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Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But if that was so, something was strange.
The statue transactions were a stable source of income—would they be ruined with but a single stumble? Did the Church simply not take Eve seriously, or had they created a distribution system that let them procure the statues themselves?
Eve had simply decided to leave the town for good, but she seemed to not have fully abandoned the possibility that the deal could be restarted the following year, which struck Lawrence as awfully gracious indeed.
According to the beggar, Eve had quarreled with the church so fiercely that her shouting voice could be heard outside the building. Yet none of this was of enough importance to justify parting with such anger. Sometimes doing business meant winding up with worthless stock or having business partners turn their backs on you. It was hardly rare.
Naturally such things were upsetting, and the deeper your trust, the stronger the feeling of betrayal. But Eve had not struck Lawrence as so young a merchant that she would think shouting would change the situation.
Did the Church know that Eve was nobility, albeit fallen nobility?
She had said that there was a trading firm in the town that knew about her noble background.
The Church had information-gathering prowess that would put any trading firm to shame—it had to know.
It was incomprehensible that the same bishop who invited moneyed nobility from all over to lavish dinners would discard Eve, who was herself nobility. She could be useful for any number of things.
Or had her usefulness disappeared?
Was that why she offered to bring Lawrence, a merchant she had just happened to meet, in on a deal worth thousands of silver pieces?
Was it out of desperation? Or was she trying to recover? It couldn't have been just a passing tip. The amount was far too high.
Was he overthinking things to wonder if she had a motive beyond simple profit?
But even if she was trying to lure Lawrence into a trap, there were only a few choices.
She could run off with the goods once Lawrence had fronted the money or kill Lawrence midway through the export or possibly make a secret deal with the trade firm to sell Holo off, then pretend nothing had happened.
Yet none of these seemed likely.
The deal Eve had proposed was entirely legal (save for her passing off Holo as a relative of her noble house), so the contents of it would be declared before a public witness and Lawrence would have a copy. If he was to send this to a trading firm in some other town, his opponent would be unable to make any careless moves. As long as a third party had a careful record of all of Lawrence's actions, none of these plans would be easy for her to put into action.
Moreover, Lawrence didn't expect that Eve took him so lightly as to think such simple schemes would work against him.
Perhaps she really wasn't planning anything.
All deals lay somewhere in the gap between trust and suspicion.
He was far from trusting her, but he would only be able to investigate for so long before the deal became impossible.
He would have to decide.
Lawrence mulled it over as he made for the Beast and Fish Tail.
If the Council of Fifty had reached a decision, which seemed to be an open secret now, he expected there would be new information circulating.
When he reached the tavern, it was completely empty; not a single person was to be found inside. Walking down the alley that ran to the rear of the building, he found the barmaid washing a large basin that looked as though it was used to hold wine.
"Goodness, you're here early," she said.
"I must assume it's the cold wash water making you pull such a face."
"Oh, aye, and it's on that account I may be a bit cold myself," she said with a smile, putting down the balled-up length of hempen cloth she was using to wash the basin. "How many merchants do you suppose have come to speak with me?"
All of them desperate for profit, no doubt.
| "Can you not imagine that your beauty was their aim?" asked Lawrence.
The barmaid giggled. "Smiles are gold, words silver. How many boorish louts do you suppose offered copper coins?"
It couldn't have been too many yet more than a few, no doubt.
"I'll admit I've come to ask some rather boorish things myself."
"I've no doubt of that. Owe a merchant a favor, and he'll always come to collect. So, what is it you want to know?" Apparently she had put down the cloth not to talk to Lawrence, but rather to empty the basin of its water. She tilted the basin, which was big enough for Holo to curl up inside when lain flat, and poured its contents onto the ground.
"It's about the Council of Fifty," said Lawrence plainly. If he'd delivered a pick-up line so flatly, he could have gotten his tail kicked and had no call to complain.
But the barmaid only shrugged and smiled. "I hear they've come to a conclusion. They say they're going to allow fur sales but not on credit."
It was exactly what Eve had said.
Just as Lawrence considered how to value this information, the girl swept the grape-tailings into a corner with her foot and continued. "Customers were asking me about it all last night. Honestly, one or two of them could've at least brought me a love letter."
Lawrence considered this new datum while skillfully replying, "A contract is a merchant's only love letter."
"Ah, 'tis true that loving and being loved is not enough to fill one's belly," said the barmaid. "Hmm," she added uncertainly, then smiled grandly, as if to add, "Though for a woman, that's not really true."
Lawrence smiled ruefully, but he knew that if he was to go along with her game, he would be no better than her drunken patrons. "Though for my part all I need is but a glance, and I'm satisfied. I feel as though I should thank you for the meal!"
The barmaid was stunned for a moment, then smacked Lawrence playfully with her hand, which was red from her kitchen chores. "Sir, you are unfair! That was what I was going to say!"
Lawrence laughed, but his mind was keen and focused.
It struck him as strange that since last night so many merchants had come here to confirm their information with this girl. Assuming the information had leaked to them via a colleague, there shouldn't be any need to go talk to some tavern's barmaid to confirm the story.
And from whose mouth was she hearing the latest news anyway?
Perhaps most of her knowledge could be inferred from the information that merchants inadvertently let slip as they asked her questions.
"Were most of the people that came to ask you questions frequent customers?"
"Huh? Frequent?" The girl wrung water out of the washcloth. Lawrence wondered if her hands hurt, given the cold water and chilly weather. She frowned and exhaled, her breath visible. "I guess I'd say it's been about half regulars and half not. Only..."
"...Only?"
The girl looked around furtively, then lowered her voice and continued. "Only a lot of the new customers have been rather careless. You're the only one among them who's asked proper questions."
"Oh, come now," replied Lawrence with his merchant's smile.
"I won't tell them a thing when they're like that. Foreign merchants may have sharp ears, but they've also loose tongues. They'll come in and just blurt out, 'So I hear fur buying is going to be cash only, is that true?' It's absurd!"
"They're failures as merchants," Lawrence said with a chuckle, but internally he was far from calm.
If all merchants were so foolish, business would be easier than it was.
And it certainly wasn't the case that only foreign merchants made such mistakes. Of course, the citizens of a town tended to believe that the people who called it home were the smartest and best, but that was nothing more than a widely held illusion.
So what was their goal?
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Can you not imagine that your beauty was their aim?" asked Lawrence.
The barmaid giggled. "Smiles are gold, words silver. How many boorish louts do you suppose offered copper coins?"
It couldn't have been too many yet more than a few, no doubt.
"I'll admit I've come to ask some rather boorish things myself."
"I've no doubt of that. Owe a merchant a favor, and he'll always come to collect. So, what is it you want to know?" Apparently she had put down the cloth not to talk to Lawrence, but rather to empty the basin of its water. She tilted the basin, which was big enough for Holo to curl up inside when lain flat, and poured its contents onto the ground.
"It's about the Council of Fifty," said Lawrence plainly. If he'd delivered a pick-up line so flatly, he could have gotten his tail kicked and had no call to complain.
But the barmaid only shrugged and smiled. "I hear they've come to a conclusion. They say they're going to allow fur sales but not on credit."
It was exactly what Eve had said.
Just as Lawrence considered how to value this information, the girl swept the grape-tailings into a corner with her foot and continued. "Customers were asking me about it all last night. Honestly, one or two of them could've at least brought me a love letter."
Lawrence considered this new datum while skillfully replying, "A contract is a merchant's only love letter."
"Ah, 'tis true that loving and being loved is not enough to fill one's belly," said the barmaid. "Hmm," she added uncertainly, then smiled grandly, as if to add, "Though for a woman, that's not really true."
Lawrence smiled ruefully, but he knew that if he was to go along with her game, he would be no better than her drunken patrons. "Though for my part all I need is but a glance, and I'm satisfied. I feel as though I should thank you for the meal!"
The barmaid was stunned for a moment, then smacked Lawrence playfully with her hand, which was red from her kitchen chores. "Sir, you are unfair! That was what I was going to say!"
Lawrence laughed, but his mind was keen and focused.
It struck him as strange that since last night so many merchants had come here to confirm their information with this girl. Assuming the information had leaked to them via a colleague, there shouldn't be any need to go talk to some tavern's barmaid to confirm the story.
And from whose mouth was she hearing the latest news anyway?
Perhaps most of her knowledge could be inferred from the information that merchants inadvertently let slip as they asked her questions.
"Were most of the people that came to ask you questions frequent customers?"
"Huh? Frequent?" The girl wrung water out of the washcloth. Lawrence wondered if her hands hurt, given the cold water and chilly weather. She frowned and exhaled, her breath visible. "I guess I'd say it's been about half regulars and half not. Only..."
"...Only?"
The girl looked around furtively, then lowered her voice and continued. "Only a lot of the new customers have been rather careless. You're the only one among them who's asked proper questions."
"Oh, come now," replied Lawrence with his merchant's smile.
"I won't tell them a thing when they're like that. Foreign merchants may have sharp ears, but they've also loose tongues. They'll come in and just blurt out, 'So I hear fur buying is going to be cash only, is that true?' It's absurd!"
"They're failures as merchants," Lawrence said with a chuckle, but internally he was far from calm.
If all merchants were so foolish, business would be easier than it was.
And it certainly wasn't the case that only foreign merchants made such mistakes. Of course, the citizens of a town tended to believe that the people who called it home were the smartest and best, but that was nothing more than a widely held illusion.
So what was their goal?
| But the foreign merchants had nothing to gain from spreading fake information, so whatever their goal, the meeting result that Eve had spoken of was probably true.
If the group of merchants outside the town were all acting out of their own personal self-interests, then they might be trying to create confusion in order to lure other parties away from the truth. In that case, though, Lawrence would expect there to be more than one story about the council's decision circulating.
Likewise, the town insiders and those close to them would know the truth firsthand, so it seemed unlikely that the foreign merchants were trying to create a disturbance within the town.
Eve had said she'd heard the news from sources within the Church.
Whether or not that was true, Lawrence might learn something here that would help him divine something from it.
"By the way," he started.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to ask about the church here—," said Lawrence.
"Uh, please lower your voice," interrupted the girl, her face suddenly stiff, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the barely opened back door of the tavern.
She then peered through the cracked door to make sure no one had seen them.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what was going on, she turned to face him. "If you're asking about the church, you must have heard at least a bit already."
"Well, I suppose..."
"Take my advice, you shouldn't get involved."
The barmaid's expression was so serious there in the cramped back hall of the empty bar that he felt the mask of his coolheaded merchant's face slipping, but Lawrence quickly recovered and responded.
"So there is a power struggle, isn't there?"
If the girl hadn't had acting ability to rival Holo's, Lawrence would have known for sure he'd been dead-on.
"We serve uncommon dishes here, so we're one of the places that caters the church's dinners."
This corroborated the beggar's tale, and this was one of the few shops from which the church could order any meat dish they wished.
The girl scratched her head, sighing uncomfortably. "I don't know all the details, but it seems they're inviting powerful figures from all over. Once we were up for two nights straight cooking for some Church bigwig who'd come from far away."
A distant Church dignitary.
If this was a power struggle, Lawrence knew all too well what it pointed to.
The conversation was taking a strange turn.
"So they're solidifying their power base," said Lawrence.
"Yes. And they've been very careful about their reputation, like it's clay that hasn't dried yet. They give generously to the poor, but whence comes their money, no one knows. So there's no telling what might happen to whoever says anything. Everyone whispers to each other about how if the Church's eye falls upon them, they won't be able to stay in the city."
"If this is all true, why are you telling me?" asked Lawrence, slightly intimidated by the girl's seriousness.
"Well, I wouldn't tell just anyone."
Just as Lawrence wore the mask of a merchant, this girl surely wore the mask of the barmaid.
So if the back of the back was the front—which was this?
"For future reference, might I ask why you're making an exception?"
"Well, if I had to venture to say...," she replied strangely coy, her face drawing near. "I suppose it would be because you have the scent of another woman about you."
Unable to retreat because of the wall behind him, Lawrence started at the girl, his face faltering. "So it's your pride as a barmaid, then?"
The girl giggled. "There is that, but there's something about you that just makes a girl with a bit of confidence want to have a go. Do you get that a lot?"
Unfortunately, Lawrence's experience was limited to being rejected by inn maids.
All he could do was shake his head.
"Well, then there's only one explanation. You've only recently met the girl at your side."
She was not to be underestimated. Was this what they called female intuition?
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But the foreign merchants had nothing to gain from spreading fake information, so whatever their goal, the meeting result that Eve had spoken of was probably true.
If the group of merchants outside the town were all acting out of their own personal self-interests, then they might be trying to create confusion in order to lure other parties away from the truth. In that case, though, Lawrence would expect there to be more than one story about the council's decision circulating.
Likewise, the town insiders and those close to them would know the truth firsthand, so it seemed unlikely that the foreign merchants were trying to create a disturbance within the town.
Eve had said she'd heard the news from sources within the Church.
Whether or not that was true, Lawrence might learn something here that would help him divine something from it.
"By the way," he started.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to ask about the church here—," said Lawrence.
"Uh, please lower your voice," interrupted the girl, her face suddenly stiff, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the barely opened back door of the tavern.
She then peered through the cracked door to make sure no one had seen them.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what was going on, she turned to face him. "If you're asking about the church, you must have heard at least a bit already."
"Well, I suppose..."
"Take my advice, you shouldn't get involved."
The barmaid's expression was so serious there in the cramped back hall of the empty bar that he felt the mask of his coolheaded merchant's face slipping, but Lawrence quickly recovered and responded.
"So there is a power struggle, isn't there?"
If the girl hadn't had acting ability to rival Holo's, Lawrence would have known for sure he'd been dead-on.
"We serve uncommon dishes here, so we're one of the places that caters the church's dinners."
This corroborated the beggar's tale, and this was one of the few shops from which the church could order any meat dish they wished.
The girl scratched her head, sighing uncomfortably. "I don't know all the details, but it seems they're inviting powerful figures from all over. Once we were up for two nights straight cooking for some Church bigwig who'd come from far away."
A distant Church dignitary.
If this was a power struggle, Lawrence knew all too well what it pointed to.
The conversation was taking a strange turn.
"So they're solidifying their power base," said Lawrence.
"Yes. And they've been very careful about their reputation, like it's clay that hasn't dried yet. They give generously to the poor, but whence comes their money, no one knows. So there's no telling what might happen to whoever says anything. Everyone whispers to each other about how if the Church's eye falls upon them, they won't be able to stay in the city."
"If this is all true, why are you telling me?" asked Lawrence, slightly intimidated by the girl's seriousness.
"Well, I wouldn't tell just anyone."
Just as Lawrence wore the mask of a merchant, this girl surely wore the mask of the barmaid.
So if the back of the back was the front—which was this?
"For future reference, might I ask why you're making an exception?"
"Well, if I had to venture to say...," she replied strangely coy, her face drawing near. "I suppose it would be because you have the scent of another woman about you."
Unable to retreat because of the wall behind him, Lawrence started at the girl, his face faltering. "So it's your pride as a barmaid, then?"
The girl giggled. "There is that, but there's something about you that just makes a girl with a bit of confidence want to have a go. Do you get that a lot?"
Unfortunately, Lawrence's experience was limited to being rejected by inn maids.
All he could do was shake his head.
"Well, then there's only one explanation. You've only recently met the girl at your side."
She was not to be underestimated. Was this what they called female intuition?
| There weren't many men who would appreciate being compared to a sheep, but it was sadly true that he did in fact have a wolf by his side.
Was this girl really human?
"That's why I'd very much like you to bring your companion by the tavern."
Without interest in money or status, perhaps it was this sort of spice that was perfectly suited to adding a bit of flavor to life.
Surprisingly, that was probably what she had taken in exchange for telling him the truth.
"You've already given me that invitation," he said.
The barmaid gave a smile of frustration. "Oooh, that composure is so frustrating."
"I'm a sheep, after all. We're unsympathetic creatures," said Lawrence, putting his hand to the back door. He then turned back to the girl. "Of course, I'll tell no one of this conversation."
"Not even your charming companion?"
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.
He wondered if this kind of girl was more his type than some mild maiden.
"So, you've told me everything, you say?"
"Without leaving out a bit."
Lawrence had returned to find Holo just as he'd left her—reading books, her tail swaying lazily. It flicked to a sudden stop.
"It seems I need to teach that girl a few things about territory." Holo looked at Lawrence, her expression mildly pleased. "But it seems you're coming to understand the truth of certain things."
"For a draft horse to be free despite its reins, it must anticipate the will of its driver."
Holo smiled, satisfied. "So," she said, sitting up. "What think you of all this?"
It seemed safe to believe that Eve had indeed sold statues to the Church, that they had a disagreement, and parted ways.
Also, Eve's description of the outcome of the council meeting seemed to be accurate.
What worried Lawrence was that in trying to gain control of the town, the Church was trying to establish a cathedral. Cathedrals acted as centers of power for the Church organization and were established based on the recommendations of influential landholders or clergymen, but generally the extant clergymen in such areas resisted the establishment of cathedrals because they represented a new power structure in the region.
Of course, Lawrence had heard that this was all dependent on money and connections.
If a cathedral was established here, the local church's current bishop would go from a man who was appointed bishop to one who appoints them himself. He would have the right to collect a certain amount from the tithes given to churches all over the region and the right to sanction secular rulers in the region.
Sole religious jurisdiction would be his, and while it was an extreme example, he could accuse all who disagreed with him of heresy, having his rivals burned at the stake. That said, most bishops' interests lay in being able to levy fines, and no authority would exceed Church jurisdiction.
It was anticipating such a situation that had made the barmaid so fearful of speaking out against the Church.
Lawrence could certainly understand why, having parted with the Church on bad terms, Eve would want to leave town and why she wouldn't be able to casually talk about restarting their arrangement next year.
What he couldn't understand was why she would fight with the Church in the first place. For Lawrence's part, he would have eaten mud to avoid crossing them. It would've been worth it.
It might not be a bad idea to make a gamble if it meant being able to understand the situation.
Given the Church's power in the Council of Fifty, no doubt the council's decision was made by the bishop, and since that decision would have been made in the best interests of the town's economy, Eve's plan stood in opposition to the Church.
Lawrence came to wonder if it was possible that his life might actually be at risk.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There weren't many men who would appreciate being compared to a sheep, but it was sadly true that he did in fact have a wolf by his side.
Was this girl really human?
"That's why I'd very much like you to bring your companion by the tavern."
Without interest in money or status, perhaps it was this sort of spice that was perfectly suited to adding a bit of flavor to life.
Surprisingly, that was probably what she had taken in exchange for telling him the truth.
"You've already given me that invitation," he said.
The barmaid gave a smile of frustration. "Oooh, that composure is so frustrating."
"I'm a sheep, after all. We're unsympathetic creatures," said Lawrence, putting his hand to the back door. He then turned back to the girl. "Of course, I'll tell no one of this conversation."
