The Desert Blooms with Flowers (1)
The nomadic elf woman’s words drew Vesta into swift, bustling motion. He was currently dismantling a tent, lending a hand to the task.
In truth, the young man who had long been known as the Khan’s fiancé had no need to perform such menial duties. If he wandered about with his pack on his back, no one would scold him.
Yet his very nature set him apart from the haughty nobility of the Empire. He had thrown himself into assisting the elves with their relocation preparations.
Along the horizon, the tents that had once stood in disorder now lay stripped bare, their skeletal frames exposed.
“The bones were made of wood,” Uushun observed, her sleeves rolled high and her thick arms bared. She had caught Vesta’s quiet admiration and continued with a knowing nod. “If a thing cannot be moved, it was never truly yours to begin with. This is only natural for us.”
Steam rose in white curls from her powerful frame as she worked.
—Krrreeee.
The camels, burdened and unhappy, spat and snorted in irritation.
“Loading a pack isn’t child’s play,” she added. “Even the slightest imbalance can send a camel tumbling.”
“That’s why we need the touch of true experts.”
Uushun gave her own chest a confident smack and grinned. “The loads look heavy. Think we can manage them all?”
“These ones here won’t even reach the limit. The herders should be here any moment…”
—Here they come. Oh my, so many.
—They seem even more than before.
Caravan herders arrived behind the camels and horses, led by Orolbai.
“Unbelievable,” Vesta muttered, squinting.
Even with rough estimates, the number approached a thousand.
*
He had never imagined such a sight.
Hundreds of camels and hundreds of horses, their backs laden with packs and riders, following the Khan. A procession worthy of a king.
As large beasts like horses churned up clouds of dust, their numbers swelled—goats and sheep trotting eagerly behind. The elf riders on horseback never ceased urging the animals forward, keeping them in line.
It was the march of beasts preparing for the coming summer, a spectacle so grand it felt like the Khan’s triumphal procession.
And for once, Vesta stood among the victors.
……
For a boy who had come from the Empire, the vision carried no real weight of reality.
I must be a foreigner after all.
The steppe he had grown accustomed to now revealed another face. Vesta felt a strange unease and spotted the Khan’s back.
She had every right to remain inside her traveling yurt and ride comfortably, yet she insisted on guiding the column herself.
Was she simply bored with the yurt? No—that could not be it.
Arin, the wounded, lay inside the yurt. She would have had someone to talk to; she couldn’t have been bored.
Vesta could not guess why the Khan herself had chosen to ride.
She looks almost alone.
Ahor and Bia rode close beside her, yet the space right at her side stood empty.
Vesta reached over and gave Gansinbae a light tap on the neck. The horse shook its mane and flicked Vesta’s hand away, then trotted forward on its own.
No matter who spoke, this was the Khan’s horse. With its superior bloodline, it read its rider’s will as naturally as breathing.
The Khan, Ashtien, noticed Vesta approaching and called out.
“You’ve finally arrived.”
“Hm?”
“…Finished.”
The slight edge in the Khan’s tone made Vesta hurry forward.
“Ride a little closer.”
“Yes.”
He drew near enough that his knee nearly brushed hers. Ashtien slipped something around his neck.
“Ugh.”
Chilly, metallic. A necklace?
“Khan…?”
“I didn’t buy it with any such intention, but it does look like a leash.”
Her unwavering stare felt suddenly intimidating.
When Vesta flinched, Ashtien let out a soft laugh and stepped back.
Vesta touched the object. It was indeed a necklace.
Honestly, it wasn’t the kind of gift that moved one deeply.
A man wearing a necklace?
In the gladiatorial arenas of the Empire, where only the roughest, strongest warriors gathered, such an item would have earned only scorn.
[A necklace?]
[A necklace? A man? A necklace? A gladiator?]
Any fighter who walked around wearing one would have been stared at with open suspicion and forced to explain the story behind it in public.
[Look at this design. It’s my beloved drawn here.]
[Oh, if it’s that kind of thing, I’ll look away! Wait a second.]
[This picture. Is it a man?]
[Indeed.]
[?]
Such things had happened.
“Does it not please you?” the Khan asked.
“Not that. I’m simply unused to the feel of a necklace.”
“I bought it in case you lost your way during the relocation. This way you can ask for help if needed.”
“Treating me like a child.” Vesta answered a little gruffly.
“I’m old enough not to become a lost child.”
“Haha. I’d love to drop you in the middle of the steppe and see what happens.”
Hearing those words, Vesta realized that once separated, finding one’s way would be nearly impossible. How did one choose direction in a land where every direction looked the same?
“Empire men don’t wear necklaces, do they?”
“That’s right.”
“Perhaps you’ll even need earrings later?”
“Earrings… well, maybe not. A necklace is already enough.”
“Ah.”
