The Empire Remembers (2)
Vesta had been expecting something quite different from what he saw before him, yet the vision still stirred a quiet wonder in his chest. The sense of doubt, however, vanished the moment he laid eyes on Bia’s skill.
They moved together across the open prairie when an orc band suddenly appeared on the horizon.
“More than ten of them.”
Vesta prepared himself for the worst, muscles already coiled for battle.
He had judged their habits well enough. Numbers meant they would charge without hesitation.
“Once they make up their minds, they fight with terrifying speed.”
Yet the orcs did nothing of the kind. They neither rushed forward nor drew their bows.
“What’s going on?”
“Ah… I see.”
Vesta guessed the reason in an instant. It had to be Bia.
Arin had mentioned the same thing days ago: neighboring orcs feared gold above all else.
And that gold stood right beside him.
Bia faced the orcs with perfect dignity. Her golden mane and the brighter golden hair that flowed like living flame rippled in the wind.
Anyone would understand what it meant.
The legends they had only heard about, the golden ones they had never seen in the flesh, walked among them.
Orcs would never risk everything against such a sight.
“True, not even Narinhoon Ibahtar’s kind would dare.”
But he had been an exception even among exceptions—born with something beyond ordinary orc blood.
The others were simply wolves, and wolves were not the same as the trained beasts Vesta had slaughtered in the arena.
The difference had been carved into his memory long ago.
Bia did not threaten them. She simply stood tall, as though the need had never arisen.
“Kagar. Kagar.”
“Altan Shahur.”
“Retreat.”
The orcs slowly backed away, eyes wide with fear, then wheeled and vanished across the prairie.
Vesta could not stop himself from smiling.
“Wow, you took them down without a single fight. That’s incredible.”
Bia waved her hands quickly. “It’s nothing special.”
But the way her shoulders lifted, the satisfied glint in her eyes, told another story.
Was she pleased that Vesta had witnessed her strength?
He laughed without meaning to. Her bare, unadorned beauty made his heart stutter.
“Even back then I thought she was so noble and aloof…”
He would not mock her honor, but she really was too transparent. Like Arin and Uushun, whose faces showed everything they felt, Bia’s feelings seemed laid bare for all to see.
“I finally understand why Arin likes teasing her so much.”
Bia truly was the perfect target for harmless jokes. Strong and clever enough that no one ever lost face, yet so honest she would blush and stammer at the slightest kindness.
Vesta, who had secretly admired that proud figure since the day they met, felt a tiny crack in his own illusion.
“Disappointment? No. But the mystery I carried all this time… it’s gone.”
Bia, completely unaware of his thoughts, spoke with cheerful certainty.
“Well, if those monsters had actually attacked, I would have stopped them.”
Her voice rang with pride, her spine straightening like a drawn bow.
Vesta hid his grin behind a cough. Then something new hit him.
“Arin’s outfit is completely different from mine.”
Especially the part that covered her hips.
Arin’s skirt left her legs almost bare, like a daring dance dress.
Bia’s, by contrast, was far more modest, almost modest enough to belong to a noble lady.
“Different personalities, then,” Vesta guessed. “Different values.”
Just as the thought settled in his mind, Bia turned her head.
“Why are you staring so intently at my back…?”
“Ah, that is…”
“…I cannot burn it for you, even like that.”
“Huh?”
Bia’s eyes narrowed in fresh suspicion. She shot Vesta a sharp glance.
“Honestly, I just wanted to sit on your back.”
It was no strange thought at all. Vesta had spent his youth in the empire’s arenas, but he was still a boy. Boys dreamed strange dreams.
Like the human-rights activists of the empire, he had once imagined riding a centaur’s back into battle, fighting side by side.
“It would have looked pretty cool.”
Of course he respected centaur culture. He knew they never let people ride them unless it was truly necessary. The idea had remained just that—an idea.
“Not even an illusion would have fooled you, eh?”