"Not even your charming companion?"
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.
He wondered if this kind of girl was more his type than some mild maiden.
"So, you've told me everything, you say?"
"Without leaving out a bit."
Lawrence had returned to find Holo just as he'd left her—reading books, her tail swaying lazily. It flicked to a sudden stop.
"It seems I need to teach that girl a few things about territory." Holo looked at Lawrence, her expression mildly pleased. "But it seems you're coming to understand the truth of certain things."
"For a draft horse to be free despite its reins, it must anticipate the will of its driver."
Holo smiled, satisfied. "So," she said, sitting up. "What think you of all this?"
It seemed safe to believe that Eve had indeed sold statues to the Church, that they had a disagreement, and parted ways.
Also, Eve's description of the outcome of the council meeting seemed to be accurate.
What worried Lawrence was that in trying to gain control of the town, the Church was trying to establish a cathedral. Cathedrals acted as centers of power for the Church organization and were established based on the recommendations of influential landholders or clergymen, but generally the extant clergymen in such areas resisted the establishment of cathedrals because they represented a new power structure in the region.
Of course, Lawrence had heard that this was all dependent on money and connections.
If a cathedral was established here, the local church's current bishop would go from a man who was appointed bishop to one who appoints them himself. He would have the right to collect a certain amount from the tithes given to churches all over the region and the right to sanction secular rulers in the region.
Sole religious jurisdiction would be his, and while it was an extreme example, he could accuse all who disagreed with him of heresy, having his rivals burned at the stake. That said, most bishops' interests lay in being able to levy fines, and no authority would exceed Church jurisdiction.
It was anticipating such a situation that had made the barmaid so fearful of speaking out against the Church.
Lawrence could certainly understand why, having parted with the Church on bad terms, Eve would want to leave town and why she wouldn't be able to casually talk about restarting their arrangement next year.
What he couldn't understand was why she would fight with the Church in the first place. For Lawrence's part, he would have eaten mud to avoid crossing them. It would've been worth it.
It might not be a bad idea to make a gamble if it meant being able to understand the situation.
Given the Church's power in the Council of Fifty, no doubt the council's decision was made by the bishop, and since that decision would have been made in the best interests of the town's economy, Eve's plan stood in opposition to the Church.
Lawrence came to wonder if it was possible that his life might actually be at risk.
| And the scale of the deal that Eve was organizing, while a vast sum to a lone merchant, was not particularly significant in the context of the entire town's fur trade. Lawrence doubted he would attract the wrong kind of attention over such a relatively small venture, and it surely wouldn't become a matter of life or death. Of course, to some individuals, thousands of silver pieces could certainly be worth killing over.
Lawrence explained this all to Holo.
The wisewolf listened seriously for a while, but her posture grew lazier and lazier, and eventually she collapsed back onto the bed.
Lawrence, however, was not angry.
He could find no reason to object to her behavior.
"What do you think?" he finally asked. Holo yawned at this, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her tail.
"I find no fault with your explanation itself. It all more or less makes sense."
Lawrence was about to ask whether that meant he should go ahead with the deal or not but stopped himself short.
He was the merchant; he would be the one to decide.
Holo chuckled. "I'm a wisewolf, not a god. If you start to think me an oracle, I'll vanish."
"Before a big deal, I always start to feel like I want to ask someone's opinion."
"Hah, even though you've already come to a decision? Would you change your mind if I tearfully begged you to?" Holo grinned.
Lawrence knew how he needed to answer. "Even if I did brush it off, you'll still be there at the inn. I'll complete the deal, then return. That is all there is to it."
Holo chuckled throatily, scratching at her neck as though Lawrence's words were difficult to listen to. "Aye, and once you can say those words without blushing, then you'll be a proper man."
Lawrence had grown used to Holo's japes.
He shrugged them off. They were no more than a greeting by now.
"I must say, though, that you were certainly energetic during your explanation there. Of course"—continued Holo, cutting Lawrence off—"I'm not saying that is a bad thing. Males are at their best when chasing their prey."
Now it was Lawrence's turn to scratch his nose in awkward embarrassment, but if he didn't find some retort for Holo, she would surely become angry.
He gave a deliberate sigh, then reminded himself that he was going along with her joke. "But you just want me to pay attention to you once in a while, too, yes?"
"Got it in one," said Holo, smiling happily. "However, what will become of me should the deal fall through?"
"Well, you're collateral. So if we can't return the money, you'll be sold off somewhere."
"Oh ho." Holo lay facedown on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms, her tail and legs pointed up and waving lazily in the air. "So that was what gave you such nightmares?"
"...That, too."
If their deal failed and they were unable to pay back what they owed, Holo would become the property of the trade firm.
However, she would hardly sit there meekly and allow herself to be sold.
That gave Lawrence some measure of relief, but he was not so optimistic as to think that once she bit through the ropes that bound her and escaped, she would come running back to him.
"Should it come to that, I'll have to pick someone a bit cleverer as my next partner," said Holo, her red-amber eyes narrowed maliciously.
"Indeed. It'd be best to cover such a fool in the dirt kicked up as you left him," Lawrence quickly replied to Holo's teasing.
The wisewolf did not seem pleased. "Big words from the brat who practically cried when I nearly left before."
Lawrence made a face as though he had swallowed a walnut, shell and all.
Holo grinned, satisfied, the pat-patting of her tail audible.
It was after she ceased wagging it that her expression shifted and she spoke again. "But I shall cooperate because I trust you."
Her smile was genuine.
Lawrence scratched his chin, then stroked his beard. "Naturally."
It was twilight.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | And the scale of the deal that Eve was organizing, while a vast sum to a lone merchant, was not particularly significant in the context of the entire town's fur trade. Lawrence doubted he would attract the wrong kind of attention over such a relatively small venture, and it surely wouldn't become a matter of life or death. Of course, to some individuals, thousands of silver pieces could certainly be worth killing over.
Lawrence explained this all to Holo.
The wisewolf listened seriously for a while, but her posture grew lazier and lazier, and eventually she collapsed back onto the bed.
Lawrence, however, was not angry.
He could find no reason to object to her behavior.
"What do you think?" he finally asked. Holo yawned at this, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her tail.
"I find no fault with your explanation itself. It all more or less makes sense."
Lawrence was about to ask whether that meant he should go ahead with the deal or not but stopped himself short.
He was the merchant; he would be the one to decide.
Holo chuckled. "I'm a wisewolf, not a god. If you start to think me an oracle, I'll vanish."
"Before a big deal, I always start to feel like I want to ask someone's opinion."
"Hah, even though you've already come to a decision? Would you change your mind if I tearfully begged you to?" Holo grinned.
Lawrence knew how he needed to answer. "Even if I did brush it off, you'll still be there at the inn. I'll complete the deal, then return. That is all there is to it."
Holo chuckled throatily, scratching at her neck as though Lawrence's words were difficult to listen to. "Aye, and once you can say those words without blushing, then you'll be a proper man."
Lawrence had grown used to Holo's japes.
He shrugged them off. They were no more than a greeting by now.
"I must say, though, that you were certainly energetic during your explanation there. Of course"—continued Holo, cutting Lawrence off—"I'm not saying that is a bad thing. Males are at their best when chasing their prey."
Now it was Lawrence's turn to scratch his nose in awkward embarrassment, but if he didn't find some retort for Holo, she would surely become angry.
He gave a deliberate sigh, then reminded himself that he was going along with her joke. "But you just want me to pay attention to you once in a while, too, yes?"
"Got it in one," said Holo, smiling happily. "However, what will become of me should the deal fall through?"
"Well, you're collateral. So if we can't return the money, you'll be sold off somewhere."
"Oh ho." Holo lay facedown on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms, her tail and legs pointed up and waving lazily in the air. "So that was what gave you such nightmares?"
"...That, too."
If their deal failed and they were unable to pay back what they owed, Holo would become the property of the trade firm.
However, she would hardly sit there meekly and allow herself to be sold.
That gave Lawrence some measure of relief, but he was not so optimistic as to think that once she bit through the ropes that bound her and escaped, she would come running back to him.
"Should it come to that, I'll have to pick someone a bit cleverer as my next partner," said Holo, her red-amber eyes narrowed maliciously.
"Indeed. It'd be best to cover such a fool in the dirt kicked up as you left him," Lawrence quickly replied to Holo's teasing.
The wisewolf did not seem pleased. "Big words from the brat who practically cried when I nearly left before."
Lawrence made a face as though he had swallowed a walnut, shell and all.
Holo grinned, satisfied, the pat-patting of her tail audible.
It was after she ceased wagging it that her expression shifted and she spoke again. "But I shall cooperate because I trust you."
Her smile was genuine.
Lawrence scratched his chin, then stroked his beard. "Naturally."
It was twilight.
| Lawrence gazed out on the town for a moment; then once the sun was fully set and the town streets emptied, he closed the wooden window of their inn room. Holo continued to read her books by the light of a tallow lamp.
The books seemed to have been organized chronologically, and Holo read the most recent chronicles first.
Considering what they had learned in the village of Pasloe, Lawrence felt that she would find what she was looking for faster if she started from the oldest records, but he suspected that she avoided doing so in order to preserve some measure of composure in her heart.
In any case, only two volumes remained, so the probability that she would soon find the accounts she sought was very high. Holo seemed to be very concerned about what would happen after that, and even after darkness fell, she said she wanted to read. Thus Lawrence gave her permission to read by lamplight, provided she was careful to keep soot—and especially flame—away from the pages.
Holo did not wear her normal indoor robes when reading. She was fully dressed to leave at a moment's notice.
This was not because of the cold, but rather because they would soon be going to negotiate with Eve.
"Well then, shall we go?" Lawrence asked.
The time of the negotiation had not been set precisely, but Lawrence could be reasonably certain, since "at night" was a generally agreed-upon range among merchants. Once he headed downstairs with Holo and waited, it was hard not to feel like a small-time merchant who was overexcited by the notion of profit.
But Eve was late—very late—which was rude.
Perhaps this was her idea of a test.
She hadn't said to meet at sunset because merchants preferred to write their figures during the day, when no candles were necessary, and because it would take them a bit of time to return to the inn.
So presumably she had wanted to wait until after that wave of merchants had returned to the inn and settled down.
If he listened carefully, Lawrence could tell which occupants had returned to which rooms.
Weighing that against the number of rooms in the inn, he expected Eve to arrive soon.
"You merchants are a troublesome lot indeed," said Holo, closing the book with a thud and sitting up on the bed, stretching.
Even a normal girl would have been able to tell that Lawrence was fidgeting over when would be the best time.
"If I must put on an act even in my own inn room, when am I to relax?" asked Lawrence, half joking.
Holo got off the bed, seeming to think something over as she adjusted her ears and tail beneath her cloak. "For some time after we met...no, even recently, you've seemed to always put on a bit of an act around me."
"It's the first time I've ever traveled with a girl. Took time to get used to."
It was also the first time he had let himself go this much around anyone else.
He'd never felt so comfortable around anyone before.
"And yet when we'd just met, your nostrils would puff just from walking about with me," said Holo
"Aye, and would your tail puff up if you saw me with another woman?" Lawrence shot back.
Holo looked up and regarded him as if to say, "You've got a lot of nerve." She then said, "But just like that, a male will gradually reveal his true colors, and eventually turn into someone you never would have expected."
"Isn't that true for more or less anyone as you become close to them?"
"Fool. Don't you humans have a saying, 'Feed not the fish you catch?'"
"That doesn't apply here. I didn't catch the fish, it snuck into my wagon bed on its own, didn't it? Forget about giving it food; I should be charging it for transport."
But no sooner had he said it, than Lawrence flinched away.
Holo's keen gaze was illuminated by the faintly flickering light of the lamp. She was not joking.
Had he treated her poorly? Or had his agitated state been even more irritating than he'd guessed? Perhaps she hadn't liked his comeback.
"Hmph...What I meant was, don't forget your original intention."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence gazed out on the town for a moment; then once the sun was fully set and the town streets emptied, he closed the wooden window of their inn room. Holo continued to read her books by the light of a tallow lamp.
The books seemed to have been organized chronologically, and Holo read the most recent chronicles first.
Considering what they had learned in the village of Pasloe, Lawrence felt that she would find what she was looking for faster if she started from the oldest records, but he suspected that she avoided doing so in order to preserve some measure of composure in her heart.
In any case, only two volumes remained, so the probability that she would soon find the accounts she sought was very high. Holo seemed to be very concerned about what would happen after that, and even after darkness fell, she said she wanted to read. Thus Lawrence gave her permission to read by lamplight, provided she was careful to keep soot—and especially flame—away from the pages.
Holo did not wear her normal indoor robes when reading. She was fully dressed to leave at a moment's notice.
This was not because of the cold, but rather because they would soon be going to negotiate with Eve.
"Well then, shall we go?" Lawrence asked.
The time of the negotiation had not been set precisely, but Lawrence could be reasonably certain, since "at night" was a generally agreed-upon range among merchants. Once he headed downstairs with Holo and waited, it was hard not to feel like a small-time merchant who was overexcited by the notion of profit.
But Eve was late—very late—which was rude.
Perhaps this was her idea of a test.
She hadn't said to meet at sunset because merchants preferred to write their figures during the day, when no candles were necessary, and because it would take them a bit of time to return to the inn.
So presumably she had wanted to wait until after that wave of merchants had returned to the inn and settled down.
If he listened carefully, Lawrence could tell which occupants had returned to which rooms.
Weighing that against the number of rooms in the inn, he expected Eve to arrive soon.
"You merchants are a troublesome lot indeed," said Holo, closing the book with a thud and sitting up on the bed, stretching.
Even a normal girl would have been able to tell that Lawrence was fidgeting over when would be the best time.
"If I must put on an act even in my own inn room, when am I to relax?" asked Lawrence, half joking.
Holo got off the bed, seeming to think something over as she adjusted her ears and tail beneath her cloak. "For some time after we met...no, even recently, you've seemed to always put on a bit of an act around me."
"It's the first time I've ever traveled with a girl. Took time to get used to."
It was also the first time he had let himself go this much around anyone else.
He'd never felt so comfortable around anyone before.
"And yet when we'd just met, your nostrils would puff just from walking about with me," said Holo
"Aye, and would your tail puff up if you saw me with another woman?" Lawrence shot back.
Holo looked up and regarded him as if to say, "You've got a lot of nerve." She then said, "But just like that, a male will gradually reveal his true colors, and eventually turn into someone you never would have expected."
"Isn't that true for more or less anyone as you become close to them?"
"Fool. Don't you humans have a saying, 'Feed not the fish you catch?'"
"That doesn't apply here. I didn't catch the fish, it snuck into my wagon bed on its own, didn't it? Forget about giving it food; I should be charging it for transport."
But no sooner had he said it, than Lawrence flinched away.
Holo's keen gaze was illuminated by the faintly flickering light of the lamp. She was not joking.
Had he treated her poorly? Or had his agitated state been even more irritating than he'd guessed? Perhaps she hadn't liked his comeback.
"Hmph...What I meant was, don't forget your original intention."
| Holo could be strangely childish at times, so perhaps she was annoyed at the fact that not only had Lawrence failed to be flustered but had actually counterattacked.
Perhaps realizing her own fault, she backed off.
Lawrence gave her a thin, tired smile and sighed.
"There's something irritating about that," said Holo
"It's your imagination...No, perhaps you're right." Lawrence cleared his throat, then looked back at Holo. "Can you see into my mind?" He asked the question he had put to her seriously when they first met.
Holo grinned, then came in close. "Fool."
"Ouch!"
She had kicked his shin.
Holo's smile remained undisturbed as she smoothly walked past Lawrence and put her hand to the door.
"Are you coming?"
Lawrence swallowed the remark that came to mind—that Holo would never have treated him like this when they had first met—and followed her out the door.
She had told him not to forget his original intention, but that was truly impossible.
The words carried heavy significance. Time could never be turned back, and everybody knew there was no such thing as a person who never changed.
Lawrence knew that, so there was no doubt that Holo knew it as well.
"Of course, it's also true that I can easily take your hand only because we've been traveling for so long together. But"—Holo's face was suddenly sad—"do not poets speak of wishing to stay always as they were upon first meeting a lover?"
It was for only the barest moment that Lawrence thought she was being her usual teasing self.
He found himself surprised at Holo's words, at how obviously she wished to turn back time as she became more conscious of the journey's approaching end.
Holo seemed to be always looking far to the future, but that was not actually true.
And yet, Lawrence was touched that it wasn't to the happy times centuries earlier when she first arrived at her village that she wanted to return, nor was it to the time before then, before she began her journey at all.
She had taken hold of him with her left hand. Though it embarrassed him, he curled his fingers around hers as he spoke. "You might be well returning to that time, but for my part, I'd collapse from overwork."
Holo drew closer to him as they descended the stairs. "Worry not, for I would be there at your deathbed," she said with a malicious smile, which Lawrence could only answer with a tired smile of his own.
It was on the way to the first floor that Lawrence realized her words were not entirely a joke.
If Holo was to say that the search for her homeland could be postponed, Lawrence would certainly die before she did. If Holo's journey didn't end, their journey as a pair surely would.
Lawrence suddenly felt like he understood her reasons for not answering when, back in Tereo, he'd asked what her plans were after they reached her homeland.
Such thoughts occupied his mind when they reached the first floor, and Holo let go of his hand. Lawrence was not bold enough to feel comfortable entering a room while holding a girl's hand, even if that girl was Holo. At the same time, though, he did not want to be the one that let go. Her accommodation for his feelings warmed his heart.
It was as though she was answering the question of what would happen when they reached her homeland.
The feeling helped him muster more than his usual amount of gravitas when he greeted Eve and Arold, who were already there. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Well then, shall we begin?" asked Eve in her hoarse voice.
"So, what did you learn from your poking about?" Eve asked.
There was no need to introduce Holo.
What was visible of her face beneath the cloak and her posture and movements on the chair spoke volumes.
Eve's somewhat utilitarian manner was not unreasonable. Selling Holo was not, after all, their ultimate objective, but her affectation was a bit miserly nonetheless.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo could be strangely childish at times, so perhaps she was annoyed at the fact that not only had Lawrence failed to be flustered but had actually counterattacked.
Perhaps realizing her own fault, she backed off.
Lawrence gave her a thin, tired smile and sighed.
"There's something irritating about that," said Holo
"It's your imagination...No, perhaps you're right." Lawrence cleared his throat, then looked back at Holo. "Can you see into my mind?" He asked the question he had put to her seriously when they first met.
Holo grinned, then came in close. "Fool."
"Ouch!"
She had kicked his shin.
Holo's smile remained undisturbed as she smoothly walked past Lawrence and put her hand to the door.
"Are you coming?"
Lawrence swallowed the remark that came to mind—that Holo would never have treated him like this when they had first met—and followed her out the door.
