The Autumn Harvest Season
It was common to call autumn the season of harvest or the season of abundance.
But that was the farmers' thinking. The people of the prairie saw things differently.
The prairie’s bounty arrived in summer.
A season when milk and honey flowed. Even if one couldn’t catch the honey, one could certainly gather the milk. That was the prairie’s summer.
“Everyone can drink fresh milk together now.”
The foals had grown large enough that there was finally no need to hide it.
“The White Food is what the prairie people call it, right?”
“Exactly. You’ve become one of us, Vesta.”
On the prairie, food was divided into two categories. One was the Red Food—meats obtained by slaughtering livestock.
The other was the White Food, that is, dairy products. The symbol of the prairie’s summer, and the only time when one could truly feast on milk, cheese, yogurt, and the rest.
A blue-tinted steppe spread out beneath them, where women knelt to milk sheep and goats.
Just as Altaira had shown before, one could see them squeezing the udders hard or coaxing the babies to latch on first.
Vesta had planned to help the elf women all day.
Unfortunately, things did not go smoothly.
“Oops.”
As Vesta drew near, several of the animals reacted strangely.
“Why are they acting like this?”
Altaira, a seasoned caretaker, looked utterly bewildered.
“My, why is this one like that?”
The notoriously ill-tempered goat had simply collapsed, belly exposed, legs splayed in total helplessness.
“I didn’t do anything to it, though.”
It had never refused him before, nor had it ever shown this kind of rejection. Something was very wrong.
“Lord Vesta. Perhaps today is…?”
“Yes, it seems the day is not.”
He had no choice but to leave. Afterward he wandered in search of work, but nothing suitable presented itself.
‘No choice but to do, I might as well check on Arin.’
*
“So that happened, then.”
“Hmm? What a strange coincidence.”
Arin popped a dried date fruit into her mouth and spoke.
Her lips curled into a smile at the violent sweetness.
“Awoong. Delicious.”
“It is that good?”
“It’s the joy of living, isn’t it? Would you like a taste, Vesta?”
“Whoa, I’m full. My palate probably won’t like it anyway.”
“Really? Because you’re married, your tastes must match Khan’s too.”
“…?”
Vesta’s expression darkened. He was thinking of Ashtien, who had received the dates as a gift and had never actually enjoyed the sweetness, simply not wanting to hurt his feelings.
Of course he had not yet realized the misunderstanding.
‘Arin must be mistaken.’
Deciding to change the subject, Vesta asked, “How are your legs?”
“They’re better now, but they still itch like crazy sometimes.”
Still, watching her wag her tail, it seemed she had recovered far more than before.
“Scratch them for me.”
“No time for that.”
“You’re stingy.”
She stuck out her tongue and teased him. Of course Vesta, trained among the playful prairie spirits, felt no hesitation.
Having lost interest, Arin turned back.
“I wonder what the goat was thinking.”
She was trying to guess why the goat had fainted.
“What do you mean?”
“It smelled like blood.”
“But I just washed.”
Thanks to Ashtien, one could bathe as much as one wanted.
“You still haven’t become a true prairie person.”
“What else are you trying to say?”
“Blood has a deep, penetrating nature. What we wash away is only a trace on the surface.”
Arin spoke lightly, without weighing her words. As if it were simply the way things were.
‘It must be the value of the prairie people.’
“The blood in Lord Vesta’s body is not ordinary blood. It belongs to an orc with a strong fate, a massive wild dog, the King of Worms…”
Arin suddenly remembered and asked, “You said you received the blessing of the Ekarkwide, right?”
“According to Ushun, yes.”
“Perhaps the blessing woke you by drinking blood.”
“Hmm…”
He had thought it unlikely, but since it was only Arin’s opinion he did not deny it.
“Someone’s coming.”
Arin’s ears perked up. When he stayed silent, footsteps sounded outside the door.
—Lord Vesta. Are you inside?
“Bia?”
A centaur here. Bia’s voice.
“Yes. I’m with Arin.”
Creak—
“We’re here.”
“What is it?”
Bia nodded.
