It takes an hour for Deborah and her “escorts” to reach her intended destination: the Aherin tribe’s village. Not a pleasant journey if Deborah must make a comment, especially when she is met with dagger-filled gazes from the other riders for the duration of their journey together, and contributes into that is Deborah’s inability to ride without startling her horse, forcing her to walk all the way back to their village. An action like that isn’t any different than spitting on their good will, and certainly doesn’t help her fix her already low impression in the eyes of the riders.
It can’t get any worse than this, can’t it?
Deborah can only pray internally as she walks through the guards standing in front of the village’s entrance.
-Welcome back, chief Nephele!
A passing by tribesman bows his head in respect of the elderly chieftain leading the group, which is replied by a silent nod from Nephele. No spoken words, yet Deborah can see a bright smile on the tribesman’s face as he walks away to do his own things.
So this is their village, a beastmaster’s village.
Before Deborah’s eyes is a mountain range, not too huge, but still big enough to makes her feel insignificant. The village is located at its foot, in a place protected by hills and rocks of the mountain, providing a perfect tactical advantage for the tribesmen to defend their home. It wouldn’t be a situation where their riding skills are put to good use, but certainly would be a deadly shooting range for their archers to show their worth. According to the map, the village’s location is located near the entrance to the roads leading to the Merchant City of Aurum in the North-West. Deborah guesses it would make trading easier for the tribe, especially during Winter where they might need more goods in case of emergency.
Even when near the foot of a mountain range, the grassland is still prevalent here, and thus the tribesmen built their yurts around the place. The village is packed with tribesmen and women, Deborah can roughly count about a hundred of them, more so if she includes the riders accompanying her. The village is brimming with life, the men are busy tending herds of horses, while the women are doing…womanly things, like doing the laundry or preparing meals, leaving their children to play with each other, waiting for time to pass. Deborah has read about things like this in her books, but this is the first time she has a chance to witness the daily life of the people beyond her castle’s walls. Something so ordinary, yet so strange.
For beastmasters, they are surprisingly…normal.
Following the lead of their chieftain, the group arrives at the biggest yurt in the center of the village. It doesn’t take a genius to know this is the chief’s yurt, as it’s not only bigger than others in size but also fancier, with heavy decorations on the felt used to set up the yurt. Of course, the guards at its entrance only make it more obvious.
The chief dismounts from her old black horse, she pets the old horse on the head before letting a guard lead it away, presumably to a stable or something for rest. All of this without a single word uttered from anyone.
Not a very talkative people, I see.
As Deborah still stands in awe of the new experience, the chief Nephele approaches the young girl and…sniffs her clothing.
-You stink.
-…Excuse me?
Deborah is dazzled by the sudden comment, and she can’t help but secretly sniff her clothing to actually confirm the chief’s words.
-When was the last time you took a bath?
-I…don’t remember. I was in a coma for an unknown period of time, and when I woke up, I rushed here as fast as I could.
She conveniently forgets to mention how she found no perfect spot for a bath. Of course, aside from being a dragon, Deborah is also a maiden, and a maiden doesn’t take a bath in a river in the open in broad daylight. To counter the hygiene problem, Deborah casted several refreshment spells to ward off the smell she gathered by the days, but of course, magic isn’t the answer for everything as Deborah just found out.
-It doesn’t matter. Keeping you like this long enough and people will forget we are the actual savages here.
With a finger snap, two young girls appear from inside of the chief’s tent. Reading from the sign of the chief’s hand, the two of them understand her order immediately and proceed to drag Deborah away the group with no difficulty.
-Hey hey wait a minute!
Despite her protest, Deborah willingly follows the maids serving the chief. She understands enough basic courtesy to know it’s not very courteous to show up for business when you stink like a rat. And of course, her ravaged clothing certainly doesn’t help her already low image. The girls lead her to the back of the village, in a seclude location near the mountain range, with a small waterfall flowing down making a pond. There isn’t anyone else at the moment, but the presence of shampoo and other bathing products makes it clear this is the village’s bathing place.
