Summer Tales and a Glorious Homecoming
Ashtien sat across from Ahor and Bia in the quiet of the tent, her voice steady yet warm as she spoke of the events in the desert.
“I must tell you what happened there.”
The two women, having mentally prepared themselves over the course of the journey, could no longer hide the surprise on their faces.
“…Wow.”
Bia’s mouth fell open in a soft, involuntary gasp.
“Isn’t it embarrassing?” Ahor asked, her tone carefully neutral.
“Of course it was embarrassing,” Ashtien replied, recalling the day with a faint smile. She placed one hand gently over her chest. “I trembled quite a bit.”
Ahor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That… that was not a very ladylike thing to do.”
“Are you certain the person standing before you is truly the Arrow Princess?”
“Who else could it be? You white-haired troublemaker.”
Ashtien waved a hand, telling her to stop teasing. “It seems even my own heart wasn’t made of stone after all.”
She murmured the words with quiet dignity, then took a delicate sip of tea. Though her posture remained elegant, the gesture of tilting the cup betrayed a hint of awkwardness.
“…Ah.”
Bia, for all her composure, could not hide her shock. Ashtien watched her for a moment, then shook her head with a rueful chuckle. “It seems I spoke nonsense before the young ladies.”
“Young ladies?”
Bia’s cheeks flushed with indignation, not anger but sheer bewilderment. Only a few months earlier she herself had still been called a girl.
*The world really is unpredictable. That saying proves true.*
Ashtien had always been the most unflinching when it came to matters of the heart. Her reputation for remaining single her entire life had been well-earned.
Yet a sliver of betrayal still pricked her. “Honestly, I never imagined the Khan’s man would prefer young boys like Asmur.”
“Mm…?”
“A taste for little boys?”
“Not exactly, but…”
“It’s already clear to everyone.”
Ashtien stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Watching you grow is not such a terrible thing. You’re quite cute.”
“Cute… yes, I suppose you do look rather fluffy.”
“Fluffy?”
“Fluffy…” Ahor agreed without hesitation.
“Actually, you’re extremely fluffy. Like a lamb.”
“Yet beneath that softness lies the heart of a wolf. In the truest sense.”
“You’re not far from a lamb, either. Perhaps a wolf, after all…”
She fell into a brief reverie, then spoke with renewed energy. “So does that make me the first elf on this steppe to tame a wolf?”
Bia laughed outright at the words. “You speak with overflowing pride.”
“Of course. But even if I cannot tame one, it is not a terrible thing.”
“That is an unexpected remark.”
“It would be interesting, wouldn’t it? A side of me you haven’t seen before.”
*
Ashtien had left her closest companions behind, and Vesta now sat alone beneath the open sky, staring upward in silence.
He needed to sort through the whirlwind of emotions.
“Falling in love at first sight…”
Ashtien’s reply echoed endlessly in his mind. The memories of the Empire lay piled high like unfinished business.
*Master is still missing, isn’t he?*
Honestly, he had almost forgotten. The man was far too resilient for Vesta to worry too deeply.
*Still, it’s strangely quiet. I should look for a way to move first.*
Ashtien might know something; even if she could not easily discover the whereabouts of an orc, she was the Khan and might have heard whispers.
“Let me bring it up first,” he decided aloud.
He rose and walked down the gentle slope toward the summer territory of the tribe.
The open fields unfolded before him, vast and bright. Tents were pitched in wide-open spaces so the wind could flow freely.
*They say this is how the summer grounds are set up.*
Since the Khan would stay here for the season, the placement made perfect sense. The site was both strategic and picturesque.
What set it apart from the spring grounds?
The northern door faced south, away from the icy northwest winds that swept down from the wilderness.
Drainage ditches had been dug deep to carry away rainwater.
Youngsters with fresh energy and mothers who had regained their strength.
*When the rains come, the landscape will transform once more.*
The golden-brown grass would glow with emerald life, bursting with vitality beneath the roar of fierce storms.
“…I cannot wait to see it.”
Vesta quickened his steps, eager to witness the change.
*
When he returned to the tribe, the people were already gathered in lively clusters.
“What’s happened?”
“Ah, Baatar-nim!”
The elf warrior who had journeyed across the desert recognized him at once.
“We have news.”
“News?”
“Yes. A new couple who married this year has conceived.”
“Truly wonderful.”
“Elves finding children is no easy thing, but when it happens so quickly, everyone celebrates their good fortune.”
Vesta could not be sure how they had learned of it, yet the joy was clear.
“Besides lambs and goats, many other couples who worked hard this spring have been blessed.”
A bold voice reached him before he could see the face.
*Ushun, without even looking.*
“Really? What does that mean?”
Ushun turned with a grin, gave him a hearty greeting, and immediately continued her grumbling. “Do you even know how difficult it is for elves to have children? One season and the child appears…”
“Not jealous, are you?”
“Why would I be jealous on such a happy day?”
Her tone suggested otherwise, but Ushun was no coward.
“Envy, then.”
Asmur stepped forward from beside him.
“…Envious, yes.”
The sharp barb struck home. Ushun coughed, turned her back, and fled. Asmur watched her go with a knowing smile. “She’s envious, that’s for sure.”
Asmur expressed her own opinion without hesitation. “She already loves children; imagine how she’ll spoil her own.”
“Exactly. Ushun will make a wonderful mother.”
Asmur nodded. “There is no doubt.”
*
“Congratulations.”
Orolbai, who had finished his work and returned, offered the words without delay. He clapped Vesta on the shoulder several times, for the shepherd and his young bride knew each other well.
Recalling Orolbai’s own barren life made the gesture feel heavier.
The half-elf who could never father children now stood before him, beaming.
Orolbai finished his brief congratulations among the men and turned to Vesta. “You worked hard.”
“Not at all. The groom is the one who worked hardest.”
The stories of his deeds had spread. Vesta waved them away with both hands. “How many men in this world have killed a truly terrible beetle with a sword? That is no small feat.”
Orolbai’s eyes sparkled with recognition. “You know about dung beetles too?”
“Yes. I’ve traveled the desert several times.”
It had been in his wandering days before marriage. The man had been free, he said. Perhaps the stories were true.
Vesta groaned. “The desert is no place to take lightly.”
The giant dung beetles that appeared only once every few decades had emerged in unusual numbers that very day. An anomaly.
“Haha. Quite right. The desert is just as eventful as the steppe—doma lizard, antlion, cameltaurus thieves, and grubs.”
The two men spoke at length about the desert.
*It has been quite some time since I chatted like this.*
Yet the ease between them felt natural. Age was no barrier; they had become friends without realizing it.
Vesta chose not to mention today’s news. He avoided the topic, fearing it might wound.
“You need not worry about it.”
Orolbai spoke lightly. “I already have more children than I can care for. My strength cannot keep up.”
He laughed, exaggerating his excess. “I am already well beyond my prime, you see.”
Fathers never notice these things. Vesta remembered the words Orolbai had once given him.
“The one who should worry is not me, but the groom, is it not?”
“Me?”
Vesta’s eyes widened.
“Once the betrothal is complete, you will have children of your own.”
“Too far off to worry about.”
*Next spring is still a long way away.*
That was the season when the promise year ended.
*…Not so distant after all.*
The thought had seemed impossibly remote, yet the rapid arrival of summer had changed everything. The season would pass just as quickly.
“Marry, and do have children.”
Orolbai’s eyes shone with certainty. “Life truly begins the moment you take that step.”
“…”
What could he say? It felt like standing at the edge of a chasm, watching the devil beckon.
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