Ashtien narrowed her eyes.
“You tried to dress me in such masculine clothes, yet you won’t even wear the necklace I prepared with such good intent?”
Bia and Ahor’s gazes sharpened like arrows. Eyes wide, protective.
Overwhelmed by the women’s stares, Vesta fell silent and shrank back.
“It’s not that… but—”
Resigned, he accepted the necklace.
Inside his head, the wild voices of dead warriors grumbled on.
[Look at that! He’s wearing a necklace!]
[A necklace? A man? A necklace? A gladiator?]
[That beast has become a leashed puppy. Dying for this feels strangely unfair!]
Damn it. Get out of my head, you ghosts.
Dead humans talked too much for no reason.
“Look here, Vesta.”
Ashtien pointed with an outstretched hand while Vesta still mentally erased the faces of the dead.
“Whoa.”
A world made entirely of sand. A desert.
“Is that the desert?”
“Yes. Not Ahshu’s actual desert, but the boundary between desert and steppe.”
Though not as vast as an ocean of sand, the sight was enough to astonish Vesta, who had come from the Empire.
Ashtien smiled contentedly. “You may go if you wish.”
She led him away from the column for a moment. The elves turned their gazes toward the Khan. Sensing the shift, Ahor quietly slowed the pace.
Thud.
Unlike the sound of stepping on mud, the crunch under their feet felt entirely different. The Khan and Vesta walked slowly along the sandy path, as though two young lovers strolled along a beach.
Bia, watching them, murmured, “Do you suppose she knows?”
Ahor glanced sideways, as if the question were aimed at her.
“That she changed the route just to show this landscape?”
“Nonsense. There was another reason.”
“Still… it was close to a pretext.”
Ahor gave a short sigh.
Far from the two women’s exchange, the Queen of the elves and the Empire youth walked side by side, both appearing quietly content.
Once off his horse, Vesta scooped up a handful of sand and flung it at Gansinbae’s leg.
Hi-hee.
The horse lifted both legs and snorted defiantly, then spun and kicked a cloud of sand back.
“Wait—”
Vesta lunged forward, but a long, pale hand seized his wrist and pulled him back.
As expected, it was Ashtien.
“Be careful.”
She brushed the necklace he had been given.
Her fingers moved along it like tightening a noose, tracing upward.
“Your body is precious, and I hold no small stake in it. If you are hurt, I suffer too.”
Vesta felt a chill at her touch.
Whether playful or not, Ashtien smirked and let go.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
The question had been one Vesta could never have imagined.
Standing on a world that was both incomplete and unstable.
“…It’s strange.”
“Only that?”
—It’s quite beautiful, too.
Ashtien did not respond. She believed beauty and desolation had nothing to do with each other.
In truth, the two men shared the same impression of the desert: incomplete, unstable, dangerous. Only the elves had added their own slight twist.
Is it possible I feel safe beside this person?
“Look over there. A caravan.”
A caravan from beyond the desert.
“They seem… not quite normal.”
Weary, perhaps?
No, it’s more than that.
Her shoulders had slumped slightly.
Ashtien felt the same unease and narrowed her eyes.
She summoned the caravan master.
*
The master prostrated himself before the Khan.
“The desert path has trouble?”
“Yes. The situation is dire.”
“Your chosen route was already known to be treacherous.”
“It was worse than usual. Even the number of antlions…”
Vesta leaned in and asked Bia in a half-whisper.
“What are antlions?”
“I’ve only heard rumors about the desert.”
“Allow me to explain.”
Uushun moved to Vesta’s side.
“It’s a worm that lives by shoving its enormous rear into sand pits. It sucks the blood of any creature that falls in—man, camel, horse, nothing escapes.”
“Just hearing it is enough to give you a headache.”
“If someone had to pick one creature from this world that they wanted eradicated, it would be that.”
The caravan master raised his voice.
“It wasn’t only antlions.”
“What, a manticore? Then I’ll go catch it.”
“I didn’t see any manticore.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
He sounded genuinely disappointed.
After all, hunting was one of the few pleasures she allowed herself.
For the steppe animals, it was a cruel truth.
“Orogoi horohoi. That’s the problem.”
*Orogoi, horohoi?*
Two words that rarely crossed paths.
Intestine worm? Or something?
“…It was an adult?”
“Yes. One of those insects wiped out an entire caravan.”
“Ah. Bad luck.”
Ashtien shook her head. She rarely wore such an expression of disgust.
After the conversation ended, the Khan returned.
“The desert path is a vital trade route for us as well. If caravans keep getting lost, we suffer too.”
“The Khan is right.”
“Since we’re passing anyway, let’s deal with the problem and move on.”
The Khan surveyed the group and declared.
“We’ll head to the oasis.”
Oasis. Soon to be called flower field.
A flower field in this desert?
An incongruous word in a parched land.