
[Why are you holding a blade? At night?]
[Sorry. Sorry, little one.]
[...What’s the matter?]
[Die. Please. Before the match starts.]
Truly.
“But I don’t know why they’re so riled up.”
“Because of the pelt my consort brought back. He saw it hanging outside.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He found out who caught it. Since the age difference isn’t huge, it seems they’re feeling more competitive than admiring.”
“Haha. Indeed.”
“Children idolize what adults do, but when a peer achieves it, they feel jealousy instead.”
“Jealousy too?”
“They’ll keep shaking until their hearts grow strong enough.”
Orolbai gazed at his son with a mixture of gentleness and strictness.
“…I’m envious.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone around me has been a failure.”
The expression Orolbai saw on Vesta’s face was impossible to describe—half hatred, half longing, utterly complex.
*
“Khan.”
“Why the call?”
“When will you deliver the gifts?”
The Khan smirked.
“You ask that? Naturally.”
—I plan to present them today.