“Khan wants to speak with you.”
“Ashtien?”
Vesta almost called her by name instead of the title of Khan, but Bia did not correct him.
“Yes. It seems to be about the harpy that arrived a short while ago. You should hear it from the Khan herself.”
“I understand. I’ll go right now.”
Vesta bade farewell to Arin and followed Bia out.
‘A harpy, you said. She must have come because she brought news of me.’
He had a good idea what it was.
‘News about Master?’
*
“You’re back.”
Ashtien greeted Vesta.
“I heard you were summoned because of a harpy.”
“Yes. Correct.”
“Did the harpy bring news of my companion?”
Ashtien shook her head.
“Vague. Here, take it. This is the letter the harpy brought.”
Vesta received the parchment.
“It’s written in Imperial script.”
“Yes.”
The letter was in Empire characters, so it could not have come from Ashtien’s own people.
“This writing is unfamiliar to the tribes. Here in this place, you are the only Empire person.”
Using Imperial script to send a letter to the Khan’s tribe clearly meant one thing. The sender was not anyone else.
It was Vesta he sought.
“No one has read this letter. I sealed it the moment I learned it was written in Imperial script.”
The Keshik of the Khan were the most capable warriors in the land, so the fact that an elf could read Imperial script was not strange.
If Ashtien had wished it, she could have read it herself. She simply chose not to, out of consideration for Vesta.
Ashtien said no more and picked up her teacup. She meant: read it slowly. She was reading his heart.
Vesta began to read the letter.
“……”
A little color had drained from his face. Ashtien watched him intently.
“Vesta.”
“…Yes.”
“The letter you received… was it genuine?”
Vesta nodded. Ashtien asked without hesitation.
“Could you explain its contents?”
Vesta hesitated, and Ashtien understood. Still, she watched him with the same direct gaze she always used. Vesta, unable to meet it, raised his hand in surrender.
“You remember that I was a gladiator, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“The letter came from one of my fellow gladiators.”
The Khan’s eyes sharpened.
“…In the Imperial arena he knew of your existence?”
“No. The one who sent this letter is someone like me—a runaway. Someone who left the Empire without joining the rebellion.”
He knew Vesta’s name and face. His manner of speech.
He knew the weapon Vesta favored and remembered his habits.
“What did he say?”
“He said he wants to meet you.”
“Really? Then I shall send a harpy and formally invite him…”
Ashtien saw Vesta’s reaction and realized this was not a problem that could be solved so easily.
No, perhaps not from the beginning.
A whiff of blood seemed to rise from her.
—Sending a letter into his courtyard to shake the boy’s heart.
—I would pull the whole thing out and drag him here.
He was just a scrap she could crush in one hand.
But that way she could not break the chains that held his heart.
—Will taking his hero’s trials from him solve anything? That would steal his future. It would steal the chance to become strong himself.
She had the power to cut those chains. But she could not untie the knots. She did not know the start and end of the knot.
Those start and end lay scattered like the pieces of a key across Vesta’s past. No one else could gather them.
Ashtien asked bluntly.
“What would you do?”
“I would meet him.”
“You think I will grant permission?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Vesta’s eyes were clear, shining fully on Ashtien.
—When I wear this expression too…
Ashtien let out a scoff.
“Hmph. Fine. I shall grant it.”
“Ah, thank y—”
A soft whoosh.
Thud.
“…Ashtien?”
Vesta collapsed. Ashtien laid him gently on the red carpet.
She enclosed him between her arms and looked down at him.
Close enough that she could count each of their eyebrows.
Her hair cascaded like a waterfall. Vesta felt as though he had been captured in a beam of light.
“Arrogant.”
“…If I tell you not to move…”
Stop.
—Do not make me weak.
Ashtien brushed Vesta’s hair aside to bare his forehead. His face was fully exposed.
“Truly arrogant.”
Her golden eyes, bright even in shadow.
“This forehead, your eyes, your voice and scars…”
—It stole my breath.
Simply looking into her eyes made his breath catch.
“Bia will accompany you. Go and clear your head. And—”
“Return to me.”
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