She had told him not to forget his original intention, but that was truly impossible.
The words carried heavy significance. Time could never be turned back, and everybody knew there was no such thing as a person who never changed.
Lawrence knew that, so there was no doubt that Holo knew it as well.
"Of course, it's also true that I can easily take your hand only because we've been traveling for so long together. But"—Holo's face was suddenly sad—"do not poets speak of wishing to stay always as they were upon first meeting a lover?"
It was for only the barest moment that Lawrence thought she was being her usual teasing self.
He found himself surprised at Holo's words, at how obviously she wished to turn back time as she became more conscious of the journey's approaching end.
Holo seemed to be always looking far to the future, but that was not actually true.
And yet, Lawrence was touched that it wasn't to the happy times centuries earlier when she first arrived at her village that she wanted to return, nor was it to the time before then, before she began her journey at all.
She had taken hold of him with her left hand. Though it embarrassed him, he curled his fingers around hers as he spoke. "You might be well returning to that time, but for my part, I'd collapse from overwork."
Holo drew closer to him as they descended the stairs. "Worry not, for I would be there at your deathbed," she said with a malicious smile, which Lawrence could only answer with a tired smile of his own.
It was on the way to the first floor that Lawrence realized her words were not entirely a joke.
If Holo was to say that the search for her homeland could be postponed, Lawrence would certainly die before she did. If Holo's journey didn't end, their journey as a pair surely would.
Lawrence suddenly felt like he understood her reasons for not answering when, back in Tereo, he'd asked what her plans were after they reached her homeland.
Such thoughts occupied his mind when they reached the first floor, and Holo let go of his hand. Lawrence was not bold enough to feel comfortable entering a room while holding a girl's hand, even if that girl was Holo. At the same time, though, he did not want to be the one that let go. Her accommodation for his feelings warmed his heart.
It was as though she was answering the question of what would happen when they reached her homeland.
The feeling helped him muster more than his usual amount of gravitas when he greeted Eve and Arold, who were already there. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Well then, shall we begin?" asked Eve in her hoarse voice.
"So, what did you learn from your poking about?" Eve asked.
There was no need to introduce Holo.
What was visible of her face beneath the cloak and her posture and movements on the chair spoke volumes.
Eve's somewhat utilitarian manner was not unreasonable. Selling Holo was not, after all, their ultimate objective, but her affectation was a bit miserly nonetheless.
| But on that count, Eve was skilled enough at hiding her face that Lawrence's eyes could not discern much, and he did not expect to learn anything. It was like warming up before hard exercise.
"Based on my experience and intuition as a merchant, I believe that what you've told me is all true, Eve."
"Oh?" came her disinterested, hoarse voice. She seemed to be well accustomed to negotiation.
"But there is one thing I am worried about."
"Which would be?"
"The reason for your angry split with the Church."
There was nothing more pointless than asking that of her, but Lawrence had decided he would try to compare Eve's answer to the information he had already gathered. If it wasn't consistent, he'd know she was lying.
Holo, sitting next to him, could probably also tell whether she was being honest, but relying on Holo to do this was no different than treating her as an oracle. No, if Eve's answer didn't agree with what he was thinking, cutting her off would be the best course.
After all, they would be selling Holo off based on Lawrence's judgment, so the responsibility to make that judgment fell wholly to him, he felt.
"The reason for my split? I suppose you would wonder about that," said Eve, clearing her throat.
He knew her mind would be racing.
Whatever the undesirable outcome of Lawrence withdrawing from the deal might be, it would most certainly mean the failure of the plan.
She was surely trying to guess at what he had seen and heard around town today.
If she was going to lie, her chances of matching up with whatever information Lawrence had gathered today were almost nil.
"The bishop of the church here is a relic of the good old days, a past he can't forget," began Eve. "He's ambitious. In his younger days, he came here as a missionary, enduring hellish hardship, and what got him through it was his goal of becoming powerful and influential. He wants to establish a cathedral here. In other words, he wants to be an archbishop."
"An archbishop—" The word was practically synonymous with power.
Eve nodded and continued. "As I said before, I may have fallen into disgrace, but I'm nobility. When I began searching this area for good business opportunities, I heard tell of a bishop turning an untoward profit. It was the bishop here. At the time, he was using a trade company as a front and using tithes to get in on the fur trade, but in the end, he just shut himself up in his church and counted figures. He was getting deeper and deeper in the red. So I proposed a way to kill two birds with one stone."
"And that would be the statue trade."
"Exactly. And I didn't just sell him statues. I'm nobility of the kingdom of Winfiel, after all. I can still speak to those in power. I put him in contact with the archbishop there, whose power base is unshakable."
Lawrence found himself nodding internally.
If that was true, then the statues were probably made by the same traveling stonemasons that the archbishop brought together to maintain his cathedral. Once the repairs to the intricate masonry of a cathedral were complete, they would normally either move on to another town or do piecemeal work.
But even so, the amount of certain types of work is limited, which can be a source of friction between groups of masons in an area. And ironically, it was the itinerant stonemasons, who spent time polishing their skills, who were by far the most capable, and they were the only ones who could handle the maintenance on the intricate stonework of the cathedrals.
So in towns that had a cathedral, whenever it required repair, the local stoneworkers worried about having their business stolen and being made superfluous.
Which was how Eve's business, based as it was on stonework, helped ease that concern.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But on that count, Eve was skilled enough at hiding her face that Lawrence's eyes could not discern much, and he did not expect to learn anything. It was like warming up before hard exercise.
"Based on my experience and intuition as a merchant, I believe that what you've told me is all true, Eve."
"Oh?" came her disinterested, hoarse voice. She seemed to be well accustomed to negotiation.
"But there is one thing I am worried about."
"Which would be?"
"The reason for your angry split with the Church."
There was nothing more pointless than asking that of her, but Lawrence had decided he would try to compare Eve's answer to the information he had already gathered. If it wasn't consistent, he'd know she was lying.
Holo, sitting next to him, could probably also tell whether she was being honest, but relying on Holo to do this was no different than treating her as an oracle. No, if Eve's answer didn't agree with what he was thinking, cutting her off would be the best course.
After all, they would be selling Holo off based on Lawrence's judgment, so the responsibility to make that judgment fell wholly to him, he felt.
"The reason for my split? I suppose you would wonder about that," said Eve, clearing her throat.
He knew her mind would be racing.
Whatever the undesirable outcome of Lawrence withdrawing from the deal might be, it would most certainly mean the failure of the plan.
She was surely trying to guess at what he had seen and heard around town today.
If she was going to lie, her chances of matching up with whatever information Lawrence had gathered today were almost nil.
"The bishop of the church here is a relic of the good old days, a past he can't forget," began Eve. "He's ambitious. In his younger days, he came here as a missionary, enduring hellish hardship, and what got him through it was his goal of becoming powerful and influential. He wants to establish a cathedral here. In other words, he wants to be an archbishop."
"An archbishop—" The word was practically synonymous with power.
Eve nodded and continued. "As I said before, I may have fallen into disgrace, but I'm nobility. When I began searching this area for good business opportunities, I heard tell of a bishop turning an untoward profit. It was the bishop here. At the time, he was using a trade company as a front and using tithes to get in on the fur trade, but in the end, he just shut himself up in his church and counted figures. He was getting deeper and deeper in the red. So I proposed a way to kill two birds with one stone."
"And that would be the statue trade."
"Exactly. And I didn't just sell him statues. I'm nobility of the kingdom of Winfiel, after all. I can still speak to those in power. I put him in contact with the archbishop there, whose power base is unshakable."
Lawrence found himself nodding internally.
If that was true, then the statues were probably made by the same traveling stonemasons that the archbishop brought together to maintain his cathedral. Once the repairs to the intricate masonry of a cathedral were complete, they would normally either move on to another town or do piecemeal work.
But even so, the amount of certain types of work is limited, which can be a source of friction between groups of masons in an area. And ironically, it was the itinerant stonemasons, who spent time polishing their skills, who were by far the most capable, and they were the only ones who could handle the maintenance on the intricate stonework of the cathedrals.
So in towns that had a cathedral, whenever it required repair, the local stoneworkers worried about having their business stolen and being made superfluous.
Which was how Eve's business, based as it was on stonework, helped ease that concern.
| It was an ideal situation; one in which all parties profited.
"I'm glad you understand. That will make this easier to explain. It's as you've said. The reason I contented myself with the thin margins I made by selling statues was because I was counting on the bishop here to become an archbishop. But then—"
Lawrence could not tell whether the edge that crept into Eve's voice was an act or a result of her suppressed anger.
But so far all the facts fit; Eve's story was all too plausible.
"As the bishop profited from his deal with me and solidified his position, people around him started to divine what his goal was, and the bishop set about eliminating obstacles. The current affair was just a convenient excuse for him to cut me off. He owed me. He probably thought that the longer I was around, the more unfavorable demands I would make of him. And of course, I had planned to do exactly that. It was my right. But he decided he'd rather deal with an already-established trade firm instead of a single merchant just trying to establish herself. Even I can understand the reasoning, but that doesn't mean I agree with it."
Lawrence mused to himself that anger burned as visibly as any flame.
"So we argued, and we split," finished Eve.
Sitting next to Lawrence, Holo was so quiet that it was easy to forget she was there.
Lawrence went over Eve's story again in his head.
It seemed to be entirely consistent. So consistent, in fact, that it made him suspicious.
If it was a lie, it was a good enough one that he almost wouldn't mind working with her anyway.
"I see. So that's what made it hard for you to turn your statues into cash and why you can't very well just wait for next year's northern campaign."
Eve's silence beneath her cowl contrasted starkly with her previous garrulity.
Lawrence took a slow, quiet breath.
He closed his eyes.
If he was going to doubt even this consistent of a story, any other deal would be difficult as well.
On the other hand, he might just be fooling himself.
Only merchants, constantly scheming and being schemed upon, had to worry about such things.
"Understood," he said, exhaling the breath he had been holding.
He noticed Eve's shoulders move ever so slightly.
He was confident that this wasn't an act on her part.
No merchant was capable of remaining completely expressionless in such moments.
"Let's discuss the particulars of the deal," he finished.
"...Yes, let's."
Lawrence got the sense that in the shadow of her cowl, Eve smiled.
She extended her hand.
Lawrence took it; it was trembling ever so slightly.
Subsequently, Lawrence and Eve with Holo in tow ventured out into the town.
Their expedition was not to celebrate their newly established contract. Merchants do not celebrate anything until profit is in their hands.
There was no way of knowing exactly when the Council of Fifty would make their decision public and unleash the rush of merchants trying to monopolize the fur trade, so they needed to secure the necessary cash as quickly as possible.
So out into the town they went to call upon the trading firm that would lend them the money with Holo as collateral.
The trading firm was called the Delink Company.
Though it was situated conveniently close to the port, the building was rather small and had no loading dock.
The only thing that identified it as a trading company was a small flag hanging unobtrusively in the doorway.
However, the building's stone construction was so fine that not even a single hair could slip between the stones, and though it was fully five stories tall, it did not seem to lean against the adjoining buildings.
As Lawrence examined the flag more closely, which was dimly lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp, he could see that it was an embroidered piece of the highest quality. Set against mist-gray stones, it gave the trading house the presence of a small giant, not some come-lately business.
Lawrence wondered if this company's approach to publicity was different from other houses'.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was an ideal situation; one in which all parties profited.
"I'm glad you understand. That will make this easier to explain. It's as you've said. The reason I contented myself with the thin margins I made by selling statues was because I was counting on the bishop here to become an archbishop. But then—"
Lawrence could not tell whether the edge that crept into Eve's voice was an act or a result of her suppressed anger.
But so far all the facts fit; Eve's story was all too plausible.
"As the bishop profited from his deal with me and solidified his position, people around him started to divine what his goal was, and the bishop set about eliminating obstacles. The current affair was just a convenient excuse for him to cut me off. He owed me. He probably thought that the longer I was around, the more unfavorable demands I would make of him. And of course, I had planned to do exactly that. It was my right. But he decided he'd rather deal with an already-established trade firm instead of a single merchant just trying to establish herself. Even I can understand the reasoning, but that doesn't mean I agree with it."
Lawrence mused to himself that anger burned as visibly as any flame.
"So we argued, and we split," finished Eve.
Sitting next to Lawrence, Holo was so quiet that it was easy to forget she was there.
Lawrence went over Eve's story again in his head.
It seemed to be entirely consistent. So consistent, in fact, that it made him suspicious.
If it was a lie, it was a good enough one that he almost wouldn't mind working with her anyway.
"I see. So that's what made it hard for you to turn your statues into cash and why you can't very well just wait for next year's northern campaign."
Eve's silence beneath her cowl contrasted starkly with her previous garrulity.
Lawrence took a slow, quiet breath.
He closed his eyes.
If he was going to doubt even this consistent of a story, any other deal would be difficult as well.
On the other hand, he might just be fooling himself.
Only merchants, constantly scheming and being schemed upon, had to worry about such things.
"Understood," he said, exhaling the breath he had been holding.
He noticed Eve's shoulders move ever so slightly.
He was confident that this wasn't an act on her part.
No merchant was capable of remaining completely expressionless in such moments.
"Let's discuss the particulars of the deal," he finished.
"...Yes, let's."
Lawrence got the sense that in the shadow of her cowl, Eve smiled.
She extended her hand.
Lawrence took it; it was trembling ever so slightly.
Subsequently, Lawrence and Eve with Holo in tow ventured out into the town.
Their expedition was not to celebrate their newly established contract. Merchants do not celebrate anything until profit is in their hands.
There was no way of knowing exactly when the Council of Fifty would make their decision public and unleash the rush of merchants trying to monopolize the fur trade, so they needed to secure the necessary cash as quickly as possible.
So out into the town they went to call upon the trading firm that would lend them the money with Holo as collateral.
The trading firm was called the Delink Company.
Though it was situated conveniently close to the port, the building was rather small and had no loading dock.
The only thing that identified it as a trading company was a small flag hanging unobtrusively in the doorway.
However, the building's stone construction was so fine that not even a single hair could slip between the stones, and though it was fully five stories tall, it did not seem to lean against the adjoining buildings.
As Lawrence examined the flag more closely, which was dimly lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp, he could see that it was an embroidered piece of the highest quality. Set against mist-gray stones, it gave the trading house the presence of a small giant, not some come-lately business.
Lawrence wondered if this company's approach to publicity was different from other houses'.
| Merchants who dealt with different goods had widely varying customs.
Four men from the Delink Company came out to greet Lawrence and his entourage, each of them dressed fit to represent their company, not a one of them standing out among the others.
Lawrence had heard that groups dealing in human commodities always had multiple people judge the quality of their goods. These four were no doubt the managers of the company.
"I am Kraft Lawrence."
Lawrence shook hands with Eringin.
The man's hands were strangely soft, and a vague smile stuck to his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Sheep merchants had loud voices like a barking dog. So was this the smile of a slave trader?
Holo shook hands with him next, and his eyes as he regarded her were reptilian—a lizard's or a snake's.
Eve removed her cowl but exchanged no particular greetings. Perhaps this firm had brokered the deal when she had been sold to that newly rich merchant.
"Do have a seat," invited Eringin, and they all sat on felt-covered chairs, fine ones, stuffed with cotton. "I have already heard the particulars from the honorable head of the Bolan house."
"So let's not waste time with empty chitchat," he seemed to be saying.
Lawrence had no intention of negotiating the price. He knew nothing about the market for young noble girls.
"I would ask you one thing," said Eringin. "I have heard that you, Mr. Lawrence, are a member of the Rowen Trade Guild?"
The three men behind Eringin stood there without so much as twitching, staring at Lawrence.
While none of them wore any particular expression, they collectively gave off an aura that was altogether unsettling.
Even Lawrence, well used to signing contracts, felt the pressure.
Perhaps it was a technique of theirs; having been sold off to this company, one would have a hard time lying to them.
"Yes," answered Lawrence briefly, and the oppressive aura of the three men immediately vanished.
It seemed they truly had been trying to wring the truth out of him.
"Rowen, then. I do believe Lord Goldens has dealt with you many times. Perhaps it was he from whom I heard yours is a keen-eyed guild."
Lawrence couldn't help being unsettled at the mention of one of the guild's central figures—even though he knew Eringin brought it up to make Lawrence feel as though escape was impossible.
"If you're attached to such a guild, you're a man to be reckoned with indeed, and your companion is a girl from the nobility. Now, if I might explain what the four of us have decided."
Eve said she wanted 2,500 pieces.
Eringin's affected smile widened.
In any world, it was those with money who were strong.
"Two thousand pieces of trenni silver."
It fell short of the goal, but with two thousand in their war chest, the plan would yield incredible success.
It was all Lawrence could manage not to broadcast the way the strength drained from his nervous body. Eve seemed to be doing likewise.
She forced her face to be expressionless.
"Ms. Eve proposed 2,500, but we're unable to deal in that amount with individual merchants. This is for that...fur business that's going around, is it not? Thus, in exchange, we will waive our standard commission and lend you the full amount. But as we do not have that much silver on hand at the moment, the remittance will be in the form of sixty gold lumione."
A single piece of lumione gold was worth roughly thirty trenni. Lawrence wasn't sure of the details of Lenos's marketplace, but when used in exchange for goods besides other currencies, the lumione possessed a singular might.
Depending on the circumstances, it might garner significantly more fur than two thousand trenni would have.
But what surprised Lawrence even more was the fact that they were willing to lend the lump sum.
The mere possession of high-value coins held value. Gold or silver currency was a versatile asset that could be melted down if necessary and was far superior to records of money on paper.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Merchants who dealt with different goods had widely varying customs.
Four men from the Delink Company came out to greet Lawrence and his entourage, each of them dressed fit to represent their company, not a one of them standing out among the others.
Lawrence had heard that groups dealing in human commodities always had multiple people judge the quality of their goods. These four were no doubt the managers of the company.
"I am Kraft Lawrence."
Lawrence shook hands with Eringin.
The man's hands were strangely soft, and a vague smile stuck to his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Sheep merchants had loud voices like a barking dog. So was this the smile of a slave trader?
Holo shook hands with him next, and his eyes as he regarded her were reptilian—a lizard's or a snake's.
Eve removed her cowl but exchanged no particular greetings. Perhaps this firm had brokered the deal when she had been sold to that newly rich merchant.
"Do have a seat," invited Eringin, and they all sat on felt-covered chairs, fine ones, stuffed with cotton. "I have already heard the particulars from the honorable head of the Bolan house."
"So let's not waste time with empty chitchat," he seemed to be saying.
Lawrence had no intention of negotiating the price. He knew nothing about the market for young noble girls.
"I would ask you one thing," said Eringin. "I have heard that you, Mr. Lawrence, are a member of the Rowen Trade Guild?"
The three men behind Eringin stood there without so much as twitching, staring at Lawrence.
