The Wind-Borne Guests (3)
While Vesta waited for the caravan masters, Ashtien was conferring with Ahor about a certain matter.
"This has become a headache."
Ahor regarded her Khan with a questioning look. It was rare for Ashtien to speak in such terms.
The Khan pointed to a harpy that had been tearing at a carpet in a far corner of her quarters. The harpy answered to her finger.
"Kan. Kan."
Harpies, as a rule, could not pronounce Khan. That was surely what it had meant to say.
"You've already received the report that a harpy flew in, I take it."
"Yes."
"Ahor. That was a harpy sent by my mother."
The person whom Ashtien—Khan of the Wilderness, seated upon a khan's throne—called Mother.
"The Great Khan..."
It had borne no insignia whatsoever. Who would have imagined it was a messenger of the Great Khan.
Did she send it not as Great Khan, but as a parent?
Ashtien tapped the end of her eyebrow and nodded.
"I don't care for it."
The Great Khan and Ashtien. The relationship between the two elves was not a particularly poor one. The Great Khan prized Ashtien's martial prowess and insight, and regarded her as a daughter to be proud of—at least, that was how Ahor understood it. Ashtien, for her part, had never truly taken issue with the Great Khan's policies, nor raised her hand against them.
If a new spark of conflict had kindled between mother and daughter, it would be because of something that had recently changed. Ahor could guess only one thing.
"Is it because of Lord Vesta?"
"Yes. Our Great Khan seems quite interested."
The Khan made no effort to hide her displeasure.
"That old woman. As if her daughter couldn't manage her own affairs."
Ahor had little trouble reading the Great Khan's intent.
She can't easily accept a human as her son-in-law.
On the Khan's own lands, no one could oppose it. And would the other khans be any different? A sovereign's marriage was a matter the sovereign decided herself. Who else could presume to meddle with the Khan of the Wilderness, who stood between the Empire and the wilds?
There is only one person who could.
The first among the Steppe. The Great Khan, and head of the Ergior bloodline. Her, and her alone.
The first caravan master to seek Vesta out was Ahshu, representative of the caravan side. The slender Cameltaurus woman sat with her knees neatly together.
"It is an honor to meet a warrior of the Steppe."
Ahshu bowed her head without hesitation. She praised Vesta without mentioning the Khan—a declaration that she would respect him as an individual.
Vesta did not look away from her eyes. In those heavily painted eyes, he felt a stubborn will.
If things had gone differently, I wouldn't even have been able to meet her gaze.
Had he not been chosen by the Khan, that would certainly have been the case.
We might have met in the desert as slave and master.
"I hear you've traded with the Khan for several years already."
Ahshu did not deny it. That history alone was enough for Vesta to hold her in high regard.
Once, on the open wilderness, the Khan had said that. And a person who could say such a thing never offered trust without meaning it.
I don't know how much the Khan trusts Ahshu, but...
"I regret that we meet under such unfortunate circumstances."
"I have no intention of holding it against you."
"Then I am glad."
"I hope we can settle this without it becoming a serious matter."
"Our caravan has no desire whatsoever to clash with the beastfolk merchants."
She clearly considered it not even worth the trouble. Even a war of nerves only meant something when the two sides were of comparable weight.
"But yielding is difficult. Is that what you're saying?"
Vesta asked without ornament, going straight to the point. Ahshu answered without hesitation.
"If Lord Baatar makes a decision, we will follow it without complaint. But we have no intention of yielding first."
Ahshu laid out her view.
"The caravan master said the only loss we would suffer is a little time. I cannot agree with that."
"Because the very fact of having yielded would be a loss."
Ahshu's eyes lit slightly at Vesta's reply.
"Exactly so. A caravan's journey across the desert roads is, at its foundation, a venture undertaken at enormous cost and risk."
To put it without exaggeration, it is not so different from a conquering sovereign's campaign.
Vesta had come from the Empire, a nation fattened by conquering sovereigns. Ahshu's analogy sounded rather plausible.
"Even limiting ourselves to this journey, we have endured countless dangers, accidents, and attempts at persuasion. We overcame them all and arrived on the Steppe—to protect our money, and the standing of our caravan."
Standing even more than money. That's the real issue.
"I would prefer to avoid anything that might crack our position."
It was certainly not a matter of pride alone. It would also harm the caravan's political standing. In short, it was a matter of face. Even as she said this, she respected Vesta's authority.
"I will abide by Lord Baatar's decision. But the caravan cannot open the road of its own accord."
For the beastfolk merchant, money itself was at stake; for Ahshu, it was face.
Now that I've stepped in, yielding is even less possible.