-Please allow us.
Before Deborah has a chance to react, the two nomad girls have already stripped her clothes faster than she can even retaliate. When Deborah starts to cover naked body in embarrassment, the two girls just stand there, with one holding her tattered clothing, the other with Nilrem’s letter, map and the Ring of Thought Transference. In unison, the two of them bow and leave without saying any other words.
-They’re fast…
Deborah mutters as she stands alone in the bathing place. This place keeps surprise her again and again. But just standing here alone won’t be of use to anyone, especially when naked. Thus, Deborah approaches the pond and takes a shower under the waterfall. When washing alone isn’t enough, Deborah decides to try out the shampoo available nearby.
Judging from the smell, it’s herbal.
It is possible to make this from the herbs found in the Elowen forest. Though Deborah cares less about its component and more about its effect. With a little bit of shampoo, Deborah washes her long red hair under the waterfall.
It smells nice…
Shampoo and soap are the last things Deborah expects for a nomadic tribe to possess. This is just the beginning of her meeting with this tribe, and she’s already feel at awe. The talk has yet to begin, and Deborah now fears for it like an unprepared schoolgirl afraids of tomorrow’s test.
Anyhow, I don’t want to run away again.
When she is done, Deborah approaches the entrance of the bathing place. There’s already a neatly folded towel waiting for her in a straw basket, along with a set of clothing. Not her clothes, but the clothes of the Aherin tribe. Her belongings are nearby, so Deborah’s worry is now set on how to wear this kind of exotic clothing.
-Allow me.
Says one of the girl who accompanied her to the bathing place. The other one isn’t present, probably because it only takes one of them to cater to their guest’s need. The girl skillfully helps Deborah wear their tribe’s clothing. The clothes themselves aren’t anything special aside from their exotic design, but they have layers, and Deborah needs the maid’s help to put them on. Deborah feels the girl managed to catch a glimpse at the Dark Seal on her stomach, but the girl stays silent nonetheless. Deborah is their guest the moment she set foot in this village, it’s not a maid’s job to doubt or fear their guest, but to help them with their needs.
-Finally, thank you.
After the maid is finished, Deborah twirls around to get a feel of her new clothing. Her first impression is it’s warm, if not a bit hot, thanks to the layers of the clothes. The other impression is it’s beautiful thanks to skillful embroidery, it’s colorful and also exotic. Deborah prefers simple clothes, but it’s feel nice to be fancy once in a while.
-We’re not done yet, Miss.
It turns out there’s still headwear to take care of, but Deborah stays still for the maid to do her job instead of making a fuss. It’s not like she’s interested in trying new clothes or anything, she just doesn’t want to waste more time than needed, and making a scene would cost her more time than simply obey. The headwear the girl prepared is more of a simple headdress, made from beads and connected to an amulet-like emblem. She puts them on over Deborah’s head with Deborah kneeling down thanks to her height. Now her head feels like a fancy fishing net, but she simply can’t say that out loud.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Still, it’s beautiful.
When the maid is finally done, Deborah follows after her to meet the chief for real this time. On the road, Deborah is met with the gazes of the tribe members. They seem curious of why there’s a foreigner wearing their traditional clothing walking around in their village. The gazes while subtle are still intense, and Deborah can do naught but blushes and lowers her head in embarrassment.
-We are here, if you please excuse me.
The maid quickly leaves when the two of them reach the biggest yurt in the village. Deborah quickly enters before she causes a scene.
-Now that’s better.
Says the chief, who’s sitting on a comfortable cotton mat while smoking something from a wooden pipe. While the yurt itself is big, Deborah feels it’s smaller inside when she actually sees it with her eyes. But even so, Deborah can feel a strange warmth from the interior’s decoration. Tapestries lining up on the wall, a simple iron pot for tea in the middle, and the straw carpet to make daily life more comfortable. Of course, things in this yurt looks flammable, Deborah best be careful when she’s inside. Doesn’t want to cause more troubles, after all.