While none of them wore any particular expression, they collectively gave off an aura that was altogether unsettling.
Even Lawrence, well used to signing contracts, felt the pressure.
Perhaps it was a technique of theirs; having been sold off to this company, one would have a hard time lying to them.
"Yes," answered Lawrence briefly, and the oppressive aura of the three men immediately vanished.
It seemed they truly had been trying to wring the truth out of him.
"Rowen, then. I do believe Lord Goldens has dealt with you many times. Perhaps it was he from whom I heard yours is a keen-eyed guild."
Lawrence couldn't help being unsettled at the mention of one of the guild's central figures—even though he knew Eringin brought it up to make Lawrence feel as though escape was impossible.
"If you're attached to such a guild, you're a man to be reckoned with indeed, and your companion is a girl from the nobility. Now, if I might explain what the four of us have decided."
Eve said she wanted 2,500 pieces.
Eringin's affected smile widened.
In any world, it was those with money who were strong.
"Two thousand pieces of trenni silver."
It fell short of the goal, but with two thousand in their war chest, the plan would yield incredible success.
It was all Lawrence could manage not to broadcast the way the strength drained from his nervous body. Eve seemed to be doing likewise.
She forced her face to be expressionless.
"Ms. Eve proposed 2,500, but we're unable to deal in that amount with individual merchants. This is for that...fur business that's going around, is it not? Thus, in exchange, we will waive our standard commission and lend you the full amount. But as we do not have that much silver on hand at the moment, the remittance will be in the form of sixty gold lumione."
A single piece of lumione gold was worth roughly thirty trenni. Lawrence wasn't sure of the details of Lenos's marketplace, but when used in exchange for goods besides other currencies, the lumione possessed a singular might.
Depending on the circumstances, it might garner significantly more fur than two thousand trenni would have.
But what surprised Lawrence even more was the fact that they were willing to lend the lump sum.
The mere possession of high-value coins held value. Gold or silver currency was a versatile asset that could be melted down if necessary and was far superior to records of money on paper.
| But not this time.
"That's generous of you," murmured Eve.
"This is an investment," said Eringin, deepening his smile. "You're a clever person. You've managed to pull profit from the state and arrangement of this town. There is little doubt you will use this success to reach still greater heights, and we wish to share that good luck. And"—he turned to Lawrence—"you are a fortunate man. It was nothing less than good fortune that led you two to meet. And you are not losing yourself to excitement about a deal this large. We believe this is because you've become accustomed to good luck. In our business, the element of fortune is a very important one. Unless one is accustomed to such fortune, one can make mistakes. On that count, we trust you."
Even as Lawrence admired the man's method of estimating value, it did not escape him that the only thing being praised about him was his good luck.
He tried to decide whether to feel pleased or aggrieved and suddenly got the sense that beside him, Holo was snickering at his expense.
"Our job is not unlike prospecting for a gold mine. To find partners, we won't shrink away from investing some money."
"So, how are we to accept the money that will silence so many wagging tongues?"
Eringin smiled at Eve's question, and for the first time, he seemed sincere. "You'll be buying up fur from the Arkieh Company, correct? You certainly have a good eye. I would love for you to tell us your secret—"
"My voice is a bit hoarse these days. Makes it hard to talk," said Eve.
It did not sound like a joke. Eve's words were hard, and Eringin's words were sly and menacing, like a snake.
It was a strange conversation, different from any Lawrence had experienced before.
Of course, there was no need for negotiating parties to get along particularly well, but basic human courtesy was lacking between these two.
As long as they made their money, each cared not one whit for the other's welfare.
It was as obvious as air.
"The transaction? That will be at your preference."
"What do you want to do?" Eve asked, looking at Lawrence for the first time.
They hadn't conferred ahead of time, so Lawrence said what came to mind.
"'Tis hard to sleep with such brightly glittering coins lighting the darkness." It was Holo's presence next to him that helped him straighten up a bit and manage a thin smile.
Eringin made an impressed face, then smiled, shrugging. "A memorable answer! As one handles larger and large amounts of money, one's pride rises as well. Such freedom makes it easy to become haughty and sarcastic. But your words, modest yet incisive—that is true freedom. We must all learn from your example."
Did Eringin handle such terrifying amounts of money on a daily basis? Even the service charge on two thousand silver pieces would be a significant sum, but he had waived it without a second thought.
When a merchant rose in the world, was this what awaited?
"Well then, shall we remit it to you immediately before you go to buy up your fur?"
Wondering what Eve was thinking, Lawrence didn't immediately answer in order to give her a chance to speak up if she chose—but ultimately, she said nothing.
"Yes, if you please," said Lawrence.
"Very well." Eringin extended his hand to shake.
Lawrence accepted it. The handshake was ever so slightly stronger than the one that had preceded it.
Instead of turning to Holo, Eringin faced Eve and offered his hand, which Eve accepted. Despite the sharp negotiations, it seemed there remained the barest hint of civility.
"Let us pray for a successful transaction," said Eringin, closing his eyes, though it did not seem as though he believed in any sort of god.
There was something divine about that spirit, that merchant's spirit that pursued profit above all else and trampled any god in its path.
"An unpleasant man," declared Eve as they left the trading house after having signed various papers.
Her words brimmed with such feeling that Lawrence found this a bit unusual.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But not this time.
"That's generous of you," murmured Eve.
"This is an investment," said Eringin, deepening his smile. "You're a clever person. You've managed to pull profit from the state and arrangement of this town. There is little doubt you will use this success to reach still greater heights, and we wish to share that good luck. And"—he turned to Lawrence—"you are a fortunate man. It was nothing less than good fortune that led you two to meet. And you are not losing yourself to excitement about a deal this large. We believe this is because you've become accustomed to good luck. In our business, the element of fortune is a very important one. Unless one is accustomed to such fortune, one can make mistakes. On that count, we trust you."
Even as Lawrence admired the man's method of estimating value, it did not escape him that the only thing being praised about him was his good luck.
He tried to decide whether to feel pleased or aggrieved and suddenly got the sense that beside him, Holo was snickering at his expense.
"Our job is not unlike prospecting for a gold mine. To find partners, we won't shrink away from investing some money."
"So, how are we to accept the money that will silence so many wagging tongues?"
Eringin smiled at Eve's question, and for the first time, he seemed sincere. "You'll be buying up fur from the Arkieh Company, correct? You certainly have a good eye. I would love for you to tell us your secret—"
"My voice is a bit hoarse these days. Makes it hard to talk," said Eve.
It did not sound like a joke. Eve's words were hard, and Eringin's words were sly and menacing, like a snake.
It was a strange conversation, different from any Lawrence had experienced before.
Of course, there was no need for negotiating parties to get along particularly well, but basic human courtesy was lacking between these two.
As long as they made their money, each cared not one whit for the other's welfare.
It was as obvious as air.
"The transaction? That will be at your preference."
"What do you want to do?" Eve asked, looking at Lawrence for the first time.
They hadn't conferred ahead of time, so Lawrence said what came to mind.
"'Tis hard to sleep with such brightly glittering coins lighting the darkness." It was Holo's presence next to him that helped him straighten up a bit and manage a thin smile.
Eringin made an impressed face, then smiled, shrugging. "A memorable answer! As one handles larger and large amounts of money, one's pride rises as well. Such freedom makes it easy to become haughty and sarcastic. But your words, modest yet incisive—that is true freedom. We must all learn from your example."
Did Eringin handle such terrifying amounts of money on a daily basis? Even the service charge on two thousand silver pieces would be a significant sum, but he had waived it without a second thought.
When a merchant rose in the world, was this what awaited?
"Well then, shall we remit it to you immediately before you go to buy up your fur?"
Wondering what Eve was thinking, Lawrence didn't immediately answer in order to give her a chance to speak up if she chose—but ultimately, she said nothing.
"Yes, if you please," said Lawrence.
"Very well." Eringin extended his hand to shake.
Lawrence accepted it. The handshake was ever so slightly stronger than the one that had preceded it.
Instead of turning to Holo, Eringin faced Eve and offered his hand, which Eve accepted. Despite the sharp negotiations, it seemed there remained the barest hint of civility.
"Let us pray for a successful transaction," said Eringin, closing his eyes, though it did not seem as though he believed in any sort of god.
There was something divine about that spirit, that merchant's spirit that pursued profit above all else and trampled any god in its path.
"An unpleasant man," declared Eve as they left the trading house after having signed various papers.
Her words brimmed with such feeling that Lawrence found this a bit unusual.
| "...Do you really think so?" asked Eve.
"Yes. Here I struggle to make a few hundred silver pieces, but now I've seen an entirely different level."
"And yet you managed to have quite the wit with him."
"Oh, that business about the gold coins?"
Eve nodded and began to slowly walk.
Lawrence took Holo's hand and followed his new partner. Holo seemed to have perfectly understood the role she was to play and had been obediently silent the entire time. When Lawrence took her hand, though, he noticed it was hot.
She must not have liked Eringin's gaze, either.
"It was quite refreshing to hear such wit," said Eve. "You threw Eringin off balance. He won't underestimate a traveling merchant again."
"I'm honored," answered Lawrence. He heard Eve's rough laugh.
"Are you sure you're not the son of some wealthy merchant house?"
"There are evenings when I feel like that."
"I give up," murmured Eve, and for once, the eyes beneath her cowl were not harsh as she spoke. "Are you not thirsty after such speech?"
They hadn't completed the entire deal, but the first barrier had been overcome.
Lawrence was not so dry as to disagree.
Even after nightfall, there were many stalls still selling liquor near the docks.
Lawrence ordered three cups of wine, and the three of them sat on discarded packing crates nearby.
"Here's to success," said Eve, raising her cup in a toast.
The three of them merely pretended to bump their chipped wooden cups together before drinking the wine.
"I suppose it's a bit late to be asking this—," started Eve.
"What's that?"
"Where did you pick up your companion?"
"Wha—?"
Lawrence was unable to conceal his surprise but not because he was relaxing after tense negotiations.
It was simply because he had never expected Eve to care about such things.
"Is it that odd for me to ask?" inquired Eve with a rueful grin. Thankfully, Holo merely held her earthen cup in both hands and said nothing. "I did say I wouldn't pry, but I am curious."
"Yes, well...people often ask."
"So where did you pick her up? I won't be surprised if you tell me she's the daughter of some rich landlord, overthrown in a peasant uprising."
It was the kind of joke that could only have come from Eve, herself being fallen nobility, but even so it was surprising. Lawrence heard a faint swishing sound coming from Holo's back, and ever so casually, he stepped on her foot.
"Evidently she was born in the north. She lived for a long time in the wheat fields of the south."
"Oh?"
"I'd done many deals in a town in the area, so I stopped in on my travels to see a friend, but then she snuck into my wagon bed."
Thinking back to that time, Lawrence realized Holo had been snuggled in among the furs he'd been hauling at the time.
Perhaps her tail gave her some kind of strange connection to fur.
"She said she wanted to return to her homeland, and after various twists and turns, I wound up acting as her escort."
It was a simple story to relate. There were no lies. Holo nodded, and Eve took a sip of her wine.
"Sounds like an encounter dreamt up by some two-copper bard," she said.
Lawrence had to laugh.
It was true, after all.
And yet what had happened after that was something that couldn't be turned into money.
It was absurd, it was delightful, and Lawrence wanted it to continue for the rest of his life.
"It's those twists and turns that I wonder about," said Eve. "But I doubt you'd even tell that to a priest."
"I certainly couldn't tell a priest would be more accurate."
It was the truth, and yet what Lawrence meant and what Eve assumed were two very different things.
Eve laughed loudly, but the port was not so quiet as to give someone cause to turn and look.
"Well, you've surely dressed her nicely. It's clear enough it was an encounter you cherish."
"The moment I let my guard down, she bought them herself."
"I don't doubt it. She seems a clever girl."
No doubt the clever girl was smiling to herself beneath her hood.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "...Do you really think so?" asked Eve.
"Yes. Here I struggle to make a few hundred silver pieces, but now I've seen an entirely different level."
"And yet you managed to have quite the wit with him."
"Oh, that business about the gold coins?"
Eve nodded and began to slowly walk.
Lawrence took Holo's hand and followed his new partner. Holo seemed to have perfectly understood the role she was to play and had been obediently silent the entire time. When Lawrence took her hand, though, he noticed it was hot.
She must not have liked Eringin's gaze, either.
"It was quite refreshing to hear such wit," said Eve. "You threw Eringin off balance. He won't underestimate a traveling merchant again."
"I'm honored," answered Lawrence. He heard Eve's rough laugh.
"Are you sure you're not the son of some wealthy merchant house?"
"There are evenings when I feel like that."
"I give up," murmured Eve, and for once, the eyes beneath her cowl were not harsh as she spoke. "Are you not thirsty after such speech?"
They hadn't completed the entire deal, but the first barrier had been overcome.
Lawrence was not so dry as to disagree.
Even after nightfall, there were many stalls still selling liquor near the docks.
Lawrence ordered three cups of wine, and the three of them sat on discarded packing crates nearby.
"Here's to success," said Eve, raising her cup in a toast.
The three of them merely pretended to bump their chipped wooden cups together before drinking the wine.
"I suppose it's a bit late to be asking this—," started Eve.
"What's that?"
"Where did you pick up your companion?"
"Wha—?"
Lawrence was unable to conceal his surprise but not because he was relaxing after tense negotiations.
It was simply because he had never expected Eve to care about such things.
"Is it that odd for me to ask?" inquired Eve with a rueful grin. Thankfully, Holo merely held her earthen cup in both hands and said nothing. "I did say I wouldn't pry, but I am curious."
"Yes, well...people often ask."
"So where did you pick her up? I won't be surprised if you tell me she's the daughter of some rich landlord, overthrown in a peasant uprising."
It was the kind of joke that could only have come from Eve, herself being fallen nobility, but even so it was surprising. Lawrence heard a faint swishing sound coming from Holo's back, and ever so casually, he stepped on her foot.
"Evidently she was born in the north. She lived for a long time in the wheat fields of the south."
"Oh?"
"I'd done many deals in a town in the area, so I stopped in on my travels to see a friend, but then she snuck into my wagon bed."
Thinking back to that time, Lawrence realized Holo had been snuggled in among the furs he'd been hauling at the time.
Perhaps her tail gave her some kind of strange connection to fur.
"She said she wanted to return to her homeland, and after various twists and turns, I wound up acting as her escort."
It was a simple story to relate. There were no lies. Holo nodded, and Eve took a sip of her wine.
"Sounds like an encounter dreamt up by some two-copper bard," she said.
Lawrence had to laugh.
It was true, after all.
And yet what had happened after that was something that couldn't be turned into money.
It was absurd, it was delightful, and Lawrence wanted it to continue for the rest of his life.
"It's those twists and turns that I wonder about," said Eve. "But I doubt you'd even tell that to a priest."
"I certainly couldn't tell a priest would be more accurate."
It was the truth, and yet what Lawrence meant and what Eve assumed were two very different things.
Eve laughed loudly, but the port was not so quiet as to give someone cause to turn and look.
"Well, you've surely dressed her nicely. It's clear enough it was an encounter you cherish."
"The moment I let my guard down, she bought them herself."
"I don't doubt it. She seems a clever girl."
No doubt the clever girl was smiling to herself beneath her hood.
| Lawrence's hand froze just short of bringing his wine cup to his lips. For a moment he wondered if he and Holo's exchanges had been audible to others in the inn, but then he realized Eve was trying to trick him into revealing something.
Holo now stepped on his foot, as if telling him not to fall for the trick.
"It's to be treasured. Money can buy companionship but not its quality."
Lawrence's gaze strayed to what lay beneath Eve's cowl.
Her blue eyes peered out at him—a rare, fine blue they were.
"The rich merchant who bought me was a terrible man," she said, looking away, glancing at Holo before her eyes strayed to the docks. It was her self-loathing smirk that finally drove Lawrence's gaze away from her profile. "If I claimed not to want your sympathy, I'd be lying, but it's ancient history now. And he died soon after."
"Is that...so."
"Yeah. You probably know this, but in my homeland, it's the wool trade that prospers. He made a fortune competing with foreign rivals in wool futures, and just when he'd gotten gold sufficient to boost his own status, he went bankrupt when the king changed policies. The deal was huge, an unbelievable amount to fallen nobles like us, who had trouble even buying bread. But he was a proud man, prouder even than the nobility, so when his ruin was certain he slit his own throat. That was the only part about him worthy of the Bolan name."
Eve spoke with neither anger nor sadness nor grim amusement at the fate of her nouveau riche master. She sounded almost nostalgic.
If this was an act, Lawrence would never be able to believe anyone again.
"The marriage ceremony was grand. My butler cried, saying how it was one of the finest in the history of the Bolan house. Of course, to me it was a funeral. But there were good things about it. I didn't have to worry about how I would eat. And I didn't get pregnant."
Blood ties were more important to the nobility than to anyone else.
Children were not gifts from God, but rather political tools.
"And nobody saw me stealing money from his coin purse, bit by bit. Once he was bankrupt and the entire household was forfeit, it was enough for me to start on my own as a merchant."
To have enough wealth to buy a noble family outright, he must have owned a grand trading house indeed.
For a noble girl like Eve to choose the path of the merchant, she must have had the help of those within the firm so that she could arrange such things.
"It's my dream, you see, to build something bigger than him and his company," said Eve plainly. "It was only good luck that allowed him to buy me. In truth, I'm not so cheap as to be bought by a merchant like him, and I want to prove it. Childish, no?" she asked in her hoarse voice, and when she smiled, her face looked very young indeed.
When they shook hands agreeing to do this deal, her hand had been shaking.
No one was perfect. In this world, everyone had a weakness.
"Ha, please, forget all this. Sometimes I just feel like I want to talk about it, that's all. I suppose it means I've a ways to go yet," said Eve, draining her wine cup and burping quietly. "No, that's not it."
She lifted the edge of her cowl up. Lawrence wondered as to her aim.
"I was jealous of you two," said Eve. Her blue eyes narrowed and were bright.
Lawrence wondered how to answer and finally escaped into his wine cup.
Holo would make fun of him for it, no doubt.
Eve chuckled. "How absurd. What we should be worrying about is profit. Am I wrong?"
Lawrence looked at his reflection in the wine.
Just like Eve's, it was not the face of a merchant.
"Right you are," he said, tossing back his wine. He dreaded hearing what Holo would have to say about this later, but as Eve raised her voice in a short, dry laugh, both of them stood and resumed their proper merchant expressions.
"We'll make for the deal as soon as the council announces its decision. Keep Arold informed as to your location."
"I shall."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence's hand froze just short of bringing his wine cup to his lips. For a moment he wondered if he and Holo's exchanges had been audible to others in the inn, but then he realized Eve was trying to trick him into revealing something.
Holo now stepped on his foot, as if telling him not to fall for the trick.
