The Khan Approaches (1)
From today onward, if any elf declares themselves a pacifist,
Vesta let out a low groan, his thoughts churning like the sand beneath the storm.
‘They claim they’re a naturally good race.’
Was it because elves, by their very nature, surpassed humans in beauty and grace? People had always carried prejudices against them.
Even without a teacher like him to speak for the matter.
Some insisted elves were herbivorous beasts, their bodies bloated from devouring only grass.
‘What a ridiculous claim.’
Among those Vesta knew, even the elf scholar who had conducted the most research on the subject had scoffed.
Imagine an elf with a bulging belly, their innards enlarged like those of grazing animals.
[Elves are beautiful, perfect beings, therefore such flaws cannot exist.]
‘I clicked my tongue back then, but Master is indeed correct.’
It was the insight of an association chairman down to the letter.
Vesta knew nothing of how forest elves lived, but for the prairie elves of the steppe, Master’s words had always held the truth.
A wild, pungent meat scent hung in the air—nothing like the faint aroma of sheep or pigs.
It was the unmistakable, earthy scent of mutton.
Even the mutton of those without the faintest hint of offal.
‘If the “elves-are-herbivore” supporters could see this, they would faint dead away.’
The elves sat in a loose circle, casually tearing into ribs they had bound their captured humans with.
‘Pacifists? With blood this vibrant.’
Though no one could prove it, they seemed to eat meat far more than the average imperial citizen.
They were no herbivorous beasts, not even true vegetarians.
Then, according to the rumor of the day, were the elves truly pacifists?
They had only clashed swords because the Empire had declared war—did that mean they were a noble race that truly loved peace?
‘Wherever did you find a kind slave trader.’
Vesta was in the hands of those very elves.
Case closed.
“Master, what have you pursued your entire life?”
Vesta stared at the elf women with hollow eyes.
One elf beauty, her thumb still glistening with oil, swept her gaze across the captives.
“When does the market open again?”
“Winter is long gone—soon enough.”
“Money, money, money.”
The women spoke without thick accents. If a speaker of elven fairy tongue like himself had been there, he would have understood every word.
They spoke of buying and selling people as if it were the most ordinary business—clearly seasoned slave dealers.
‘On the steppe, it’s the elves who capture and sell humans, not human slave traders.’
Elf slave merchants. Not even human ones.
Where money was concerned, species clearly meant nothing.
“Oh, right. I heard one of the newcomers spoke our language when he was captured.”
My story.
Vesta’s nerves prickled. He could sense they were speaking of him.
“Who was it? The one over there?”
“No, that side.”
“Ah, the woolly-haired kid?”
Woolly-haired? They called someone with a messy head of hair “woolly”?
‘How casually they speak of people.’
“So fluffy and cute.”
“Exactly. I think I’ll take him.”
“There’s another human over there. Go buy him and bring him back.”
“...I might actually do that. You’re only after money, but I’m serious about marriage.”
The conversation had taken a strange turn.
‘Surely I’m not about to be kidnapped for marriage like this?’
Bride kidnapping was supposedly a border phenomenon. The term sounded like marriage, but it was nothing more than human trafficking.
‘I heard most cases at least pay the bride price properly.’
In the rough nomadic society, they might simply take someone rather than pull such shabby tricks?
“An older woman who’s greedy. Once captured, she should just get married right away—there’s no need to haggle over the goods.”
“Hey, you, you’re my mom?”
The elf woman who had been eyeing Vesta with disgust now fixed her gaze on him intently.
Vesta lowered his eyes to avoid drawing attention.
“Compared to elven men… hmm~? He seems to be avoiding my eyes?”
“He understood our language. His ears are really sharp.”
Perhaps their gaze had been too direct. The elf women’s interest shifted noticeably.
“Sister, what do you think?”
“Sister? Mom age?”
‘They’re sizing me up.’
If they really bought him… what then?
Vesta could not stop imagining it. The scenario felt far too real.
Somehow, the collar on his neck made him shiver.
‘I have to free myself.’
He wriggled subtly, but it was useless. Their skill was flawless.
“Then give me the mom instead.”
“Whoa, look at this kid. He’s lost it. Hehe.”
The elves laughed and slapped each other’s shoulders. For a Vesta who had grown up orphaned, the choice was strangely tempting.
‘Absolutely not.’
