We Return to the Wilderness

The first thing Vesta did upon returning to the tribe was feed salt to the horse that had worked so hard.

The black horse stretched out its tongue and sucked at the rock salt as if it meant to inhale the whole lump.

"You did well. I'll be counting on you tomorrow, too."

Thinking they might have grown a little closer, Vesta draped an arm around the horse's neck.

Prrrrh.

The horse rolled its eyes and shook its head violently. One more touch and it looked ready to take his fingers off.

"That temper of yours, I swear."

Whether it understood him or not, the beast started raising hell. Vesta gave up trying to soothe it and slipped away into his own tent.

Thwack—

"Tch."

Vesta looked quietly down at his bruised finger. He had been trying to ease the bowstring when the bow's body snapped back and struck him. The finger was already beginning to swell.

"Still making too many mistakes."

It was the kind of error even a child on the steppe would not make. After a brief moment of self-reproach, he went to pick up the arrow that had flown far off.

"......"

As he drew near the doorway to retrieve it, a peculiar presence brushed against his senses.

"Who's there?"

No answer came.

"Ahor? Is that you, Ahor?"

He called the name of the one who crossed his threshold most often, but again there was no reply.

—Hah.

Only a sigh, as if something were thoroughly displeasing.

"Who in the world..."

The flap was yanked open.

"It is I."

"?"

An appearance he had not expected in the slightest. Why would the Khan show up all of a sudden? Vesta's eyes went round.

"Why do you seek Ahor so? Have you entrusted her with something?"

At the Khan's words, Vesta lowered his gaze. She stared at him, then shook her head, and looked slowly around the room.

"A bleak place."

"I have no talent for decorating, I'm afraid."

"Live long enough and things will accumulate of their own accord."

Vesta still did not know why she had come. He opened his mouth carefully.

"May I ask what brings you here?"

"Why do you think I have come?"

"I truly don't know."

The Khan gave a small laugh.

"I have come to enjoy a tryst. Vesta, make ready to go out."

"Make ready, you say?"

"Dress warmly, that is all. There is a place I would take you, for a little while."

At her words, Vesta hurriedly put on his clothes. Even as he layered them on, he kept glancing at the Khan. The sight of her sitting in that barren room felt strangely unfamiliar.

"Will this do?"

"It will. Let us go before the sun sets."

Stepping out of the tent, Vesta took hold of his horse's reins. Unwilling to work twice in one day, the horse rolled its eyes.

"Calm down. Whether you like it or not, we have to go. You mean to refuse the word of your master's master?"

Of course the horse did not understand. When Vesta tried to force himself onto its back, it pulled off that supposedly difficult sidestep and drifted neatly away.

As he pleaded with the beast, the Khan approached.

"What are you doing?"

"The horse is being willful, that's all."

"Is that so?"

She held out her hand without hesitation. Vesta tried to stop her. What if it bit her?

Hihiiing.

But to his astonishment, the horse did not refuse the Khan's touch.

"Will you not help me?"

When it received her hand, there was no more obedient creature in the world. Vesta felt almost betrayed. Grumbling, he climbed onto its back.

"From now on, your name is Ganshinbae. Sycophant."

Puhing—

The horse snorted as if to say, Don't talk nonsense.

He urged it after the Khan, who rode ahead.

"You're going without anyone to accompany you?"

"Of course. It can hardly be called a tryst if we are not two. And do not tell Ahor, of whom you are so fond."

"Why would you say that..."

The Khan looked at Vesta with a playful expression. He was flustered, but he followed her and rode hard. Leaving the tribe behind took no time at all.

"It'll be dark soon!"

Conversation from the backs of galloping horses was rather difficult.

"Are you afraid of the dark?"

"And you, Khan?"

"I have never feared anything, so I would not know."

It was an answer so plainly unfeigned that it startled him. Since she had answered, Vesta spoke his own ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heart.

"I don't much care for it."

"Is that so? Unexpected."

It was not that Vesta was a timid child afraid of nightfall. The darkness itself did not frighten him.

It was only that once the darkness lifted, the sun rose again. And he had been afraid of starting another day.