-Come in, don’t just stand there. Aren’t you here to meet and talk with me?
-Right, my apology.
Seeing as the chief herself is barefoot, Deborah decides to put her straw shoes away before setting her foot onto the straw carpet. Since there’s a sitting mat on the opposite of the chief, Deborah sits onto to it and waits for the chief’s response.
-I believe we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. My name is Nephele, chieftain of the Aherin tribe. You may wonder whether or not I have a last name, so I may as well answer it. I was born a member of the Aherin tribe, and when I die, I’ll die as a member of the Aherin tribe. You could say my last name is Aherin itself. In your custom, my name would be Nephele Aherin. Isn’t that amusing?
The elderly woman laughs, Deborah certainly doesn’t expect such hospitality from people who drew their swords against her. Regardless, Deborah lets out a relaxed sigh, knowing she is safe for the time being.
-Thank you for your hospitality, chief Nephele. My name is Deborah Draconis, I came here from the Eostre continent in order to seek your aid in a private matter. The detail is inside this letter, written by your acquaintance Nilrem Erramun.
Deborah hands Nilrem’s envelope over to the chief, she quickly tears the envelope apart to read the content inside.
-If I may ask…in that moment in the steppe…how did you know my name?
And what I am…
-Simple, because I received a letter with the same content as this one one week prior. I could say this is the exact copy of what I received.
Deborah is dazzled for a moment. It feels like she just got pranked by her guardian once again.
-Still the resourceful woman I knew. She gave you this in case the letter she sent me failed to reach my hands.
-How did you become acquainted with Nilrem? I can’t see her as someone who would go out of our castle walls to embark on an adventure.
-But she did.
Nephele pauses for a moment to smoke before continuing.
-Fifty years ago, she came to the Suntos continent in search of the ruins of an ancient kingdom in the South. By that time, our tribe was in the Southern region as we fled the Winter cold. But we found ourselves contracting a strange disease in the South. Our herbalists did our best, but nonetheless they failed to save half the tribe from death, while the other half awaited their turn to join our ancestors. I luckily wasn’t infected, but seeing my beloved tribe on the brink of destruction was more painful than anything a disease can cause.
Nephele falls silent. This doesn’t seem to be a pleasant topic to talk about, and now Deborah starts to regret asking in the first place.
-Then Nilrem came. We were distrust of her at first, as we always did for magic and its practitioners. Nonetheless, she cured the disease in our remaining survivors, regardless of the previous chief’s wish. The previous chief demanded the witch to be killed for bringing magic to the tribe, blinded to the fact the same witch saved our tribe from a disease we failed to fight. And so, with my blade, I stabbed him in the back, and took leadership of our tribe to flee away from the South. I told Nilrem the Aherin tribe owe her a great debt, and should she ask of us, we will repay that debt in every way we can.
The chief takes another sip at the smoking pipe before she ends her story.
-Whatever Nilrem did at that ruin, it ended the deadly disease as there weren’t any other cases of it happening to other tribes heading southward from then on. Nevertheless, the Aherin tribe chose to remain in the North, and learned to survive through the Winter and many other dangers. We owe your headmaster a great debt, if this is what she asks in return, then we will gladly accept the task.
-Thanks…I guess…
Nilrem is no friend of hers, Deborah is aware of that. Still, there’re a lot of things she has yet to know about her legal guardian. While her own issue is her current priority, Deborah feels like having a chat with her guardian when she’ll eventually return to that castle.
-That being said, while I accepted to help you train for your problem, you certainly doesn’t look like a flame dragon that caused untold death and destruction during the siege of Melas.
Deborah feels like there’s an arrow in her heart when the chief brings up her previously deed in that way. But of course, Deborah knows this is inevitable. If she wants the chief to help her, the chief needs to know about the terrible things she did during her berserk moments.