Bia closed her eyes and let out a soft “hic.”
“…Tsk. If you plan to use my back as a stepping stone and climb up… that would be…”
Vesta stopped listening. He simply stared at the distant mountain ridge.
Bia shivered and muttered to herself.
Vesta, lost in quiet reflection, only felt a strange peace settle over him.
*
As the sun began to sink, they realized half a day had not been nearly enough distance to cover.
The prairie night was cold and dangerous. They needed to find shelter.
After a short search, they located a yurt belonging to the prairie elves. Because it was a nomad’s home, it stood alone in the open grass, like a small island of warmth.
The yurt’s owner—a sturdy man with kind eyes—greeted them without hesitation.
“Today, we finally get to serve the Khan’s sword. I’ve lived long enough to taste this honor. And the lady beside you…”
“My consort.”
“Ah, I see!”
Bia had chosen not to reveal her true identity, probably for Vesta’s safety.
The host led them inside. The yurt was surprisingly spacious for a nomad dwelling, so both of them could enter comfortably.
Of course the host was an elf woman. From her appearance alone one might guess middle age, yet her graceful movements and warm voice confirmed it.
To make Bia feel truly welcome, the host turned to her husband.
“Bring out the best we have!”
“But, what exactly…”
“What do you mean ‘what exactly’? First, we need meat! A young one, if possible!”
She did not forget to mention the things Vesta liked to eat.
“And we’ll steam plenty of grains for him. Sugar and salt—don’t hold back! Pile it on!”
“Yes.”
“Good. Hurry and prepare it.”
Slap.
She gave her husband’s backside a playful smack and sent him outside.
“…?”
The woman’s thoughtfulness touched Vesta deeply. Unlike him, Bia accepted the hospitality without hesitation.
It was the prairie custom. The custom of hospitality.
Over centuries it had become sacred law. To refuse would be an insult.
Offering food and shelter was not merely polite—it was the host’s duty to his own dignity and the guest’s right.
If Bia had refused, Vesta would have felt deeply ignored.
While they waited for the meal, they sat on the felt cushions.
Vesta said almost nothing.
The woman who worshipped the Khan and hated orcs suddenly praised Bia.
“Your eyes are truly discerning.”
“In what way?”
“Your consort.”
Both of them turned to Vesta.
“Steadfast, and far more beautiful than most men. Honestly, I can’t find any flaw.”
The woman laughed heartily. Bia let out a soft chuckle.
“That’s not all. He’s also a fine fighter.”
“Heh, what an interesting person.”
“Exactly. I worry for the women who might fall for him, though.”
“…”
Vesta’s eyebrow twitched.
“This girl is at it again.”
“Recently your gaze has become quite… mischievous.”
Bia glanced at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. Arin’s playful tongue had just flashed into his mind.
She had noticed Vesta was not joining the teasing and decided to join in.
“After being teased every single day… now you want to tease him instead?”
“Eeeh, you mustn’t look at your master that way. You rascal.”
The elf woman was speaking to Vesta as if he were already her Khan’s fiancé.
Bia hid her laughter behind her hand, pretending concern.
“Well, she’s quite bold, isn’t she?”
“Hahaha, boys are all like that at this age.”
Vesta’s eyebrows shot up and down in surprise.
“Hah…”
His cheeks warmed at the sudden wave of embarrassment.
“Stay calm. I’m not here to flirt. I’m not here to flirt…”
The people waiting for him back at the arena were rough, battle-hardened men.
He was on his way to meet them, yet here he was blushing like a fool because of light-hearted teasing.
“I’ve known that old eccentric mentor of mine for years.”
The man possessed a talent for making people angry. He was neither handsome nor kind like Bia; he was just a strange, troublesome uncle.
“I’ll have to ask Arin to tease him properly later.”
That was exactly what he had learned from Ahor in the desert.
If you cannot defeat a strong enemy head-on, then hire mercenaries.
Vesta’s mind turned to revenge.