From the moment Bia and Vesta had arranged this meeting, it had left the realm of mere concession. It had become a contest. Even if Vesta and the Khan did not see it that way, everyone else would. If she lost to a merchant of smaller scale, everyone would begin to doubt her ability. A great deal hung in the balance for Ahshu.
Even so, she repeatedly declared that she would respect Vesta's choice.
She's not simply showing respect. She's saying she can even abandon her own face for the sake of my authority.
Even if she lost, she wanted to forge a connection with Vesta—no, with the Baatar.
Not that she intends to lose in the first place.
Ahshu's eyes were not those of someone who had given up.
"I do not dismiss the potential of the Steppe, but I do not believe the beastfolk merchants have prepared goods superior to ours."
Ahshu came forward with confidence, saying she would welcome being judged in a public setting.
"It's capital erosion."
"Capital erosion."
"Capital is not infinite, and the wisest method is to keep money circulating within."
"Go on."
"Since the caravan began its journeys across the desert roads, it is impossible even to estimate how much money they have taken in."
"Because they sell goods that don't come from the Steppe."
To merchants operating within the Steppe, they must have been like a mirage.
"The desert road has punched a hole in the Steppe's capital, as good as."
"That's why you call it capital erosion?"
"Yes. If this continues, the Steppe will be at the caravan's mercy. That is no different from economic subjugation."
The merchant seemed determined to cast the caravan as an enemy of the Steppe's economy, and to instill wariness in Vesta.
"You're ranging a bit far afield."
Vesta cut him off at a suitable point. He had no intention of discussing the Steppe's political situation with the man. The beastfolk merchant's eyes shifted slightly. Had his scheme to talk Vesta into a corner fallen through?
We should be talking about the journey at hand.
Vesta had spent years serving an eccentric who muttered only whatever he wanted to say. He knew well how to listen just enough, then cut in at the right moment. He looked the beastfolk merchant straight in the eye and spoke—bluntly.
"How are the goods?"
"Well."
"The caravan was quite confident. They said they'd be happy to lay out both sides' wares and have their quality judged."
"...To be honest, the ones with the better goods are the caravan."
The merchant confessed more weakly than Vesta had expected. Vesta needled him on it.
"This is a trading journey to the Khan, is it not? Quantity aside, if even the quality of the goods is inferior, there is no reason to favor you."
"All we ask is to enter the tribe one day ahead of the caravan. We seek no greater favor than that, and we have no intention of replacing the caravan."
They wouldn't be able to, anyway. The beastfolk merchant began trying to persuade Vesta.
"The Khan is a sovereign. The wealth we have accumulated is, in the end, power that the Khan holds. We would be content if the Khan simply purchased our goods at a 'fair price.'"
The fair price he spoke of would be the price of goods that had not been left in the shade by the caravan.
"Purchasing from us is also a way of supporting a 'caravan of the Steppe.' Wealth does not leak outward, but circulates within the Steppe."
He was saying the Khan would not be consuming unilaterally, but investing in the future.
"Please invest one day of the caravan's time in us, the Khan's subjects of the Steppe."
The merchant bowed his head deeply. Vesta, who had listened to every word without interrupting, answered.
"I see."
The merchant's face brightened. Vesta asked a question.
"Do you know who I came with today?"
"I understand you came with Lady Bia and her attendant."
"Both of them were thoroughly taken with the sweetness of dates."
"...People from the desert have all but monopolized the very concept of sweetness."
"I hear centaurs have a tendency to be drawn to sweet things. The caravan has secured a rather fine customer base."
"Lord Baatar. That is—"
"It's a good strategy, using good material."
The merchant did not let his expression show. In truth, his face did not lean to either side. What was certain was that it was not a look of relief.
"What has your company prepared?"
Vesta continued.
"Let's set aside quantity and quality of goods for now. I will think of this not as buying merchandise, but as employing people—as an investment."
As he spoke on, Vesta noticed one fact: that a beastfolk's smiling face was not so different from a beast's head with its teeth bared. It was not threatening. At least, not to Vesta.
"Have you devised insight and strategy superior to the caravan's?"
It would never happen—but even if the beastfolk before him opened his jaws and lunged, Vesta would not so much as blink. He was a man who had come from the arena.
"To face a strong opponent, you first have to think about how to make the best use of the weapons you have. What is that strategy?"
You people.
"Do you have the qualifications to receive the Khan's—her—investment?"
You've been doing nothing but asking since earlier.
"Do you have the qualifications to receive her investment~?"
"Stop it."
"Her, her... haha. I think the Khan would like that."
Bia squealed with laughter. Vesta dragged a hand down his face.
"Now only the centaur caravan master is left. We should finish quickly and head back."
"Haa."
Vesta steeled himself to face the last of the merchants.