-My look doesn’t matter…it doesn’t change what I did…
-So it would seem.
Nephele bluntly replies.
-Tell me, Deborah of Melas castle. What did you feel when you unleashed your powers upon your enemy during that siege? Did your blood boil as you crush their skulls? Did your heart race as your fire burn the humans opposing you to ashes?
-Terrible…I feel…terrible. I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ve caused enough death already. I told people I don’t want to fight, but my voice never reached them. I always found myself being forced to partake in violence, and whenever I indulge in them, bad things always happen.
-But I’m sure there’s a part of you that want that very violence and destruction you denied. No matter what you may say, the urge to fight and destroy exists within you. It’s in your blood, in your very being, your very existence.
-No, they don’t!
Deborah yells out loud, but she quickly restrains her voice before people outside of the tent start to get suspicious.
-Your actions told me another story.
The elderly chieftain replies.
-I saw the fight you had with my scouts today. You were right, you ran away to avoid the violence caused by the misunderstanding of my tribesmen. But when they started shooting arrows at you, you retaliated. The same applied to the other tribesmen that came to their aid, the first thing you did wasn’t running away, nor trying to reason with them, you prepared your fists, expecting to battle my men. I find it ironic for someone who presumably hates violence were so quickly resorted to use violence.
-I…I…
Deborah can’t find a proper word to say to the woman. She simply tried to defend herself during that time, Deborah doesn’t think self-defense by itself is a crime. But considering the kind of creature she is, even if she let them, they wouldn’t be able to kill her if she laid down her resistance. Yet, just like the chief said, she gave up trying to reason with them, she ran away, and when she was mad enough, Deborah quickly resorted to violence.
-I know you are a dragon, I can feel that, but to me, you are more similar to a wild horse in the steppe. Docile when left alone, evasive in the sight of strangers, but dangerous when threatened. But…we are Equidae beastmasters, taming horses is our specialty. Our rite of adulthood is for one to tame a wild horse in the steppe to be their companion by their lonesome. In a sense, I’m starting to understand why Nilrem asked of us with this task.
Deborah keeps her silence, unable to come up with something to reply. And thus, Nephele continues the conversation.
-For the time being, you should rest. I’ll think of something to deal with your situation. I’ll let you know by tomorrow morning. My guard will lead you to the guest’s yurt. Rest for the night, tomorrow is going to be a long day for you.
-I understand…thank you for your hospitality.
Deborah nods and stands up. In the end, she fails to say anything relevant. But at least things are starting to look better for her.
They are beautiful.
Before she leaves, Deborah gives a closer look to the tapestries inside the yurt. They are very well made, fine pieces of art, even for someone who knows nothing about paintings like Deborah. On a closer look though, Deborah finds out they are more than pretty pictures, they are practically pictures of things that happened in the chief’s life. Her childhood, her teenage times, her marriage, her spouse’s death by disease, her growing old…and ends with a tapestry of the chieftain riding on the horse with a young man riding another horse nearby.
A young nomadic man, with a very familiar face that Deborah knows.
-Chief Nephele…who is this man?
-That was my grandson Gust.
Gust. A name that brings pain to her now non-existence heart. An insignificant name, a name like many other names, but the worst name to come up in this place and at this time. The name of the fake Origen, the name of the man who rallied the human soldiers to fight against Deborah once again…
…and also the name of the man she killed for their clashing duties.
-Your grandson…Gust?
-He left the tribe two years ago when his companion horse died of illness, said he would become a mercenary or something. And he died because of it, a nameless corpse among the rank and file in the siege of Melas. I received the news of his death last week, by a letter from his mercenary company. Incidentally I received Nilrem’s letter of request right after. Funny. Was he someone you know?
Deborah starts sweating, she dares not to face Nephele eye to eye. If she does, she afraids the chief will realize she’s talking with her grandson’s murderer from the start.
-Anyhow, my grandson’s death doesn’t concern you. Have a good night rest, Deborah Draconis, daughter of dragons.