It made no sense. Even if a stranger suddenly offered to be both mom and wife, it would be an utter nightmare.
‘I have to escape.’
Being dragged off the steppe was out of the question.
“Go marry my sister. If you can’t choose anyone, you’ll be sold as a slave?”
“That’s right. The steppe is one thing, but the Desert Realm is even worse. Half the people who go there never return. At your size, a desert manticore would swallow you whole.”
“You’re serious?”
The women’s resolve was clearly hardening. That was good, at least—anything was better than being sold to the desert.
Vesta swallowed hard as three women suddenly entered the tent.
“Oh, you’re here.”
“Were you looking for me?”
“Not me. Him.”
It was the woman who had tossed the noose at Vesta with a smile.
She was also the owner who currently held his ownership.
“Can I buy this little one?”
The elf’s long fingers pointed straight at Vesta. The matter seemed resolved.
“Sorry, not right now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you hear? The Khan is coming here.”
“Suddenly?”
‘Khan? The Khan?’
A Khan was the leader who commanded the steppe elves. They could not be compared one-to-one to the Emperor, but under the Great Khan, there were Khans who were either royal heirs or high nobles.
In the Empire, they were seen as commanders of demon legions.
“Which Khan is coming?”
“Arrow Princess.”
“What? Really?”
The conversation shifted in an instant.
“Right. You haven’t married yet?”
“You haven’t even held your coming-of-age ceremony?”
“Him? The prospective groom isn’t even coming here.”
“Well, the supplies are running low, so she might be coming to buy.”
“Did you run into a sandstorm?”
With three women talking at once, the exchange became a blur. Vesta’s head spun.
How long had they been conversing? Their ears twitched, and silence fell.
‘They’re sharp. It doesn’t take long to figure it out.’
Long ears meant sharp hearing, apparently. Tension crept into the women’s expressions for the first time.
“...He’s here.”
“And he’s coming this way.”
Before long, the tent flap was lifted. The three women stepped back.
One woman entered.
‘Whoa.’
She was beautiful. No, she was a fairy of beauty itself.
Her beauty was complete—young when viewed as a woman, yet simultaneously the ripe, perfect girl.
Golden. Raging flames and blooming wildflowers.
Just looking into her eyes, those words came to mind.
The woman before him carried an unmistakable aura. Vesta, who had met many people in his life, found her more dignified than any.
“It is an honor to meet the renowned Khan.”
“Indeed. Are those the ones?”
“The prospective bridegrooms.”
“I see.”
The Khan showed no particular interest in the “prospective groom” system.
“My supplies of salt for the horses ran out, and since new humans have arrived…”
“I gathered every human I heard you were coming to collect.”
“Why go to such lengths? I’ll only be looking…”
Her gaze, which should have been cold or indifferent, swept over the prospective grooms and suddenly fixed on one spot.
“……”
“Tell me, why are you staring at that boy?”
“H-he is the one I brought.”
“Is that so? Then may I take him as well? I will pay a fair price.”
The elf woman’s face hardened at the Khan’s blunt words. She did not hesitate long.
“I’ll allow it.”
The Khan nodded and walked straight to Vesta.
“Can you understand me? What is your name?”
“Vesta… it is.”
“So, Vesta.”
The Khan lowered her stance. Vesta instinctively met her eyes. She sliced through the ropes binding him.
The Khan took his hand.
“My name is Ergior Ashtien.”
Ergior Ashtien. A name that felt both steppe and elven—mysterious and beautiful.
‘Ergior Ashtien.’
The name sank deep without hesitation.
“Can you stand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let us prepare to leave.”
The Khan stepped outside first.
Vesta glanced at the three elves one last time, then followed.
The Khan waited for him to emerge and led him naturally.
“Welcome.”
A feminine voice greeted the Khan first. Vesta had to crane his neck to look up.
She was a centaur. Dressed in steppe and foreign armor, wearing a helmet.
He had heard the steppe was their paradise, but he had never seen such a perfectly majestic centaur.
“Yes. Let us return.”
“The human behind us…”
“Is my prospective husband.”
“What?”
Behind the centaur’s startled expression, the Khan added one more thing.
Vesta opened his mouth hesitantly.
“Where… where are we going?”
The Khan looked back at him with a soft smile.
“To the home we will live in.”
Behind her words lay an endless expanse of prairie.