"It's to be treasured. Money can buy companionship but not its quality."
Lawrence's gaze strayed to what lay beneath Eve's cowl.
Her blue eyes peered out at him—a rare, fine blue they were.
"The rich merchant who bought me was a terrible man," she said, looking away, glancing at Holo before her eyes strayed to the docks. It was her self-loathing smirk that finally drove Lawrence's gaze away from her profile. "If I claimed not to want your sympathy, I'd be lying, but it's ancient history now. And he died soon after."
"Is that...so."
"Yeah. You probably know this, but in my homeland, it's the wool trade that prospers. He made a fortune competing with foreign rivals in wool futures, and just when he'd gotten gold sufficient to boost his own status, he went bankrupt when the king changed policies. The deal was huge, an unbelievable amount to fallen nobles like us, who had trouble even buying bread. But he was a proud man, prouder even than the nobility, so when his ruin was certain he slit his own throat. That was the only part about him worthy of the Bolan name."
Eve spoke with neither anger nor sadness nor grim amusement at the fate of her nouveau riche master. She sounded almost nostalgic.
If this was an act, Lawrence would never be able to believe anyone again.
"The marriage ceremony was grand. My butler cried, saying how it was one of the finest in the history of the Bolan house. Of course, to me it was a funeral. But there were good things about it. I didn't have to worry about how I would eat. And I didn't get pregnant."
Blood ties were more important to the nobility than to anyone else.
Children were not gifts from God, but rather political tools.
"And nobody saw me stealing money from his coin purse, bit by bit. Once he was bankrupt and the entire household was forfeit, it was enough for me to start on my own as a merchant."
To have enough wealth to buy a noble family outright, he must have owned a grand trading house indeed.
For a noble girl like Eve to choose the path of the merchant, she must have had the help of those within the firm so that she could arrange such things.
"It's my dream, you see, to build something bigger than him and his company," said Eve plainly. "It was only good luck that allowed him to buy me. In truth, I'm not so cheap as to be bought by a merchant like him, and I want to prove it. Childish, no?" she asked in her hoarse voice, and when she smiled, her face looked very young indeed.
When they shook hands agreeing to do this deal, her hand had been shaking.
No one was perfect. In this world, everyone had a weakness.
"Ha, please, forget all this. Sometimes I just feel like I want to talk about it, that's all. I suppose it means I've a ways to go yet," said Eve, draining her wine cup and burping quietly. "No, that's not it."
She lifted the edge of her cowl up. Lawrence wondered as to her aim.
"I was jealous of you two," said Eve. Her blue eyes narrowed and were bright.
Lawrence wondered how to answer and finally escaped into his wine cup.
Holo would make fun of him for it, no doubt.
Eve chuckled. "How absurd. What we should be worrying about is profit. Am I wrong?"
Lawrence looked at his reflection in the wine.
Just like Eve's, it was not the face of a merchant.
"Right you are," he said, tossing back his wine. He dreaded hearing what Holo would have to say about this later, but as Eve raised her voice in a short, dry laugh, both of them stood and resumed their proper merchant expressions.
"We'll make for the deal as soon as the council announces its decision. Keep Arold informed as to your location."
"I shall."
| "Of course," said Lawrence, taking her hand.
Lawrence remembered Holo's reply, back upon entering Lenos, when he had told her not to become angry should they happen to find wolf fur.
He wasn't worried about himself, but he could not be at peace with someone he knew was being hunted.
That seemed to apply to business, too.
Buying a child to adopt into a family or buying a slave to use for labor...this was a necessary trade and not something anyone questioned.
But to even briefly consider the thought of actually selling Holo put Lawrence's heart into disarray. He felt as though he understood for the first time the Church's fussy denouncement of the slave trade.
Once they returned to the inn, Eve remained on the first floor, saying she was going to drink with Arold.
Holo was the only one involved in this affair to collapse onto the bed, a worn-out expression on her face.
"That was certainly an aggravating way to spend time," she declared.
Lawrence smiled wearily as he lit the tallow lamp. "You were as meek as a kitten."
"Well, this 'kitten' is what you're borrowing money on. I had no choice."
Lawrence had decided he could trust Eve's story, and in return, Eve had helped the deal proceed smoothly. As long as nothing unexpected happened, it wasn't blind optimism to believe that their fur deal would be successful and that their coin purses would soon swell with money.
No one would laugh at him for prematurely feeling that fuzzy warmth in his stomach of which the beggar had spoken.
It had been a very long time since he had felt that sensation.
After all, his long-held desire of being a town merchant was finally beginning to materialize.
"You were a great help," said Lawrence, stroking his chin lightly. "Thank you."
Holo looked at him in a none-too-friendly manner. She flicked her ears as if to brush the dust from them, sighed resignedly, then rolled over from lying on her back to her front and opened a book.
Yet in truth, she seemed a bit bashful.
"Was there anything that worried you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo wriggled out of her robe as she looked at the book, a task Lawrence good-naturedly helped her with. She was not being difficult, so his guess that she was felt bashful about his thanks was probably not far from the mark.
"There were many things that bothered me. There is a saying that there's a demon who sings an ill-omened song buried at the crossroads."
"I've heard that one."
"Oh?" Her hair spilled out like oil over water after having taken her cloak off. She gathered it up.
"There are traveling musicians who carry instruments and wander from town to town, and sometimes they're accused of being servants of a demon and blamed for bringing bad luck or sickness with them. And the place where they hang such musicians is always the crossroads outside of town."
"Oh ho." Holo's sash, undone, had slipped off onto her tail; Lawrence took it off as she tried to brush it free. She nuzzled her tail as if in thanks.
When he playfully made as if to touch it himself, she dodged quickly away.
"Then, once the demon musician is dead, they wish for its spirit to go haunt some other place. That's why crossroads near towns are kept so carefully free of stones with holes in the road quickly filled. If someone were to stumble there, it's said the buried demon could come back to life."
"Hmph. Humans believe all sorts of things," muttered Holo, seeming genuinely impressed, then turned her attention back to her book.
"Do wolves have no superstitions?"
***
Holo was suddenly serious, making Lawrence wonder if he had accidentally stepped on her tail, but she seemed to be simply thinking. After a time, she looked over at him.
"Now that you mention it, I've realized—we don't."
"Well, it's nice you've nothing that stops children from being able to pee at night."
Holo looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
"Just so you know, I'm not talking about me," Lawrence added.
"Heh." Holo smiled, her tail wagging.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Of course," said Lawrence, taking her hand.
Lawrence remembered Holo's reply, back upon entering Lenos, when he had told her not to become angry should they happen to find wolf fur.
He wasn't worried about himself, but he could not be at peace with someone he knew was being hunted.
That seemed to apply to business, too.
Buying a child to adopt into a family or buying a slave to use for labor...this was a necessary trade and not something anyone questioned.
But to even briefly consider the thought of actually selling Holo put Lawrence's heart into disarray. He felt as though he understood for the first time the Church's fussy denouncement of the slave trade.
Once they returned to the inn, Eve remained on the first floor, saying she was going to drink with Arold.
Holo was the only one involved in this affair to collapse onto the bed, a worn-out expression on her face.
"That was certainly an aggravating way to spend time," she declared.
Lawrence smiled wearily as he lit the tallow lamp. "You were as meek as a kitten."
"Well, this 'kitten' is what you're borrowing money on. I had no choice."
Lawrence had decided he could trust Eve's story, and in return, Eve had helped the deal proceed smoothly. As long as nothing unexpected happened, it wasn't blind optimism to believe that their fur deal would be successful and that their coin purses would soon swell with money.
No one would laugh at him for prematurely feeling that fuzzy warmth in his stomach of which the beggar had spoken.
It had been a very long time since he had felt that sensation.
After all, his long-held desire of being a town merchant was finally beginning to materialize.
"You were a great help," said Lawrence, stroking his chin lightly. "Thank you."
Holo looked at him in a none-too-friendly manner. She flicked her ears as if to brush the dust from them, sighed resignedly, then rolled over from lying on her back to her front and opened a book.
Yet in truth, she seemed a bit bashful.
"Was there anything that worried you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo wriggled out of her robe as she looked at the book, a task Lawrence good-naturedly helped her with. She was not being difficult, so his guess that she was felt bashful about his thanks was probably not far from the mark.
"There were many things that bothered me. There is a saying that there's a demon who sings an ill-omened song buried at the crossroads."
"I've heard that one."
"Oh?" Her hair spilled out like oil over water after having taken her cloak off. She gathered it up.
"There are traveling musicians who carry instruments and wander from town to town, and sometimes they're accused of being servants of a demon and blamed for bringing bad luck or sickness with them. And the place where they hang such musicians is always the crossroads outside of town."
"Oh ho." Holo's sash, undone, had slipped off onto her tail; Lawrence took it off as she tried to brush it free. She nuzzled her tail as if in thanks.
When he playfully made as if to touch it himself, she dodged quickly away.
"Then, once the demon musician is dead, they wish for its spirit to go haunt some other place. That's why crossroads near towns are kept so carefully free of stones with holes in the road quickly filled. If someone were to stumble there, it's said the buried demon could come back to life."
"Hmph. Humans believe all sorts of things," muttered Holo, seeming genuinely impressed, then turned her attention back to her book.
"Do wolves have no superstitions?"
***
Holo was suddenly serious, making Lawrence wonder if he had accidentally stepped on her tail, but she seemed to be simply thinking. After a time, she looked over at him.
"Now that you mention it, I've realized—we don't."
"Well, it's nice you've nothing that stops children from being able to pee at night."
Holo looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
"Just so you know, I'm not talking about me," Lawrence added.
"Heh." Holo smiled, her tail wagging.
| He then casually placed his hand on her head.
He was sure his hand would be swatted away, but Holo let it stay there, her ears moving slightly. Through his hand, Lawrence could feel the warmth of her body, just a fraction taller than a child's.
The room was so quiet as to be sad. This time was precious.
Then, as if she was finally prepared, Holo abruptly spoke.
"You never asked me if her words were true."
She had to be talking about Eve.
Lawrence removed his hand from Holo, his only reply a nod.
Holo did not so much as look at him. His gesture was all she needed.
"As though if you had, I would've teased you, looked down on you, made fun of you. Then I would've told you, and you'd owe me."
"It was a close shave, indeed," said Lawrence.
Holo smiled happily.
She let her head drop to the bed, then looked over at him.
"I understand why it is that you're trying to determine everything for yourself. Selling me is making you feel a strange sense of responsibility, isn't it? But I also know that people aren't that strong. If they have a way of knowing for certain what the truth is, they'll want to use it. And yet you don't—why?"
Lawrence wanted to know what Holo's intention was in asking this, but as clumsy attempts to get this out of her would only end badly, he answered honestly.
"If I forget the distinction there, you'll be the one that gets angry."
"...You're so honest. Why don't you try relying on me a bit more?"
Once he started wholly relying on her, the threshold for doing so would certainly drop.
People could become accustomed to anything. It took the self-awareness of a saint not to forget that.
"I'm not so clever," said Lawrence.
"You can get used to anything with practice." The hair that Lawrence had put in order swished quietly as it spilled out again. "Would you like to practice?"
"Practice relying on you?" Lawrence retorted playfully. Holo's gently waving tail gradually stopped moving.
She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. Her smile was gentle, as though she would forgive any mistake.
Her face said that she would accept any way Lawrence could think of to rely on her.
If she was doing this to tease him, then it was a cruel joke indeed.
Who would fault him for being caught by something like this?
Thus Lawrence's mind became still colder.
He went so far as to consider if this actually showed how irritated she was and if this was all a trap to try and get him to smile.
It seemed Holo's main goal was to enjoy watching him like this.
Eventually he grinned, a touch maliciously.
"Are you telling me not to set such a nasty trap? I'm not angry," said Holo.
"If you are, you are."
"Well then, this time 'tis no trap. Practice relying on me as much as you like."
"...That's just what you'd say, isn't it?"
Lawrence shrugged as Holo snickered, then lay her head down on her arms once she was done laughing.
"Being read by you—I'm a disgrace as a wisewolf."
"Even I learn eventually."
Holo neither laughed nor looked frustrated, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her face as she pointed to the corner of the bed.
"Sit," she seemed to say. "Ah, but you're just as softhearted as you ever were."
Lawrence sat on the corner of the bed as Holo sat up and continued.
"Even if I lure you into a trap and laugh my fill, and you become angry, you'll still not exhaust your patience with me."
Lawrence smiled. "Well, I don't know about that." So you'd best mind yourself in the future, he was going to add but thought better of it, because when he expected Holo to smile her invincible smile and come back with her usual wit, she instead seemed sad.
"No, you will not. I know it," she murmured, before doing something completely unexpected.
She sat up and inched over to Lawrence's side, then sat herself sideways on his lap. Having accomplished that, she wrapped her arms around him without any hesitation.
Her face pressed against his left shoulder.
He couldn't see her expression.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He then casually placed his hand on her head.
He was sure his hand would be swatted away, but Holo let it stay there, her ears moving slightly. Through his hand, Lawrence could feel the warmth of her body, just a fraction taller than a child's.
The room was so quiet as to be sad. This time was precious.
Then, as if she was finally prepared, Holo abruptly spoke.
"You never asked me if her words were true."
She had to be talking about Eve.
Lawrence removed his hand from Holo, his only reply a nod.
Holo did not so much as look at him. His gesture was all she needed.
"As though if you had, I would've teased you, looked down on you, made fun of you. Then I would've told you, and you'd owe me."
"It was a close shave, indeed," said Lawrence.
Holo smiled happily.
She let her head drop to the bed, then looked over at him.
"I understand why it is that you're trying to determine everything for yourself. Selling me is making you feel a strange sense of responsibility, isn't it? But I also know that people aren't that strong. If they have a way of knowing for certain what the truth is, they'll want to use it. And yet you don't—why?"
Lawrence wanted to know what Holo's intention was in asking this, but as clumsy attempts to get this out of her would only end badly, he answered honestly.
"If I forget the distinction there, you'll be the one that gets angry."
"...You're so honest. Why don't you try relying on me a bit more?"
Once he started wholly relying on her, the threshold for doing so would certainly drop.
People could become accustomed to anything. It took the self-awareness of a saint not to forget that.
"I'm not so clever," said Lawrence.
"You can get used to anything with practice." The hair that Lawrence had put in order swished quietly as it spilled out again. "Would you like to practice?"
"Practice relying on you?" Lawrence retorted playfully. Holo's gently waving tail gradually stopped moving.
She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. Her smile was gentle, as though she would forgive any mistake.
Her face said that she would accept any way Lawrence could think of to rely on her.
If she was doing this to tease him, then it was a cruel joke indeed.
Who would fault him for being caught by something like this?
Thus Lawrence's mind became still colder.
He went so far as to consider if this actually showed how irritated she was and if this was all a trap to try and get him to smile.
It seemed Holo's main goal was to enjoy watching him like this.
Eventually he grinned, a touch maliciously.
"Are you telling me not to set such a nasty trap? I'm not angry," said Holo.
"If you are, you are."
"Well then, this time 'tis no trap. Practice relying on me as much as you like."
"...That's just what you'd say, isn't it?"
Lawrence shrugged as Holo snickered, then lay her head down on her arms once she was done laughing.
"Being read by you—I'm a disgrace as a wisewolf."
"Even I learn eventually."
Holo neither laughed nor looked frustrated, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her face as she pointed to the corner of the bed.
"Sit," she seemed to say. "Ah, but you're just as softhearted as you ever were."
Lawrence sat on the corner of the bed as Holo sat up and continued.
"Even if I lure you into a trap and laugh my fill, and you become angry, you'll still not exhaust your patience with me."
Lawrence smiled. "Well, I don't know about that." So you'd best mind yourself in the future, he was going to add but thought better of it, because when he expected Holo to smile her invincible smile and come back with her usual wit, she instead seemed sad.
"No, you will not. I know it," she murmured, before doing something completely unexpected.
She sat up and inched over to Lawrence's side, then sat herself sideways on his lap. Having accomplished that, she wrapped her arms around him without any hesitation.
Her face pressed against his left shoulder.
He couldn't see her expression.
| "'Tis a truth that people change over time. Even a little while ago, you'd be frozen in fright if I were to do this kind of thing."
No matter what Holo was trying to feign, her ears and tail never lied.
Between the sound of her tail and the way it felt as it brushed against his left hand, Lawrence could tell that it was waving uncertainly.
He grabbed hold of it lightly.
That instant, Holo flinched and stiffened. He let go immediately.
Before he could apologize, her head roughly bumped into the side of his. "No careless touching!"
From time to time, Holo would claim that she would let him touch her tail as some sort of reward, but this seemed to be a weak point of hers.
Ascertaining that had not been Lawrence's goal nor was he motivated by simple mischief.
He didn't know the cause, but inasmuch as Holo did not seem to be completely dispirited, he felt slightly relieved.
"Fool," she added, sighing.
Silence descended.
The intermittent sound of Holo's swishing tail mingled with the quiet crackling sound of the tallow lamp's wick.
Just as Lawrence was wondering if he should say something, Holo spoke.
"I truly am a failure as a wisewolf, having you fret over me so."
She must have sensed that he was about to speak.
Her words seemed to Lawrence like simple bravado, but perhaps that was just his imagination.
"Honestly, me relying on you is another story entirely. We were speaking of you relying upon me!"
She lifted her head from his shoulder and straightened, her eyes now slightly higher than Lawrence's.
Those red-brown eyes looked down at him, and her lip twisted in irritation. "When will you get flustered for me?"
"I might if you would tell me what you're truly thinking about."
Immediately Holo drew away, her face contorted as though she had tasted something bitter.
Yet when Lawrence failed to seem concerned, she soon seemed sad. "Come, now—," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I want you flustered."
"Fine then," answered Lawrence, and Holo once again leaned against his chest, completely still.
"Can we not end our travels here?" she murmured.
If Lawrence had wanted to explain to someone else the surprise he felt at that moment, they would have to have seen him.
He was so surprised; that was the only thing that occurred to him.
But then what he felt was anger.
This was the one joke he never wanted to hear.
"Do you think I jest?"
"I do," replied Lawrence instantly but not because he was composed.
It was quite the opposite. He grabbed Holo's shoulders and held her at arm's length, facing her.
She smiled but not in a way that Lawrence could be angry at.
"You really are quite charming."
Lawrence muttered under his breath that she could only say such things if she tickled his chin and smiled her devilish smile as she did so.
"I am quite serious. If I were to say such a thing in jest, you would become truly angry." Lawrence still held her shoulders; she covered his hands with hers and continued. "But you'll forgive me, because you're kind."
Holo's fingers were slender, and her nails, while not properly sharp, were a lovely shape.
And when they bore down on the back of his hands, they hurt.
But even scratched so, Lawrence did not remove his hands from her shoulders. "My contract with you...it was to escort you to your homeland."
