Customers Drawn by the Gale (5) – The Final Chapter
Ahshu drew nearer with a face that had finally relaxed.
“I believed the Baatar would make the correct decision.”
“Only rational thought.”
“Rational. As a merchant, that is always a word you keep close. I am glad you said it, Vesta-nim.”
Ahshu had stepped forward actively. She had won the bet, so she seemed ready to build genuine ties.
Vesta, curious about the Cameltaurus race itself more than Ahshu personally, did not avoid the conversation.
‘She is one of Ashtien’s favorite trading partners.’
He had no reason to give her a bad impression.
‘Anyway, she thinks I am Ashtien’s fiancé.’
Actually a contract relationship, yet her rudeness could tarnish the Khan’s reputation. He would need to be careful with his behavior.
Vesta searched for topics to keep the conversation going.
There was one question about camels that had been on his mind.
“Centaur riders normally avoid carrying people on their backs, but your caravan guards are different.”
Ahshu seemed pleased that he had asked.
“You were curious about that. Indeed, we do not find riding people so difficult.”
“Is there a special reason?”
“We have carried loads and people as a lifelong profession for thousands of years. Living in such a way, the discomfort is naturally less.”
After hearing her clear explanation, Vesta understood at once.
“But we are not mere porters. The desert is as harsh as the steppe, and we are the ones who travel between the two lands more than anyone else.”
“Ah-Al-Habdin!”
Ahshu called loudly for someone. The response was one Cameltaurus warrior and the man riding atop him.
‘Which one is Al-Habdin?’
The two men gave the salute of the mute.
‘His body is well-trained.’
The warrior’s body was unnaturally sculpted. The sort of physique that reminded Vesta of imperial gladiators.
Through inhumane training and systematic nutrition.
‘A combat slave.’
It was not a state one could reach by their own will. They controlled everything from what he ate to how he slept.
“He is the strongest bodyguard in the caravan.”
“Which one is Al-Habdin, sir?”
“The human warrior. The two are almost one and the same, so distinguishing them is meaningless.”
Even if the Cameltaurus did not know, the warrior was clearly seen as a slave.
Vesta knew that type well.
Most gladiators in the arena had come from slave backgrounds. If not a slave, then at best a death-row prisoner.
He had fought alongside them his entire life, so he understood the man’s lineage naturally.
The fighting spirit that had been learned in Al-Habdin’s eyes swirled fiercely.
“What weapon do you use?”
Al-Habdin did not answer.
“Vesta-nim. Al-Habdin does not understand Fairy Language. May I translate for him?”
With Vesta’s approval, Ahshu began speaking in the foreign tongue.
[Yes. Al-Habdin. The man beside me is the husband of the Arrow Princess.]
Vesta could not understand a single word.
Even if he had mastered the desert tongue, he would not have understood Ahshu.
It was gibberish only Ahshu and her slave could understand.
[How does he look? I heard he is a famous warrior these days. What do you think?]
[Difficult.]
[What do you mean?]
[When that warrior draws his sword, ‘we’ will be unable to protect you alone.]
[You, against this little one?]
‘What is she saying?’
The two were having a conversation Vesta could not follow.
Ahshu looked at Vesta with an expression that seemed to block the words.
“…He says he can handle almost any weapon.”
“Hmm. Is that so?”
Vesta nodded without knowing what they were discussing.
*
Ahshu seemed determined to leave a good impression on Vesta. She maintained perfect courtesy throughout.
Whenever Vesta asked about an item, she brought it in person.
Naturally, it was the highest quality available. For food items, she even offered them to sample for free.
“Ugh.”
Vesta bit into a date palm and frowned.
He had heard it was sweet, but the sweetness was beyond his imagination.
“Uuu.”
Vesta was not accustomed to sweet tastes. He was used to salty or bland ones. To him, the sweetness of the date palm was close to the tongue melting.
‘Does Bia like these?’
Vesta asked Ahshu while rinsing his mouth with water.
“Do you also sell in small quantities?”
He was not buying for himself, but as a gift for the centaur sisters. And incidentally, for his own mouth as well.
Of course, he wanted to bring some for Ashtien too.
“Does the Khan like date palms?”
She had already received plenty from him. Now that the caravan had arrived, she wanted to make a return gift.
She had to be disappointed that the Khan had never bought them directly.
‘He would like to buy something Ashtien would enjoy.’
Ahshu noticed Vesta’s expression and her eyes sparkled.
The first thing a merchant thought of was selling at a high price, and the second was sending gifts to those in power.
An appropriate gift campaign was almost the same as taking shortcuts in business.
