Author's Note: This story is the third installment of my "Rarity" series. The order of the stories should be on my profile's biography. I think this story doesn't have much conflict in it at all. I wanted to write something happy and adorable. This story will involve centaurs. All graphically described sexual content in my stories involve characters that are at least 18 years old.
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Oxen and draft horses were both too expensive for her family to own, too expensive for most families in the community to own, but they were necessary for the work. So, every family provided a small amount of money to they could collectively pay for and share the creatures.
On this dark, early morning, Hulda was with one quiet draft horse on a plot of land. The animal was dutifully pulling a plow along, preparing the soil for the crops that would be planted soon. Hulda was gripping the handles of the plow, making sure it cultivated the soil properly. Her older brother was walking up and down the soft soil that had been prepared, stopping to plant seeds. The whole family was working, really.
Even though her face was hot and wet with tears from her eyes and a bit of mucus from her nose.
Even though her brother was coldly refusing to speak to her.
Even though she had no more investment in this land.
Even though she was going to leave and never return.
By the time the field had been pregnant with seeds, a male dwarf had arrived with a carriage pulled and guarded by horse people. What were they called? Centaurs, right? They were creepy to look at, and it was weird to see how they were arranged. There weren't any reins on them. The dwarf sitting on the driver's seat wasn't really driving at all. The centaurs pulling the carriage were the ones driving. Two centaurs, wearing fancy looking padded armor and keeping close to the vehicle, seemed to be the guards. Why they needed guards was beyond Hulda's understanding at first. She had never traveled anywhere except for the local marketplace. She didn't know what traveling anywhere else was like.
Then she realized that bandits were a thing, and that was probably the reason for the guards.
The sun was rising. The little wood and straw house she had grown up in, as ordinary and dull as it was, looked so pretty in the orange and blue air. It wasn't the only house there; there were several around. Still, to Hulda, that house she had called home all her life was the loveliest building in the world. The reason why she thought so was probably because she knew she'd never see the house again.
Her father had to stop his work to go to the dwarf. Their conversation seemed far away. Hulda wasn't listening to it. Her toes were flexing in the dirt. Her fingers trembled in the autumn air.
Then she heard her father's yelling. "Get over here, Hulda!!"
She didn't even say goodbye to anyone in her family. Obedient, but shaking, Hulda left the plow to go to where the dwarf was. He seemed quite ugly to her, wide and cruel looking, and his belly stuck out like the swelling stomach of a woman with child.
Hulda looked at the carriage's plain door. She heard what she thought had to be coins bouncing and clanging in a pouch. Then she heard her father tell her to climb into the carriage, and she did so.
Inside, there were several women who looked pretty much like her, like ordinary farming girls. The shocking part was that they were chained to the seats in the carriage. Hulda nearly bolted out of the vehicle. She had to remind herself that there was nothing to do about the situation, and then she exhaled and waited while the dwarf left his seat to restrain her. Her wrists were put in metal cuffs; she felt like a prisoner.
And as she was carried away, she wondered about her future.
A wife, huh?
Somewhere out there, a horse man needed a wife.
Disgusting!!
***
Ehlov didn't believe he was ready for a wife. But, Pa was his master, and Ma was his mistress. Both of them demanded a new woman, and there weren't any single nubile women around. It was a sensible situation. Ehlov was the youngest out of three sons. The eldest sons normally got the first opportunity to purchase a bride, and they would almost always pick a native. The youngest sons were usually left with only a foreigner as an opportunity.
So, not only was Ehlov expected to find a wife, and soon, he had to pick a woman who needed a longer Soothing than a native. All this pressure added to his extra work as a Carriage Man. So much work, so much stress, and then there was all the money he'd been burying. There was always the concern that someone might steal some of it, literal years worth of money!!
Ever since he was fourteen years old, he had spent half of every year away from the farms in Korelanda Village to earn a living as a Carriage Man, pulling the vehicles of dwarves all around. The dwarves preferred paying the centaurs a fee instead of taking care of a horse. Horses had to be fed, groomed, and given sleeping quarters. Not only that, when they became ill, one had to figure out the problem because horses couldn't speak any language other than "horse." Centaurs would take their money and care for themselves, and when they were ill, they could describe their symptoms, making life so much easier for doctors.
This was considered to be good work, especially for the younger sons in families. Dwarves would put horseshoes on their hooves and pay them well for their work. Sometimes, a Carriage Man wouldn't even pull a vehicle. Sometimes, he simply carried a single dwarf on his back for a quick ride somewhere.
It was different in nations other than Breden and Duklok. The people there preferred horses. Horses were charming in their own right, but for a centaur who hadn't seen them before, they were the most confusing creatures in the world. It was difficult to explain the feeling. Perhaps ... if a human were to see a creature with normal human legs and a torso of a fish, or a bear, or an insect, or something completely unknown, the human might understand the feeling a centaur would have when seeing a horse for the first time.
In these other nations where horses were preferred, the dwarves and centaurs would travel only in certain towns and cities. The majorities of these foreign nations didn't have accommodations for centaurs, and centaurs didn't want to sleep near horses. Horses defecated whenever the need came to them. They couldn't control themselves as a centaur could. They also tended to be spooked by the stupidest, most harmless nonsense. So, only certain locations that had buildings made for centaurs were used for their trading and such. Tourism was out of the question.
And there weren't many prostitutes willing to serve them. Both humans and dwarves had these buildings called brothels, a concept unheard of in Breden. In a typical human city or town, the brothels were not built for centaurs, and the snobby women there didn't want to even try to deal with them. There were inns built with centaurs in mind, though, and an occasional female employee might be brave or desperate enough to sell her services there.
Duklok had brothels built for both dwarves and centaurs. A centaur couldn't impregnate a dwarf. As long as a centaur was clean, a dwarven prostitute was often eager to please, and they were usually fairly young, too. As for Breden, the only women selling their services were older wives or widows, and they usually did the work in their homes. Compared to dwarves, Breden women weren't always eager to please. They considered their roles to be similar to a teacher, and they tended to be very demanding, but their customers were often happy to learn.
For all the years Ehlov had worked as a Carriage Man, he could count the times he sought out a woman's touch with one hand. His peers tended to spend more of their money, and not just on women. An excess of beer and food was also popular with the Carriage Men. They liked to party.
Ehlov was different. Of course, he ate and drank, but never to excess. He hoarded his coins as if he was in desperate poverty.
And when he returned home, he put the coins in boxes and buried them. Sometimes, his family members would call him a puppy or a dog because of this habit. Only his father really knew what was in the boxes, though. The rest of the family assumed that he mostly buried souvenirs from his travels. He wouldn't have been the first Carriage Man to hide his cheap little treasures that had glimpses of the outside world. Some of those men even buried their old and used horseshoes just because they thought that would bring them luck.