"...I didn't say I was afraid, exactly."

"No? But if the dark ever does frighten you, you may come to me and act spoiled."

When she said it she was looking straight ahead, so Vesta could not see her face.

Night came rolling in from behind them. Vesta had the sensation of fleeing far from that darkness—together with the Khan, very far indeed.

"We have arrived."

So saying, the Khan dismounted. Vesta followed.

"Where is this?"

What sort of place had she brought him to, even using the word tryst? He was honestly curious.

"Look there, if you would."

Vesta looked in the direction she indicated.

"...It's vast. So vast it feels endless."

The wilderness. The Infinite Wilderness.

A colossal, distant, eternal earth unfurled before them, enough to knock the breath from the chest.

"This is the land I inherited from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the moment I was born."

Surely no lord had ever possessed a domain so wide. Perhaps not even a king. Watching Vesta's pure wonder, the Khan spoke as if in a whisper.

"If you marry me, this land will soon be yours."

An outrageous thing to say. He could not believe she meant it in earnest.

"Long ago, the one you humans call emperor coveted this land as well. He came with tens of thousands of horses, warriors, and nobles."

Vesta knew that much history. Imperial folk used to mock the emperor's folly for accepting astronomical losses just to seize a stretch of worthless steppe.

He no longer thought he could laugh at the man. He, too, had been enchanted—by the infinity this land offered, by a majesty that seemed to declare itself beyond the conquest of human hands.

The Khan drew Vesta into a light embrace.

"......"

"But he had to turn back without gaining so much as a handspan of it. Vesta, can you believe it?"

That I am trying to give you what even an emperor could not obtain.

"Why?"

Vesta caught her wrist.

"How can you do this? What is it about me that you trust? I simply cannot..."

Was it truly because of that mystic power she was said to possess? Was Ashtien the sort of woman who would act this way on that alone?

The Khan smiled. A proud, upright smile.

"Is it something that must not be trusted?"

"Ashtien. That thing you called mystic power..."

While Vesta could find no words to answer, the Khan stepped back from him. She stood before him and blotted out the night. The darkness at her back seemed to burn because of her.

"I told you I would give you a gift."

"Yes. You did."

"Here. This is my gift. Will you accept it?"

Vesta received what she held out with both hands. A one-handed curved saber, sheathed in a scabbard of fine quality.

"The elven craftsmen vouched that it was no ordinary piece."

"It certainly looks that way."

"And more than anything, that blade is—"

The Khan pointed to her own waist. Vesta's eyes went wide.

"A Twin Saber. You and I shall each keep one."

That meant this blade was the complete equal of the one the Khan herself used.

"There were larger, heavier ones, and ones more in the imperial style. But I decided to give you this. Or perhaps I had made up my mind long, long ago."

"Because they are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Twin Sabers?"

"Yes. That way you will think of me more often. Of me, not of Ahor."

Hearing her playful words, Vesta nodded.

"Thank you. I'll treat it with care."

"A blade is something to be used boldly when it must be used. I would rather say that—but yes. Treat it with care."

The Khan caught the back of Vesta's neck. In the instant he startled, she pressed her forehead to his.

It was warm. No—it was hot. Very hot.

"Then,"

Something welled up in Vesta's chest as he opened his mouth.

"With this blade, I will... you..."

The Khan stopped his lips with a finger.

"Shh—"

Her mysterious golden eyes looked at Vesta. Those eyes seemed to see through to the depths of him—to his very soul.

"Not yet. You cannot say that to me yet. You must not."

"...I see. Yes. You're right."

Vesta had not yet made his decision. What he felt toward the Khan was closer to gratitude. The Khan was the master of the steppe—and that also meant she could not leave it. For an outsider from the Empire to say he would protect such a Khan was close to deception. The very falsehood she so despised.

"There is still much time. Ahead of us remain a little spring and summer, and autumn and winter as well. And the spring that will come again."

So whispering, the Khan drew away from Vesta.

"Let us go back, Vesta."

Go back, and greet the dawn again. This time fearing nothing—

Meet again, at dawn.

That was what the Khan told Vesta.