"We are nearly there."
"So why here, now—"
"People change. Situations change. And my mood also changes."
After Holo spoke, she smiled a regretful smile, and Lawrence knew she was ruing her own pitiful visage.
For just a moment, he felt terror.
Was this something she would decide simply on a whim?
Holo giggled. "It seems there are fields yet untilled. But this is no place to be treading with one's boots on."
It was too late for her to be teasing Lawrence and enjoying his visibly flustered mien, but as he grew more and more resistant to her joking, her methods became more extreme in order to compensate.
But just as Holo had said, this was one place he didn't want her to play.
"Why this, all of a sudden?" he asked.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "'Tis a truth that people change over time. Even a little while ago, you'd be frozen in fright if I were to do this kind of thing."
No matter what Holo was trying to feign, her ears and tail never lied.
Between the sound of her tail and the way it felt as it brushed against his left hand, Lawrence could tell that it was waving uncertainly.
He grabbed hold of it lightly.
That instant, Holo flinched and stiffened. He let go immediately.
Before he could apologize, her head roughly bumped into the side of his. "No careless touching!"
From time to time, Holo would claim that she would let him touch her tail as some sort of reward, but this seemed to be a weak point of hers.
Ascertaining that had not been Lawrence's goal nor was he motivated by simple mischief.
He didn't know the cause, but inasmuch as Holo did not seem to be completely dispirited, he felt slightly relieved.
"Fool," she added, sighing.
Silence descended.
The intermittent sound of Holo's swishing tail mingled with the quiet crackling sound of the tallow lamp's wick.
Just as Lawrence was wondering if he should say something, Holo spoke.
"I truly am a failure as a wisewolf, having you fret over me so."
She must have sensed that he was about to speak.
Her words seemed to Lawrence like simple bravado, but perhaps that was just his imagination.
"Honestly, me relying on you is another story entirely. We were speaking of you relying upon me!"
She lifted her head from his shoulder and straightened, her eyes now slightly higher than Lawrence's.
Those red-brown eyes looked down at him, and her lip twisted in irritation. "When will you get flustered for me?"
"I might if you would tell me what you're truly thinking about."
Immediately Holo drew away, her face contorted as though she had tasted something bitter.
Yet when Lawrence failed to seem concerned, she soon seemed sad. "Come, now—," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I want you flustered."
"Fine then," answered Lawrence, and Holo once again leaned against his chest, completely still.
"Can we not end our travels here?" she murmured.
If Lawrence had wanted to explain to someone else the surprise he felt at that moment, they would have to have seen him.
He was so surprised; that was the only thing that occurred to him.
But then what he felt was anger.
This was the one joke he never wanted to hear.
"Do you think I jest?"
"I do," replied Lawrence instantly but not because he was composed.
It was quite the opposite. He grabbed Holo's shoulders and held her at arm's length, facing her.
She smiled but not in a way that Lawrence could be angry at.
"You really are quite charming."
Lawrence muttered under his breath that she could only say such things if she tickled his chin and smiled her devilish smile as she did so.
"I am quite serious. If I were to say such a thing in jest, you would become truly angry." Lawrence still held her shoulders; she covered his hands with hers and continued. "But you'll forgive me, because you're kind."
Holo's fingers were slender, and her nails, while not properly sharp, were a lovely shape.
And when they bore down on the back of his hands, they hurt.
But even scratched so, Lawrence did not remove his hands from her shoulders. "My contract with you...it was to escort you to your homeland."
"We are nearly there."
"So why here, now—"
"People change. Situations change. And my mood also changes."
After Holo spoke, she smiled a regretful smile, and Lawrence knew she was ruing her own pitiful visage.
For just a moment, he felt terror.
Was this something she would decide simply on a whim?
Holo giggled. "It seems there are fields yet untilled. But this is no place to be treading with one's boots on."
It was too late for her to be teasing Lawrence and enjoying his visibly flustered mien, but as he grew more and more resistant to her joking, her methods became more extreme in order to compensate.
But just as Holo had said, this was one place he didn't want her to play.
"Why this, all of a sudden?" he asked.
| "...Eve?"
Holo nodded and removed her fingernails from the backs of Lawrence's hands.
A tiny bit of blood welled up; Holo apologized with her eyes and continued. "Money can buy companionship, but..."
"...But not its quality?"
"Aye, and so she said to treasure your encounters. That mere human girl, thinking herself so great..." Holo put Lawrence's hand to her cheek. "I want our meeting to be something good. And so I think it is best that we part here."
Lawrence did not understand what she was saying.
Back in Tereo, Holo had avoided the question of what she would do upon reaching her homeland.
Lawrence had felt this was because worry hung between them that once they arrived there, their journey together would end.
That much was only natural given the nature of their promise, and when he'd first met Holo, Lawrence had assumed that was what would happen. Surely Holo had felt similarly.
But the journey had been a joy, and he wanted to extend it, if only by a day.
He was driven unavoidably by that childish wish.
And was Holo not the same? At the very least, Lawrence felt he could look back on their travels and be certain of that much.
So how did ending their journey here follow from the idea that relationships needed to be treasured?
When Lawrence looked at her with obvious bewilderment, Holo smiled sadly, still holding his hand to her cheek.
"You fool. Do you still not understand?"
She was neither teasing nor angry. Holo looked at him as she would look at a particularly difficult child, her frustration tinged with affection.
He took his hand from her cheek as she looked up, slowly embracing her once again.
"This journey has been truly wonderful. I've laughed, cried...This cunning old wolf has even screamed in anger from our fights. I had been alone for so long, so these days have been very bright indeed. I've even wished that they would go on forever."
"So just—," Lawrence began to say, but the words stopped in his throat.
It was a conversation he could not have.
After all, Holo was not human. Their life spans were too different.
"You're very clever, but you lack so much experience. Since you're a merchant who toils for profit, I thought you would soon understand, but...I'm not saying this because I don't want to watch you die. I've...already become used to that idea," said Holo smoothly like a winter wind blowing across a brown, withered field.
"If I'd had a bit more self-restraint, I might just have endured until my homeland. I had been confident of that when we put the last village behind us, but...you're simply too softhearted. You accept everything that I do and give me anything I wish for. It's terrible to endure it...just terrible."
Lawrence was not the least bit happy to hear these words from Holo, which sounded like something one would find on the last page of some chivalrous tale.
He still did not understand what Holo was saying, but there was something he did understand.
He knew that at the end of all her words would come these: "So let us part here."
"It is just...too frightening," she said.
Her tail was puffed up to match her rising uncertainty.
She had said the same thing after eating the roast pig—that she was scared.
At the time he had not understood, but given all this, there was only one thing that could frighten her so much.
But Lawrence did not understand why it scared her so.
She wanted him to understand this.
That night, she had said it would be troublesome if he understood, but now that the conversation had come to this point, it was quite clear she had decided that the opposite was true.
Holo was a wisewolf. She did not do pointless things, and she was very rarely wrong.
So this had to be something he could understand from what he had been presented with here.
Lawrence's mind raced.
His keen memory, which was a point of pride for Lawrence as a merchant, worked to recollect everything.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "...Eve?"
Holo nodded and removed her fingernails from the backs of Lawrence's hands.
A tiny bit of blood welled up; Holo apologized with her eyes and continued. "Money can buy companionship, but..."
"...But not its quality?"
"Aye, and so she said to treasure your encounters. That mere human girl, thinking herself so great..." Holo put Lawrence's hand to her cheek. "I want our meeting to be something good. And so I think it is best that we part here."
Lawrence did not understand what she was saying.
Back in Tereo, Holo had avoided the question of what she would do upon reaching her homeland.
Lawrence had felt this was because worry hung between them that once they arrived there, their journey together would end.
That much was only natural given the nature of their promise, and when he'd first met Holo, Lawrence had assumed that was what would happen. Surely Holo had felt similarly.
But the journey had been a joy, and he wanted to extend it, if only by a day.
He was driven unavoidably by that childish wish.
And was Holo not the same? At the very least, Lawrence felt he could look back on their travels and be certain of that much.
So how did ending their journey here follow from the idea that relationships needed to be treasured?
When Lawrence looked at her with obvious bewilderment, Holo smiled sadly, still holding his hand to her cheek.
"You fool. Do you still not understand?"
She was neither teasing nor angry. Holo looked at him as she would look at a particularly difficult child, her frustration tinged with affection.
He took his hand from her cheek as she looked up, slowly embracing her once again.
"This journey has been truly wonderful. I've laughed, cried...This cunning old wolf has even screamed in anger from our fights. I had been alone for so long, so these days have been very bright indeed. I've even wished that they would go on forever."
"So just—," Lawrence began to say, but the words stopped in his throat.
It was a conversation he could not have.
After all, Holo was not human. Their life spans were too different.
"You're very clever, but you lack so much experience. Since you're a merchant who toils for profit, I thought you would soon understand, but...I'm not saying this because I don't want to watch you die. I've...already become used to that idea," said Holo smoothly like a winter wind blowing across a brown, withered field.
"If I'd had a bit more self-restraint, I might just have endured until my homeland. I had been confident of that when we put the last village behind us, but...you're simply too softhearted. You accept everything that I do and give me anything I wish for. It's terrible to endure it...just terrible."
Lawrence was not the least bit happy to hear these words from Holo, which sounded like something one would find on the last page of some chivalrous tale.
He still did not understand what Holo was saying, but there was something he did understand.
He knew that at the end of all her words would come these: "So let us part here."
"It is just...too frightening," she said.
Her tail was puffed up to match her rising uncertainty.
She had said the same thing after eating the roast pig—that she was scared.
At the time he had not understood, but given all this, there was only one thing that could frighten her so much.
But Lawrence did not understand why it scared her so.
She wanted him to understand this.
That night, she had said it would be troublesome if he understood, but now that the conversation had come to this point, it was quite clear she had decided that the opposite was true.
Holo was a wisewolf. She did not do pointless things, and she was very rarely wrong.
So this had to be something he could understand from what he had been presented with here.
Lawrence's mind raced.
His keen memory, which was a point of pride for Lawrence as a merchant, worked to recollect everything.
| None of them seemed to have anything to do with one another, and he didn't have the faintest idea how they connected.
Wasn't the fact that the journey had been bright and joyful reason enough to want it to continue?
Every journey came to its end, but Holo surely wasn't trying to evade that inescapable fact. She should have understood that all along; Lawrence certainly did. He was confident that at the journey's proper end, they would part with smiles.
There had to be some meaning to her wanting to abandon the journey in the middle.
The middle of the journey. This particular opportunity. Because she couldn't hold out until they reached her homeland...
When he got that far, Lawrence began to feel like he was finding the connections.
Joyful. Journey. Timing. Merchant.
He froze, stricken, unable to hide the shock he felt.
"Have you realized?" she asked with a measure of exasperation, removing herself from Lawrence's lap and standing. "In truth, I would have preferred you not to, but if I let it go any longer, I'd lose the best chance. You understand, don't you, what I mean by this?"
Lawrence nodded.
He understood all too well.
No. He had vaguely known all along. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.
Holo drew away from Lawrence without betraying much reluctance, then stood from the bed.
Watched by those red-brown eyes of Holo's, he murmured, "Even you haven't seen such a tale?"
"Tale? Whatever do you mean...? Oh, I see. You're quite clever with your words."
Broadly speaking, there were two types of tales in the world. Some tales had happy endings while others had unhappy endings.
In truth, there were really four types, but the remaining two were too difficult for humans to create, and humans were too imperfect to understand them.
If there were any who could create and read those tales, that would be a god, and it was that which the Church promised after death.
"Stories where they live happily ever after," said Lawrence.
Holo walked wordlessly over to the corner of the room, picking up the pitcher of wine that sat there next to their things. When she looked back, she smiled. "There is no such thing. Of course, I enjoy speaking with you. I enjoy it too much—so much I just want to eat you up."
If Lawrence had heard her say this when they'd first met, if he had looked into her narrowed, red-tinged eyes then, there was no doubt he would have been afraid.
And yet now he felt no particular worry.
Holo wanted to return to the way they were when they had first met. That fact pierced his heart.
"But no matter how delicious the treat, one cannot go on eating the same thing forever, can they? It becomes tiresome, does it not? And worst of all, as I enjoy it more and more, I'll begin to need more and more stimulation, and then what? You know, don't you, what lies at the top of those stairs?"
Once Lawrence had trembled to hold her hand, but now Holo could embrace him without incident, and he kissed her hand as easily as one could please.
When he counted the things beyond that, Lawrence understood something that terrified him.
In the face of the long time that stretched ahead of them, there was not much they could do.
They could change hands and change goods, but the end would come before they knew it.
They could continue to climb the stairs.
But there was no guarantee those stairs would always exist.
"Eventually I will not be able to get what I crave, and all the talk that was once such a delight will fade, its joy remaining only in memory. And it's then that I will think back to how much fun it was when we first met."
Her unkind look seemed deliberate.
"That is why I was frightened. Frightened of the way it sped the erosion of this delight. The way your"—Holo took a drink of wine from the pitcher—"kindness did," she finished as though accusing herself.
Holo the Wisewolf.
A wolf who had lived for centuries, who had ensured the wheat harvest, and who feared loneliness above all else.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | None of them seemed to have anything to do with one another, and he didn't have the faintest idea how they connected.
Wasn't the fact that the journey had been bright and joyful reason enough to want it to continue?
Every journey came to its end, but Holo surely wasn't trying to evade that inescapable fact. She should have understood that all along; Lawrence certainly did. He was confident that at the journey's proper end, they would part with smiles.
There had to be some meaning to her wanting to abandon the journey in the middle.
The middle of the journey. This particular opportunity. Because she couldn't hold out until they reached her homeland...
When he got that far, Lawrence began to feel like he was finding the connections.
Joyful. Journey. Timing. Merchant.
He froze, stricken, unable to hide the shock he felt.
"Have you realized?" she asked with a measure of exasperation, removing herself from Lawrence's lap and standing. "In truth, I would have preferred you not to, but if I let it go any longer, I'd lose the best chance. You understand, don't you, what I mean by this?"
Lawrence nodded.
He understood all too well.
No. He had vaguely known all along. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.
Holo drew away from Lawrence without betraying much reluctance, then stood from the bed.
Watched by those red-brown eyes of Holo's, he murmured, "Even you haven't seen such a tale?"
"Tale? Whatever do you mean...? Oh, I see. You're quite clever with your words."
Broadly speaking, there were two types of tales in the world. Some tales had happy endings while others had unhappy endings.
In truth, there were really four types, but the remaining two were too difficult for humans to create, and humans were too imperfect to understand them.
If there were any who could create and read those tales, that would be a god, and it was that which the Church promised after death.
"Stories where they live happily ever after," said Lawrence.
Holo walked wordlessly over to the corner of the room, picking up the pitcher of wine that sat there next to their things. When she looked back, she smiled. "There is no such thing. Of course, I enjoy speaking with you. I enjoy it too much—so much I just want to eat you up."
If Lawrence had heard her say this when they'd first met, if he had looked into her narrowed, red-tinged eyes then, there was no doubt he would have been afraid.
And yet now he felt no particular worry.
Holo wanted to return to the way they were when they had first met. That fact pierced his heart.
"But no matter how delicious the treat, one cannot go on eating the same thing forever, can they? It becomes tiresome, does it not? And worst of all, as I enjoy it more and more, I'll begin to need more and more stimulation, and then what? You know, don't you, what lies at the top of those stairs?"
Once Lawrence had trembled to hold her hand, but now Holo could embrace him without incident, and he kissed her hand as easily as one could please.
When he counted the things beyond that, Lawrence understood something that terrified him.
In the face of the long time that stretched ahead of them, there was not much they could do.
They could change hands and change goods, but the end would come before they knew it.
They could continue to climb the stairs.
But there was no guarantee those stairs would always exist.
"Eventually I will not be able to get what I crave, and all the talk that was once such a delight will fade, its joy remaining only in memory. And it's then that I will think back to how much fun it was when we first met."
Her unkind look seemed deliberate.
"That is why I was frightened. Frightened of the way it sped the erosion of this delight. The way your"—Holo took a drink of wine from the pitcher—"kindness did," she finished as though accusing herself.
Holo the Wisewolf.
A wolf who had lived for centuries, who had ensured the wheat harvest, and who feared loneliness above all else.
| Of course, because she lived for such a long time, the number of creatures who lived as long as she did was very low, which made her particularly susceptible to loneliness.
But here and now, Lawrence finally understood the answer, the reason why despite living as long as she did, Holo did not seek out similar creatures to her—no, couldn't.
Holo had said that she was not a god.
And this was the true reason.
God, it was said, had created a heavenly kingdom where neither old age nor sickness existed, where bliss was eternal.
But Holo could do no such thing.
Just like a human, she could only become accustomed to something, then tire of it, passing the dim night thinking, Ah, it was such fun at first.
She could not stay happy forever.
And this wisewolf, having lived as long as she had, knew all too well that her simple, girlish wish could never come true.
"I've long been impressed at how clever you humans are to have the saying, 'All's well that ends well.' Though I might think to myself, 'Oh aye, it's quite so,' I still find myself unable to summon the resolve to end something that gives me pleasure. I don't know what would happen if you came with me all the way to my homeland. That's why I wish to end our travels here, so that it can be a delight from start to finish."
Lawrence had no words. He took the pitcher when Holo walked over to him and offered it.
There was nothing positive in her words, yet somehow he heard a note of resolve in her voice, perhaps because she was close to turning defiant.
"Are you not close to achieving your dream? Is this not the perfect time to bring this chapter of your story to a close?"
"I...suppose so," said Lawrence. It was why he hadn't interrupted her.
"Also, I was thinking of telling you later and surprising you." Holo suppressed a giggle, sitting down next to Lawrence as though the entire conversation had never happened. She twisted around and picked up the book that lay at the bedside. "I was in the book," she said with a strangely rueful smile, which was surely because of Lawrence's surprise upon hearing those words.
Even though he had not betrayed the slightest emotion when she spoke of his dream being near.
"There were all sorts of things in the past, things I'd forgotten about entirely until seeing them," said Holo, flipping through the pages, then turning the book toward Lawrence.
As if to say, "Read."
Lawrence traded the book for the pitcher, dropping his eyes to the page.
The tales, written in a precise, ceremonious hand, were of a time when people still lived in ignorance and darkness.
The name of the Church was nothing more than a mere rumor from a far-off land.
And there, just as the chronicler Diana in the pagan town of Kumersun had said, was Holo's name.
"'Wheaten tail,' they say. Such complicated words," said Holo.
Lawrence felt as though the phrase was not far off the mark but said nothing.
"Looks like you've been a heavy drinker since ancient times," he said, resigned, as he read the relevant section, and far from injuring her mood, Holo puffed out her chest and sniffed proudly.