People bought goods when they trusted others, and that trust came from goodwill.
“Vesta-nim.”
Ahshu’s mind was racing.
She was thinking this:
The famous Arrow Princess of the steppe had ended her solitary life and taken a new husband, so they must be eating each other alive.
She had met Vesta in person and decided he was not a mere signboard pushed aside by the Arrow Princess.
The two were already burning with passion, so she had prepared a lavish gift for them.
Incense burners with fragrant oil and various other items.
Specialty products that could make the boring desert life a little more pleasant.
Vesta pointed at one particularly striking item.
“What is this?”
“Clothes.”
“…You mean clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Do they cover the body?”
They had form, but the fabric was completely sheer. It looked as if someone had cut the hem of a night skirt and left it.
“Many people in this tribe have bought similar items.”
“Do you happen to know who?”
“Hoho. I can tell you. Asmur, Aruk, Altaira…”
“…That is enough.”
Ahshu tossed the gift onto him.
Even if he had wanted to refuse, he accepted the hem out of respect for her kindness.
‘Leave it in the corner, whatever.’
*
‘Trouble.’
Vesta broke out in cold sweat.
“Where are you in such a hurry?”
“Huh? No, nothing.”
While heading back to the tent, he ran into the Khan.
Vesta secretly avoided her gaze.
“Hm? You bought something from Ahshu, huh.”
“Y-yes, a date palm.”
Vesta handed the Khan a date palm.
“Impressive.”
The Khan’s eyes curved in delight at the gift.
“It is delicious.”
She stroked Vesta’s head. Vesta moved the item behind his back, as if the Khan was too close.
“Was that also my gift?”
“Definitely not.”
“If you hide it like that, I am curious.”
Vesta pulled the item back out.
The Khan looked at such Vesta in a strangely puzzled way.
Like a father watching a teenage boy.
She circled around Vesta. Vesta followed the Khan.
“What are you hiding?”
“Truly nothing.”
“If you bought gifts for Arin or Ahor, would I get angry?”
“Suddenly why the two names…”
The Khan approached quickly. Vesta, too close to the Khan, was overwhelmed by her eyes.
The words used to summon naiads in the Empire were not elf but naiad.
And according to legend, naiads could use magic to bewitch humans.
Vesta froze solid the instant the Khan’s face came so close he could almost touch it.
“It is wrapped in quite luxurious fabric.”
“That is not wrapping.”
The Khan thought the outer cloth was wrapping and unfolded it as is.
Flap.
The masculine night skirt that Vesta had wanted to hide most of all was revealed to the whole world.
“…?”
“Misunderstanding.”
“H-huh? Hmm.”
The Khan, rarely flustered, tried the clothes on herself.
“…Even so, this is not right, is it? It does not seem to serve the purpose of clothing.”
Vesta could not lift his face.
*
“Khan. The second caravan leader has arrived.”
After completing the transaction with Ahshu, the bluish darkness had come.
The Khan, with Bia at her side, welcomed the second caravan leader.
A huge-bodied Centaur.
Attila. The caravan leader Vesta had spoken with.
Unlike the Suan caravan, he had not directly entered the competition, so he entered the tribe the moment Ahshu finished trading.
Leading all other Centaurs, he alone sought out the Khan.
Ahor entered to serve tea.
“Hmm.”
It was the bitter tea he had ordered in advance. The Khan did not enjoy sweetness and needed the bitterness to wash away the strong sweetness of the date palm.
She had not shown it in front of Vesta.
The Khan brought the tea to her mouth and spoke.
“A Centaur caravan. What interesting work you are doing.”
The man opened his mouth while receiving wary glances from the Khan’s two close guards.
“With strong legs, I plan to lead the caravan to every place I can reach. Over mountains, across seas.”
“Your nature of wanting to reach as far as you can suits you well. Whether you can reach the sea beyond the mountains is another matter.”
The Khan’s sharp eyes looked directly at Attila.
“We will buy at fair price, so use it for guards.”
The Khan no longer needed it, but she paid willingly, thinking it was the price of blood from orcs.
For a deal that was unusually good for the Khan, she asked.
“Why must it be a caravan? What you do is no different from a mercenary band.”
“Mercenaries must follow the master they serve, so it feels frustrating for me.”
“You are a true Centaur. Very well. Let us assume you have gathered a caravan and become wealthy. What do you intend to obtain in that position?”
With her chin propped, the question came from Ashtien.
Her hand had left her chin.
It was when the man answered.
The man, Attila, answered.
The Empire, he said.