The Season of Summer Arrives (2) – Chapter 1 Interlude (1)
Altaira accepted Vesta’s request without hesitation. “Making **sutecha** is no problem at all.”
She immediately headed toward the flock of sheep.
“Isn’t fresh milk used today?”
“Spring is almost over, and it’s time we started stocking up on our own provisions,” Altaira replied, her tone carrying a fresh note of surprise.
“And these animals are almost entirely the Khan’s property. In a sense, they belong to you as well.”
“Hmm…”
“If you feel like drinking, you may have fresh milk anytime.”
She would not get angry with the Khan for taking a little milk meant for the lambs.
“Come, shall we begin with one of these?”
Altaira climbed onto the sheep’s back. She balanced herself using her two thighs to keep the animal steady.
With the sheep’s body firmly held, Altaira continued her unusual routine. *Tap. Tap.*
She slapped the sheep’s udder quite hard with her palm.
Noticing Vesta’s puzzled gaze, Altaira smiled faintly.
“If you do this before milking the sheep’s milk, the milk flows more freely.”
According to her, when a lamb first tried to suckle, it would butt its head against the mother’s udder. Imitating that with a human hand made the milk start flowing sooner.
*Meek.*
“Isn’t it angry?”
“Well, I would get angry too if someone came to do this…”
Altaira stroked the sheep’s neck.
*Meow.*
The lamb, sensing the unfamiliar scent of human milk, approached the mother.
“Perfect timing.”
The lamb nuzzled its head against the mother’s udder as Altaira had said, then began nursing.
“Before we milk properly, it’s best to let the lamb suckle first. That stimulates the udder, and the milk flows better.”
Once she judged the lamb had eaten enough, Altaira set it aside and started milking. The sheep barely reacted.
“So gentle.”
“She’s grown used to it. At first she would make a huge fuss and couldn’t even be milked by herself.”
Altaira rose after she finished milking.
“This should be enough.”
Now they could add a little water and tea leaves to brew the **sutecha**.
“You came to fetch it yourself, so this must be a tea gathering with someone other than the Khan.”
It was rare for Vesta. For him, tea gatherings had become half-fixed times spent with the Khan.
“I was on my way to visit a patient. Someone mentioned they wanted to sing while drinking tea.”
“Visiting a patient narrows it down to two possibilities, and it can’t be Rahan. He must have Asmur preparing everything meticulously. Hehe. I know who it is.”
*
Vesta arrived in front of the treatment room where Arin stayed, cup in hand.
He only needed to call her name from the doorway.
*Knock.*
Vesta swallowed hard.
It was Arin’s voice coming from beyond the door.
“Ah… ugh… it’s piercing…”
Vesta could guess the kind of pain she was feeling just from her groans.
It was a throbbing pain. A pain that pierced the bones. A stinging pain.
“I have painkillers. Please don’t worry.”
The woman who was called *Damo* by Bia spoke in a calm voice.
*Huuu… huuu…*
Arin’s rough breathing came through clearly.
*Huuu.*
Arin’s breathing slowly regained steadiness.
“Why… are you doing this? All of a sudden… it hurts so much…”
“It’s natural. The pain will soon subside. You should get some sleep.”
“No. I have a promise…”
Vesta stood silently and waited for Arin. He waited until she finished all her preparations and could smile.
And he reminded himself to play along with Arin’s act.
“Lots of sweat.”
“I’ll dry you off before the guest arrives.”
Soon the doctor opened the door and stepped out. She noticed Vesta but gave no sign, simply bowing her head slightly.
Vesta bowed deeper than she did.
“Arin, I’m here.”
“Eh, yes! Come in!”
When Vesta opened the door, Arin was there—yet somehow different from before.
He did not point it out. He acted like a boy who was slightly late for a promised appointment and had no grounds for complaint.
*
“I was completely naked until just now. What a shame you missed the show.”
“I wasn’t interested.”
“Even though it was the part humans usually like best? No? Vesta-ssi preferred the lower part, didn’t you~?”
*Sigh.*
“…What? What kind of reaction is that?”
When Vesta showed no interest, Arin lifted her teacup with a petulant expression.
“Ugh. The tea has already gone cold.”
“Mm. Indeed.”
It tasted decent, but a slight bitterness lingered.
“Still, you brought it because of me? Thank you.”
“I made it with the intention of drinking it myself.”
“Eee, you’re lying.”
Vesta shrugged and took a sip of the tea.
“You drink tea like the Khan.”
“Is that so? I haven’t had the opportunity to try it.”
“Couples really are couples.”
“If I were truly that person’s husband, Arin would be playing cheeky pranks on the Khan’s husband.”
Arin chuckled.
“I can’t even imagine what the Khan’s jealous face would look like like other women do. That’s why I tease her like this.”
“Treating it as just a joke is fine.”
The Khan’s generosity went beyond boldness into audacity. Arin seemed to tease her, relying on that generosity.
“Her personality is like Asmur’s.”