"I remember it vividly even now. There was a rival drinker, a girl a bit younger than you, and we weren't so much drunk as we were unable to fit any more liquor in. And in the end, it was even more heroic, you see—"
"No thanks. I don't want to hear any more," said Lawrence, waving her off. He didn't even have to think about this in order to know how she had put an end to the contest.
And yet, while there was indeed a tale of a drinking contest, it seemed more like a heroic saga of Holo and the girl she had drunk against than anything else.
Perhaps that wasn't surprising.
Holo giggled. "Ah, but that's nostalgic. And I'd forgotten it entirely until reading it."
"Drinking, eating, singing, dancing. I'm sure it's been rewritten any number of times, but the fun atmosphere still comes through. Surely most of the old legends were comedies."
"Aye. 'Twas a delight. Come now, stand up."
***
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Of course, because she lived for such a long time, the number of creatures who lived as long as she did was very low, which made her particularly susceptible to loneliness.
But here and now, Lawrence finally understood the answer, the reason why despite living as long as she did, Holo did not seek out similar creatures to her—no, couldn't.
Holo had said that she was not a god.
And this was the true reason.
God, it was said, had created a heavenly kingdom where neither old age nor sickness existed, where bliss was eternal.
But Holo could do no such thing.
Just like a human, she could only become accustomed to something, then tire of it, passing the dim night thinking, Ah, it was such fun at first.
She could not stay happy forever.
And this wisewolf, having lived as long as she had, knew all too well that her simple, girlish wish could never come true.
"I've long been impressed at how clever you humans are to have the saying, 'All's well that ends well.' Though I might think to myself, 'Oh aye, it's quite so,' I still find myself unable to summon the resolve to end something that gives me pleasure. I don't know what would happen if you came with me all the way to my homeland. That's why I wish to end our travels here, so that it can be a delight from start to finish."
Lawrence had no words. He took the pitcher when Holo walked over to him and offered it.
There was nothing positive in her words, yet somehow he heard a note of resolve in her voice, perhaps because she was close to turning defiant.
"Are you not close to achieving your dream? Is this not the perfect time to bring this chapter of your story to a close?"
"I...suppose so," said Lawrence. It was why he hadn't interrupted her.
"Also, I was thinking of telling you later and surprising you." Holo suppressed a giggle, sitting down next to Lawrence as though the entire conversation had never happened. She twisted around and picked up the book that lay at the bedside. "I was in the book," she said with a strangely rueful smile, which was surely because of Lawrence's surprise upon hearing those words.
Even though he had not betrayed the slightest emotion when she spoke of his dream being near.
"There were all sorts of things in the past, things I'd forgotten about entirely until seeing them," said Holo, flipping through the pages, then turning the book toward Lawrence.
As if to say, "Read."
Lawrence traded the book for the pitcher, dropping his eyes to the page.
The tales, written in a precise, ceremonious hand, were of a time when people still lived in ignorance and darkness.
The name of the Church was nothing more than a mere rumor from a far-off land.
And there, just as the chronicler Diana in the pagan town of Kumersun had said, was Holo's name.
"'Wheaten tail,' they say. Such complicated words," said Holo.
Lawrence felt as though the phrase was not far off the mark but said nothing.
"Looks like you've been a heavy drinker since ancient times," he said, resigned, as he read the relevant section, and far from injuring her mood, Holo puffed out her chest and sniffed proudly.
"I remember it vividly even now. There was a rival drinker, a girl a bit younger than you, and we weren't so much drunk as we were unable to fit any more liquor in. And in the end, it was even more heroic, you see—"
"No thanks. I don't want to hear any more," said Lawrence, waving her off. He didn't even have to think about this in order to know how she had put an end to the contest.
And yet, while there was indeed a tale of a drinking contest, it seemed more like a heroic saga of Holo and the girl she had drunk against than anything else.
Perhaps that wasn't surprising.
Holo giggled. "Ah, but that's nostalgic. And I'd forgotten it entirely until reading it."
"Drinking, eating, singing, dancing. I'm sure it's been rewritten any number of times, but the fun atmosphere still comes through. Surely most of the old legends were comedies."
"Aye. 'Twas a delight. Come now, stand up."
***
| He then set the book down as Holo directed him to.
Just as he wondered what she was doing, Holo strode toward him and took his hand.
"Right, right, left, left, left, right—you see, do you not?"
He didn't even have to think about this.
It was the ancient dance that Holo had danced in the story.
But when he stood near her, Lawrence understood.
It was obvious what lay beneath her bright exterior.
Holo said that she wanted to stop traveling because it was too much fun.
"This dance is bad if you're drinking, though. Your eyes will start to swim before you know it," she said, looking up at Lawrence and smiling, then dropping her gaze to the floor. "So it's right, right, left and left, left, right—got it? Right, here we go!"
Lawrence had never danced a proper dance before, although Holo had forced him out into the streets on Kumersun's festival night where he had danced all night.
With that much practice, anyone would be halfway decent.
When Holo cried out "There!" and put her foot out, Lawrence matched her and did likewise.
Norah the shepherdess had done the shepherd's dance to prove her identity. Dances were everywhere. There were countless dances, but they all resembled one another.
Lawrence matched his steps to hers on the first go, which visibly surprised Holo.
"Hmph."
She had probably looked forward to making fun of his clumsiness, thinking it would not go so easily.
Step, step, step...They moved their bodies lightly and easily, and soon it was Lawrence who was leading Holo, her feet being more prone to getting tangled. Once a person understood that this sort of thing was more about confidence than technique, all one needed was audacity.
But Holo's surprise only dulled her movements for a moment.
Soon she was gliding smoothly, occasionally becoming slightly confused in an obviously deliberate manner. Lawrence wondered if she was trying to make him step on her feet.
He would not fall for it, of course.
"Hnn—hmph."
They looked like two puppets whose strings were being controlled in unison. That was how closely their movements matched.
Right, right, left, left, left, right—the movements were simple, but they continued through the steps of the dance there in the small room without stopping once.
It was only when Holo surprisingly stepped on Lawrence's foot that the dance came to an end.
"Whoops—" was all Lawrence had time to say before they fortunately wound up together on the bed.
Their hands remained clasped together.
Lawrence unpleasantly suspected Holo of doing this on purpose, but she looked stunned, as though she had no idea of what had just happened.
At length, she returned to herself and met Lawrence's eyes.
"...What are we doing here?"
"I suspect it would be better not to ask."
Holo ducked her head ticklishly and showed her canines.
She seemed genuinely happy.
Perhaps that is how she found the ability to continue.
"The direction to my homeland was also written."
Lawrence remembered the contents of the book, a smile lingering on his face from their foolish exchange, and nodded.
In the book, it was written that Holoh of the Wheat Tail came from the mountains of Roef, twenty days' journey on foot in the direction of sleep and birth.
North was sleep, and east was birth. Giving meanings to directions like this was not uncommon.
And the most decisive part of the tale was the reference to the mountains of Roef.
Lawrence knew the name.
It was the name of a tributary of the Roam River, which itself flowed past Lenos.
There was very little doubt that within the mountains of Roef were the headwaters of the Roef River. With this much information, Holo could easily find her way home, even on her own.
And Lawrence doubted his expectations were wrong.
His only mistake had been loading that wheat into his wagon bed that day in Pasloe.
"So, have you read them all?" Lawrence asked quickly, lest the silence expose their lies for what they were.
As Lawrence and Holo began to sit up, their joined hands separated.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He then set the book down as Holo directed him to.
Just as he wondered what she was doing, Holo strode toward him and took his hand.
"Right, right, left, left, left, right—you see, do you not?"
He didn't even have to think about this.
It was the ancient dance that Holo had danced in the story.
But when he stood near her, Lawrence understood.
It was obvious what lay beneath her bright exterior.
Holo said that she wanted to stop traveling because it was too much fun.
"This dance is bad if you're drinking, though. Your eyes will start to swim before you know it," she said, looking up at Lawrence and smiling, then dropping her gaze to the floor. "So it's right, right, left and left, left, right—got it? Right, here we go!"
Lawrence had never danced a proper dance before, although Holo had forced him out into the streets on Kumersun's festival night where he had danced all night.
With that much practice, anyone would be halfway decent.
When Holo cried out "There!" and put her foot out, Lawrence matched her and did likewise.
Norah the shepherdess had done the shepherd's dance to prove her identity. Dances were everywhere. There were countless dances, but they all resembled one another.
Lawrence matched his steps to hers on the first go, which visibly surprised Holo.
"Hmph."
She had probably looked forward to making fun of his clumsiness, thinking it would not go so easily.
Step, step, step...They moved their bodies lightly and easily, and soon it was Lawrence who was leading Holo, her feet being more prone to getting tangled. Once a person understood that this sort of thing was more about confidence than technique, all one needed was audacity.
But Holo's surprise only dulled her movements for a moment.
Soon she was gliding smoothly, occasionally becoming slightly confused in an obviously deliberate manner. Lawrence wondered if she was trying to make him step on her feet.
He would not fall for it, of course.
"Hnn—hmph."
They looked like two puppets whose strings were being controlled in unison. That was how closely their movements matched.
Right, right, left, left, left, right—the movements were simple, but they continued through the steps of the dance there in the small room without stopping once.
It was only when Holo surprisingly stepped on Lawrence's foot that the dance came to an end.
"Whoops—" was all Lawrence had time to say before they fortunately wound up together on the bed.
Their hands remained clasped together.
Lawrence unpleasantly suspected Holo of doing this on purpose, but she looked stunned, as though she had no idea of what had just happened.
At length, she returned to herself and met Lawrence's eyes.
"...What are we doing here?"
"I suspect it would be better not to ask."
Holo ducked her head ticklishly and showed her canines.
She seemed genuinely happy.
Perhaps that is how she found the ability to continue.
"The direction to my homeland was also written."
Lawrence remembered the contents of the book, a smile lingering on his face from their foolish exchange, and nodded.
In the book, it was written that Holoh of the Wheat Tail came from the mountains of Roef, twenty days' journey on foot in the direction of sleep and birth.
North was sleep, and east was birth. Giving meanings to directions like this was not uncommon.
And the most decisive part of the tale was the reference to the mountains of Roef.
Lawrence knew the name.
It was the name of a tributary of the Roam River, which itself flowed past Lenos.
There was very little doubt that within the mountains of Roef were the headwaters of the Roef River. With this much information, Holo could easily find her way home, even on her own.
And Lawrence doubted his expectations were wrong.
His only mistake had been loading that wheat into his wagon bed that day in Pasloe.
"So, have you read them all?" Lawrence asked quickly, lest the silence expose their lies for what they were.
As Lawrence and Holo began to sit up, their joined hands separated.
| "A friend of yours, then?"
"Maybe." Holo laughed at the banter. "Still," she said, righting herself, "we ought to return the books before we spill wine on them. It's not as though we need to copy them, and most of it was already in my head to begin with."
"Indeed. And there's no guarantee you won't fall asleep on them and get drool all over the pages."
"I do not do such things."
"I know. Just like you don't snore," said Lawrence with a smile, standing up from the bed—pretending as though if he didn't, he was liable to be bitten.
"Would you like me to tell you just what things you talk about in your sleep?" Holo asked, eyes half-lidded.
Lawrence's heart skipped a beat at her words.
It was all he could do to keep the sadness he felt at this exchange from showing on his face.
"I expect it goes something like this: 'I beg you, please, don't eat any more!'"
There were also frequent dreams where he was able to eat as much delicious food as he wanted.
Yet since meeting Holo, he had seen his nightmare of having to foot the bill for someone eating like that come true many a time.
"You're making fully enough to pay for it," retorted Holo, climbing off the bed opposite Lawrence.
As if they were pretending to quarrel.
"Sure, in hindsight. If we hadn't made money in Kumersun, you would literally be devouring all my assets."
"Hmph. Doesn't the saying go, 'If you've eaten poison, you may as well eat the whole dish?' If it came to that, I'd just gobble you up, too." Holo licked her lips theatrically, looking at Lawrence with hunger in her eyes.
He had known this was an act for ages.
But something different lay behind that look that he now understood painfully well.
Somewhere along the line, their bond had been broken. It was very sad, but not so sad that he couldn't bear it.
What was saddest was that it was because of a mean-spirited god.
"I'll just bet. So, once we've returned the book, what do you want to eat?" queried Lawrence.
Holo's tail swished as she smiled unpleasantly. "We'll decide that once we're there."
Their conversations, at least, were as fun as they always had been.
***
The next day Holo and Lawrence left the inn shortly past noon, telling Arold that they were going to Rigolo's house but would return.
It seemed unlikely that during the short time they would be out, the council's decision would be made public, but there was always a chance. Arold nodded silently, never taking his eyes off the charcoal fire.
They ventured out into the town, again walking down its cramped, narrow streets.
Unlike the previous time, puddles were in short supply—as was conversation.
Holo asked him over and over again about details of the deal she had long since understood, just to show she was being thoughtful.
"Seems all is going well, then," she finally said.
One of the spots where Lawrence had so gallantly lent Holo his hand to help her cross was gone. In its place was a hole, perhaps dug by some mischievous youngster, and although the water level was lower, it was still a puddle.
Thus, it was the only opportunity Lawrence had to once again extend his hand, which Holo accepted before crossing the hole.
"Yes, all's well. A little too well," he said.
"You've been burned many times in the past," said Holo, eliciting a smile from Lawrence.
His fear was mostly because of the size of the profit that awaited him on the other side of the deal.
He didn't think Eve was laying a trap for him, and in any case, luring someone into a clever setup was not such a simple thing to do.
They were borrowing money, buying up goods, and selling them at a profit—that was all.
As long as their trading succeeded, there was naught to worry about.
If she were trying to strong-arm him into some kind of trap, like forcibly stealing the goods from him midway, she wouldn't have suggested a ship for transport.
The river was a more important trade route than the road, and many vessels plied it.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "A friend of yours, then?"
"Maybe." Holo laughed at the banter. "Still," she said, righting herself, "we ought to return the books before we spill wine on them. It's not as though we need to copy them, and most of it was already in my head to begin with."
"Indeed. And there's no guarantee you won't fall asleep on them and get drool all over the pages."
"I do not do such things."
"I know. Just like you don't snore," said Lawrence with a smile, standing up from the bed—pretending as though if he didn't, he was liable to be bitten.
"Would you like me to tell you just what things you talk about in your sleep?" Holo asked, eyes half-lidded.
Lawrence's heart skipped a beat at her words.
It was all he could do to keep the sadness he felt at this exchange from showing on his face.
"I expect it goes something like this: 'I beg you, please, don't eat any more!'"
There were also frequent dreams where he was able to eat as much delicious food as he wanted.
Yet since meeting Holo, he had seen his nightmare of having to foot the bill for someone eating like that come true many a time.
"You're making fully enough to pay for it," retorted Holo, climbing off the bed opposite Lawrence.
As if they were pretending to quarrel.
"Sure, in hindsight. If we hadn't made money in Kumersun, you would literally be devouring all my assets."
"Hmph. Doesn't the saying go, 'If you've eaten poison, you may as well eat the whole dish?' If it came to that, I'd just gobble you up, too." Holo licked her lips theatrically, looking at Lawrence with hunger in her eyes.
He had known this was an act for ages.
But something different lay behind that look that he now understood painfully well.
Somewhere along the line, their bond had been broken. It was very sad, but not so sad that he couldn't bear it.
What was saddest was that it was because of a mean-spirited god.
"I'll just bet. So, once we've returned the book, what do you want to eat?" queried Lawrence.
Holo's tail swished as she smiled unpleasantly. "We'll decide that once we're there."
Their conversations, at least, were as fun as they always had been.
***
The next day Holo and Lawrence left the inn shortly past noon, telling Arold that they were going to Rigolo's house but would return.
It seemed unlikely that during the short time they would be out, the council's decision would be made public, but there was always a chance. Arold nodded silently, never taking his eyes off the charcoal fire.
They ventured out into the town, again walking down its cramped, narrow streets.
Unlike the previous time, puddles were in short supply—as was conversation.
Holo asked him over and over again about details of the deal she had long since understood, just to show she was being thoughtful.
"Seems all is going well, then," she finally said.
One of the spots where Lawrence had so gallantly lent Holo his hand to help her cross was gone. In its place was a hole, perhaps dug by some mischievous youngster, and although the water level was lower, it was still a puddle.
Thus, it was the only opportunity Lawrence had to once again extend his hand, which Holo accepted before crossing the hole.
"Yes, all's well. A little too well," he said.
"You've been burned many times in the past," said Holo, eliciting a smile from Lawrence.
His fear was mostly because of the size of the profit that awaited him on the other side of the deal.
He didn't think Eve was laying a trap for him, and in any case, luring someone into a clever setup was not such a simple thing to do.
They were borrowing money, buying up goods, and selling them at a profit—that was all.
As long as their trading succeeded, there was naught to worry about.
If she were trying to strong-arm him into some kind of trap, like forcibly stealing the goods from him midway, she wouldn't have suggested a ship for transport.
The river was a more important trade route than the road, and many vessels plied it.
| There really seemed to be no problems.
"How many thousands did my body fetch, I wonder?"
"Mm, about two thousand."
More properly, this was the amount fetched by Eve's house name, not Holo's body.
"Oh ho. How much wine would that buy?"
"An unbelievable amount of the finest quality."
"And you're going to take that money and profit with it, yes?"
Holo was demanding her cut, and Lawrence had every intention of giving it to her.
"If all goes well, I'll treat you to as much drink as you like."
Holo giggled. "Then I'll have...," she began but then hastily closed her mouth.
After a moment of confusion, Lawrence realized what she was going to say.
Then I'll have enough to stay drunk my whole life.
But that was an impossible dream.
"Then I'll have...enough so that I start vomiting even before I'm drunk," said Holo the Wisewolf.
Lawrence the traveling merchant could hardly fail to retort, "What? You lost the drinking game?"
"Yes...Still, that's quite natural. Think about it, will you? My opponent was not as beautiful as I, but she still had looks enough—and poured such wine into her guts as made her face turn red and her cheeks puff out. Once I, a proud wisewolf, saw what a disgrace I would have to become, I couldn't stop my gorge from rising."
No doubt they had both been "a disgrace," but Holo's vain excuse was undeniably Holo-like. Lawrence had to laugh.
Holo folded her arms and made a sour face. There was a tomboyish innocence about her.
How fun the conversation would have been if it had not all been an act.
"In any case, you seem to enjoy liquor well enough, despite your loss," said Lawrence.
To which Holo answered, "You are only and ever a fool."
When they reached Rigolo's house, he was not there.
Melta received them in her nun's habit as always.
"You were very fast to read them all. It takes me near a month to read even one short tale," she said.
She seemed to speak not out of humility but rather bashfulness, her smile carrying with it an aura of kindness.
Lawrence couldn't help noticing this, but as Melta retrieved the key from Rigolo's desk and led them in, Holo didn't kick him even once.