[ **Vesta.** Where were you? **Vesta.** **Vesta.** **Vesta.** **Vesta.** **Vesta.** Huh? ]
“Ugh.”
“Right?”
The conversation topic had shifted to Ashtien, so the next speaker was naturally her as well.
“The Khan has been here a few times.”
“I heard she said that.”
When the topic of moving came up, Arin had said there was no point in delaying. After all, whether the **ordo** carried them now or later, it would make little difference.
*Ordo.* The enormous mobile felt tents used by the Khans. Arin had even used one to escort the clan.
Because Ashtien did not often visit, it was only called upon for patient transport or moving supplies.
“She probably won’t be long before preparing for the move. She might even start trade with the caravan.”
“It’ll take less effort to sell off the stored supplies and move.”
“Indeed. Wolf-hide, sheep wool. Oh, and goat wool too.”
It was something Vesta himself didn’t know well, but goat wool fetched a higher price than sheep wool. Precisely because of the breed of goat the Khan kept.
‘Cashmere? I think it was called that.’
Cashmere or Kashmira or something like that.
“Rahan the brat said his fever has gone down.”
“Ah, Rahan. You mean he came for the visit?”
“Yes.”
Arin spoke openly about what she had done with Rahan.
“He was downcast after seeing my leg. He said his own leg also has a bit of a problem, so it made sense.”
Arin gave a bitter laugh. Almost a rueful smile.
“He didn’t say it outright, but his eyes looked worried whether he would be able to walk properly again. That was the feeling.”
“What did you answer?”
“What could I say? If he’s that worried, he should learn to ride a horse better. You can be a warrior even if you can’t walk, if you can shoot an arrow while riding.”
Centaur language was straight.
“Even if we fight on two legs touching the ground, we can only reach about half of the Baatar’s level, so he shut up.”
“Hey, why me again? You always do this.”
“Listen. It seemed like he was asking me for forgiveness. I’ve never hated him, but if playing a little narrow-minded lets me move him, then I’ll do it.”
“Narrow-minded?”
“Riding or archery—when I eventually beat you, I’ll forgive you. How was it? Wasn’t that a pretty good answer?”
“Did you think of it yourself?”
“Huh?”
She was honestly a little impressed.
Outwardly it sounded cold, but there was quite a depth to the words.
Rahan had been given a reason to break free from the abyss, and she herself would recover from her wounds and return as a warrior—words that were no different from a comforting message.
It must have brought great comfort to Rahan.
Sometimes Arin looked childish and shallow, but she did show her deeper self like this from time to time.
*
“So? That’s a proper Arin answer.”
The Khan nodded. Vesta followed behind her, stepping in her shadow.
“No matter how badly her legs are broken, they cannot ruin that single person’s personality.”
“The people of the clan all seem so tough.”
“Girls raised under the harsh wind, aren’t they? Tough, and their eyes brimming with courage.”
“Indeed.”
“Arin’s tolerance can be called courage.”
The Khan pointed in one direction.
“I can! I can too!”
Ushun was there, playing with the fairy children. She tossed the lambs piled with wool into the air and laughed boisterously.
She lowered herself in front of the children.
“That too is courage.”
The Khan pointed at Ahor gently stroking the wolf-man’s belly.
“That too is courage.”
And far away, Rahan leaning on a crutch with Asmur’s help.
“That too is courage.”
Vesta agreed with her words.
There was one question he wanted to ask.
“Then what about the Khan’s courage?”
There were few beings as courageously bold as her.
Yet she had once said she had never felt fear.
For someone who knows no fear, courage is also a strange emotion. What others would find shocking would be perfectly natural to her.
She did not know what courage was to her, only that she was curious about it.
“My courage. Yeah…”
The Khan strode toward Vesta.
At that moment.
*Tap.*
A raindrop fell.
“That is my Baatar—my courage—whom I named with my own hand.”
*Shwaaash-*
The moment the Khan finished speaking, rain began to pour.
It was an early spring rain that fell quickly on the steppe. It soaked the vast prairie equally deeply, whether for the great fairy queen or the boy born of iron.
The rain was not as cold as it seemed.
It was a rather strange occurrence. A rain defying the coolness of the steppe.
“…Spring has ended.”
Many things had happened during spring.
Of course they would.
Like arrows, and like the rain falling now, they would fly away to the distant other side.
Flowers fall with the seasons. Words and actions live only for a moment.
What does not die with the seasons is only memory. It is memory that revives with the seasons.
Even if Vesta someday leaves the steppe, when spring comes, she would be remembered.
She was no longer a personal feeling. She had already become an existence that could never be forgotten.
She had already claimed Vesta’s spring. It could be seen as conquest.
“Summer is coming.”
Yes.
The spring in which they met had inevitably ended.
But the Khan would not yield.
She was not a woman satisfied with spring. The Khan would come to claim summer as well.
The spring that belonged to the Khan was lost.
And
Thus summer arrives. (End)