"Mr. Rigolo said to tell you that if there is anything else you need, please feel free to borrow it," said Melta, using the key to open the door to the archives, then lighting a beeswax candle.
"Anything you want to read?" Lawrence asked Holo, who nodded vaguely.
"Please do look around, then. No matter how valuable these books, it seems a bit sad to let them go unread," said Melta.
"Thank you very much," said Lawrence, smiling and ducking his head by way of a bow.
Melta's personality seemed entirely genuine, instead of simply being a product of her occupation.
"I should say that the books you borrowed were written by Mr. Rigolo's grandfather, and as such use modern language. Some of the older books, however, use archaic writing styles and may be difficult to read."
Holo nodded at Melta's statement, then took the wax candle from her and proceeded slowly into the archives. Lawrence doubted there were actually any books she wanted to read and assumed Holo just wanted to kill time.
Her dancing with him in the inn, too, must have been something she anticipated in a way.
Even having understood everything, this was fun, and she had anticipated being able to end their journey with smiles.
But he knew that was impossible.
"Er—"
"Yes?" Melta had been watching the candle Holo held, but she now turned to Lawrence.
"I hate to be presumptuous, but would you mind terribly showing me Mr. Rigolo's garden?"
The gloom of the archives was fostering dark thoughts in Lawrence's mind, and he was starting to scare himself.
But Melta showed not so much as a dewdrop of concern. "I'm sure the flowers in the garden will be pleased to see you," she said with a smile that glowed like the wax candle.
"Holo," Lawrence called out, and her head appeared from behind one of the bookshelves. "Be careful with the books."
"I know, I know."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There really seemed to be no problems.
"How many thousands did my body fetch, I wonder?"
"Mm, about two thousand."
More properly, this was the amount fetched by Eve's house name, not Holo's body.
"Oh ho. How much wine would that buy?"
"An unbelievable amount of the finest quality."
"And you're going to take that money and profit with it, yes?"
Holo was demanding her cut, and Lawrence had every intention of giving it to her.
"If all goes well, I'll treat you to as much drink as you like."
Holo giggled. "Then I'll have...," she began but then hastily closed her mouth.
After a moment of confusion, Lawrence realized what she was going to say.
Then I'll have enough to stay drunk my whole life.
But that was an impossible dream.
"Then I'll have...enough so that I start vomiting even before I'm drunk," said Holo the Wisewolf.
Lawrence the traveling merchant could hardly fail to retort, "What? You lost the drinking game?"
"Yes...Still, that's quite natural. Think about it, will you? My opponent was not as beautiful as I, but she still had looks enough—and poured such wine into her guts as made her face turn red and her cheeks puff out. Once I, a proud wisewolf, saw what a disgrace I would have to become, I couldn't stop my gorge from rising."
No doubt they had both been "a disgrace," but Holo's vain excuse was undeniably Holo-like. Lawrence had to laugh.
Holo folded her arms and made a sour face. There was a tomboyish innocence about her.
How fun the conversation would have been if it had not all been an act.
"In any case, you seem to enjoy liquor well enough, despite your loss," said Lawrence.
To which Holo answered, "You are only and ever a fool."
When they reached Rigolo's house, he was not there.
Melta received them in her nun's habit as always.
"You were very fast to read them all. It takes me near a month to read even one short tale," she said.
She seemed to speak not out of humility but rather bashfulness, her smile carrying with it an aura of kindness.
Lawrence couldn't help noticing this, but as Melta retrieved the key from Rigolo's desk and led them in, Holo didn't kick him even once.
"Mr. Rigolo said to tell you that if there is anything else you need, please feel free to borrow it," said Melta, using the key to open the door to the archives, then lighting a beeswax candle.
"Anything you want to read?" Lawrence asked Holo, who nodded vaguely.
"Please do look around, then. No matter how valuable these books, it seems a bit sad to let them go unread," said Melta.
"Thank you very much," said Lawrence, smiling and ducking his head by way of a bow.
Melta's personality seemed entirely genuine, instead of simply being a product of her occupation.
"I should say that the books you borrowed were written by Mr. Rigolo's grandfather, and as such use modern language. Some of the older books, however, use archaic writing styles and may be difficult to read."
Holo nodded at Melta's statement, then took the wax candle from her and proceeded slowly into the archives. Lawrence doubted there were actually any books she wanted to read and assumed Holo just wanted to kill time.
Her dancing with him in the inn, too, must have been something she anticipated in a way.
Even having understood everything, this was fun, and she had anticipated being able to end their journey with smiles.
But he knew that was impossible.
"Er—"
"Yes?" Melta had been watching the candle Holo held, but she now turned to Lawrence.
"I hate to be presumptuous, but would you mind terribly showing me Mr. Rigolo's garden?"
The gloom of the archives was fostering dark thoughts in Lawrence's mind, and he was starting to scare himself.
But Melta showed not so much as a dewdrop of concern. "I'm sure the flowers in the garden will be pleased to see you," she said with a smile that glowed like the wax candle.
"Holo," Lawrence called out, and her head appeared from behind one of the bookshelves. "Be careful with the books."
"I know, I know."
| Lawrence more or less had the sense that this was true, and having warned Holo, he let Melta lead him out of the archives and back up to the ground floor.
He looked forward to gazing upon that bright garden and thinking about nothing in particular.
"Would you care for something to drink?"
"Ah, er, no—don't trouble yourself." Lawrence waved off Melta's kind offer, and she gave a short bow before quietly leaving the room.
If he had come on business, then his presence would have profited his host as well, so he wouldn't have worried about accepting their kindness. But as it was, Lawrence was presuming upon their good graces and didn't want to accept any more than he had to.
One of the Church's core principles was "give all you are able to."
"Ah, well," he ventured to say, putting an end to the thought. He didn't want to think about anything.
Lawrence turned his eyes to Rigolo's garden.
He had heard that making transparent glass was quite difficult. The price aside, constructing these huge windows must have involved many problems.
On the other side of the wall, through countless pieces of glass all joined together, there was a garden that looked as if it had taken even more work.
It was eerie, seeing the green plants, the white blossoms.
Rigolo had bragged that with some effort, he could preserve such scenery within this room year-round.
If that was true, then Rigolo must have sat at this desk, never bored with the scene that greeted him every time he looked at the garden.
Surely Melta, who seemed to look after Rigolo, must have gazed in fond exasperation at his back.
It made Lawrence frankly jealous. He grinned regretfully at his own folly, then looked back into the study.
It overflowed with papers and parchment and looked quite messy at a glance, though on closer inspection, the room was revealed to be tidy indeed. Rather than calling it a home or workplace, the term nest seemed most appropriate, given its scattered state.
Lawrence wondered if it was Eve's closeness to Rigolo that led him to have one of her statues in the room.
Or perhaps he'd had one of the leftovers foisted off on him.
It was packed with cotton in a wooden box, along with a rolled-up piece of parchment that was probably the certificate of consecration from the Church.
The statue was about the size of both of his hands with their fingers outstretched.
Lawrence looked at it closely, wondering how much it went for when he noticed something strange.
The statue's surface was slightly faded.
"What's this?"
In order to improve their appearance, statues were sometimes rubbed with lime and sometimes ink. This statue of the Holy Mother was white, so surely lime had been used on it.
But in a place where that finish seemed to have come off, Lawrence saw something strange.
He rubbed the statue lightly, trying to wipe it clean.
"...This, it can't be—"
"Is something the matter?" The sudden voice brought him back to himself.
He turned around. It was Melta. "Oh, goodness...this is rather embarrassing. I just thought this statue of the Holy Mother was so well made, I could do with having her hear my troubles."
"Goodness." Melta's eyes widened slightly, and she smiled. "I am a lamb in the Church's flock, so I would be happy to hear your worries."
Evidently Melta was not a hardheaded nun.
"I shall restrain myself," said Lawrence.
Melta carried a beautifully carved wooden tray with a compact wooden cup and a metal pitcher on it. "This is a drink made from bread, though I don't know if it will suit you."
The tray and cup had such soft, lovely lines that Lawrence wondered if Melta had made them herself. "Kvass, is it?"
"Goodness, sir merchant, you're quite knowledgeable," answered Melta, pouring a pale brown liquid from the pitcher into the cup.
"It hasn't been popular recently, so you don't see it much these days."
"I myself prefer it to the Blood of God...ah, er—please forget I said that!"
By the "Blood of God," she surely meant grape wine.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence more or less had the sense that this was true, and having warned Holo, he let Melta lead him out of the archives and back up to the ground floor.
He looked forward to gazing upon that bright garden and thinking about nothing in particular.
"Would you care for something to drink?"
"Ah, er, no—don't trouble yourself." Lawrence waved off Melta's kind offer, and she gave a short bow before quietly leaving the room.
If he had come on business, then his presence would have profited his host as well, so he wouldn't have worried about accepting their kindness. But as it was, Lawrence was presuming upon their good graces and didn't want to accept any more than he had to.
One of the Church's core principles was "give all you are able to."
"Ah, well," he ventured to say, putting an end to the thought. He didn't want to think about anything.
Lawrence turned his eyes to Rigolo's garden.
He had heard that making transparent glass was quite difficult. The price aside, constructing these huge windows must have involved many problems.
On the other side of the wall, through countless pieces of glass all joined together, there was a garden that looked as if it had taken even more work.
It was eerie, seeing the green plants, the white blossoms.
Rigolo had bragged that with some effort, he could preserve such scenery within this room year-round.
If that was true, then Rigolo must have sat at this desk, never bored with the scene that greeted him every time he looked at the garden.
Surely Melta, who seemed to look after Rigolo, must have gazed in fond exasperation at his back.
It made Lawrence frankly jealous. He grinned regretfully at his own folly, then looked back into the study.
It overflowed with papers and parchment and looked quite messy at a glance, though on closer inspection, the room was revealed to be tidy indeed. Rather than calling it a home or workplace, the term nest seemed most appropriate, given its scattered state.
Lawrence wondered if it was Eve's closeness to Rigolo that led him to have one of her statues in the room.
Or perhaps he'd had one of the leftovers foisted off on him.
It was packed with cotton in a wooden box, along with a rolled-up piece of parchment that was probably the certificate of consecration from the Church.
The statue was about the size of both of his hands with their fingers outstretched.
Lawrence looked at it closely, wondering how much it went for when he noticed something strange.
The statue's surface was slightly faded.
"What's this?"
In order to improve their appearance, statues were sometimes rubbed with lime and sometimes ink. This statue of the Holy Mother was white, so surely lime had been used on it.
But in a place where that finish seemed to have come off, Lawrence saw something strange.
He rubbed the statue lightly, trying to wipe it clean.
"...This, it can't be—"
"Is something the matter?" The sudden voice brought him back to himself.
He turned around. It was Melta. "Oh, goodness...this is rather embarrassing. I just thought this statue of the Holy Mother was so well made, I could do with having her hear my troubles."
"Goodness." Melta's eyes widened slightly, and she smiled. "I am a lamb in the Church's flock, so I would be happy to hear your worries."
Evidently Melta was not a hardheaded nun.
"I shall restrain myself," said Lawrence.
Melta carried a beautifully carved wooden tray with a compact wooden cup and a metal pitcher on it. "This is a drink made from bread, though I don't know if it will suit you."
The tray and cup had such soft, lovely lines that Lawrence wondered if Melta had made them herself. "Kvass, is it?"
"Goodness, sir merchant, you're quite knowledgeable," answered Melta, pouring a pale brown liquid from the pitcher into the cup.
"It hasn't been popular recently, so you don't see it much these days."
"I myself prefer it to the Blood of God...ah, er—please forget I said that!"
By the "Blood of God," she surely meant grape wine.
| Lawrence nodded and put his index finger to his lips.
If this were Ruvinheigen or Kumersun or Tereo, he would have treated Melta a bit differently, fearing Holo's revenge.
And yet if asked if he was truly enjoying this conversation, Lawrence would have answered in the negative.
His mind was racing with the knowledge he'd gained from the statue of the Holy Mother.
"Here you go," said Melta, offering him the drink.
Feeling as though Melta's gentle demeanor was a balm on his frayed heart, Lawrence took the cup.
"I take it Mr. Rigolo is at the meeting?"
"Yes. This morning there was an urgent message, and...oh, heavens, I'm sorry, I was told not to say anything about it."
Lawrence flashed his best merchant's smile at the apologetic Melta, shaking his head. "Not at all, and in any case I wouldn't ask about the subject of the meeting. It was a poor choice of topic. I had wanted to ask about the glass here, so it is unfortunate I could not see him again."
"Oh, is that so...? Well, this glass was gathered piece by piece, and it took over three years to collect it all."
"I see. Mr. Rigolo's passion for his garden is clear indeed," said Lawrence with deliberate surprise in his voice. Melta smiled brilliantly, as though she herself had been praised.
Eve had said she didn't understand Rigolo's lack of ambition and his passion for his garden, but with someone as understanding as Melta at his side, he could lose himself in his avocation. Rigolo's days were pleasant ones, Lawrence mused.
"With so much passion, I can understand why he would make such bold declarations as saying he wants to quit his post as the council's secretary."
Melta's smile was troubled as she nodded. "Though it is his job, he stays gazing at the garden until the last possible moment."
"I would say he might as well, but the secretary is an important post."
"God says that labor is valuable. But sometimes I feel that such a modest desire as being able to spend time in one's garden could also come true," said Melta, smiling.
It was a decadent dream that no pious nun should be able to embrace, but perhaps it was the fact that Melta was in love that made her think of it as pleasant.
No matter how Lawrence thought about it, she seemed to be saying that Rigolo's happiness was her happiness.
Perhaps it was Melta's dream to stand by Rigolo's side all day long as he watched his garden, bravely attending to him.
"Ah, but modest desires are the hardest to fulfill."
She laughed. "You may be right." Melta placed her hand to her cheek as she looked out on the bright garden. "And the most joyous times are the ones that you wish would last forever."
Stricken, Lawrence looked long and hard at Melta.
"Is something the matter?" she asked.
"I'm simply moved by your words."
"You flatter me."
He had been entirely serious, but Melta had taken his sincerity for a joke.
Lawrence wanted Holo to stay. He wanted her to stay forever, but maybe he should simply treasure the time for as long as he felt that way. The thought pierced his chest.
If they were truly always together, if they could always see each other again, perhaps that joy would unavoidably be destroyed.
It was not such a difficult truth.
Because it was so simple, Holo's dream of overturning this was too difficult.
"However, I do believe it's a fortunate thing to be able to pursue a simple dream," managed Lawrence, unable to forget his own reality.
Soon Holo came up from the archives, holding the wax candle.
She said the flame had gone out, but that was surely a lie.
Just as Lawrence had fled, Holo had found the dark corners of the archives distasteful and had escaped.
Lawrence knew this because as soon as Holo entered the room facing the brightly lit garden, she shot him a bitter glance.
Saying nothing, she stood next to him.
Lawrence looked straight at her, and spoke. "Did you find any good books?"
Holo shook her head. Her eyes asked, "Did you?"
Holo was Holo.
She could easily detect the slightest change in his demeanor.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence nodded and put his index finger to his lips.
If this were Ruvinheigen or Kumersun or Tereo, he would have treated Melta a bit differently, fearing Holo's revenge.
And yet if asked if he was truly enjoying this conversation, Lawrence would have answered in the negative.
His mind was racing with the knowledge he'd gained from the statue of the Holy Mother.
"Here you go," said Melta, offering him the drink.
Feeling as though Melta's gentle demeanor was a balm on his frayed heart, Lawrence took the cup.
"I take it Mr. Rigolo is at the meeting?"
"Yes. This morning there was an urgent message, and...oh, heavens, I'm sorry, I was told not to say anything about it."
Lawrence flashed his best merchant's smile at the apologetic Melta, shaking his head. "Not at all, and in any case I wouldn't ask about the subject of the meeting. It was a poor choice of topic. I had wanted to ask about the glass here, so it is unfortunate I could not see him again."
"Oh, is that so...? Well, this glass was gathered piece by piece, and it took over three years to collect it all."
"I see. Mr. Rigolo's passion for his garden is clear indeed," said Lawrence with deliberate surprise in his voice. Melta smiled brilliantly, as though she herself had been praised.
Eve had said she didn't understand Rigolo's lack of ambition and his passion for his garden, but with someone as understanding as Melta at his side, he could lose himself in his avocation. Rigolo's days were pleasant ones, Lawrence mused.
"With so much passion, I can understand why he would make such bold declarations as saying he wants to quit his post as the council's secretary."
Melta's smile was troubled as she nodded. "Though it is his job, he stays gazing at the garden until the last possible moment."
"I would say he might as well, but the secretary is an important post."
"God says that labor is valuable. But sometimes I feel that such a modest desire as being able to spend time in one's garden could also come true," said Melta, smiling.
It was a decadent dream that no pious nun should be able to embrace, but perhaps it was the fact that Melta was in love that made her think of it as pleasant.
No matter how Lawrence thought about it, she seemed to be saying that Rigolo's happiness was her happiness.
Perhaps it was Melta's dream to stand by Rigolo's side all day long as he watched his garden, bravely attending to him.
"Ah, but modest desires are the hardest to fulfill."
She laughed. "You may be right." Melta placed her hand to her cheek as she looked out on the bright garden. "And the most joyous times are the ones that you wish would last forever."
Stricken, Lawrence looked long and hard at Melta.
"Is something the matter?" she asked.
"I'm simply moved by your words."
"You flatter me."
He had been entirely serious, but Melta had taken his sincerity for a joke.
Lawrence wanted Holo to stay. He wanted her to stay forever, but maybe he should simply treasure the time for as long as he felt that way. The thought pierced his chest.
If they were truly always together, if they could always see each other again, perhaps that joy would unavoidably be destroyed.
It was not such a difficult truth.
Because it was so simple, Holo's dream of overturning this was too difficult.
"However, I do believe it's a fortunate thing to be able to pursue a simple dream," managed Lawrence, unable to forget his own reality.
Soon Holo came up from the archives, holding the wax candle.
She said the flame had gone out, but that was surely a lie.
Just as Lawrence had fled, Holo had found the dark corners of the archives distasteful and had escaped.
Lawrence knew this because as soon as Holo entered the room facing the brightly lit garden, she shot him a bitter glance.
Saying nothing, she stood next to him.
Lawrence looked straight at her, and spoke. "Did you find any good books?"
Holo shook her head. Her eyes asked, "Did you?"
Holo was Holo.
She could easily detect the slightest change in his demeanor.
| The next instant, there was the sound of banging on the door.
Following this came the sound of the door opening.
Heavy, graceless footfalls echoed through the house, and then someone appeared.
Melta was shocked, but she did not become angry or flustered at the surprising intrusion, because it was someone she knew well.
It was Eve.
"Come with me," said Eve. "Things are bad."
She was breathing heavily.
"It's an armed uprising."
"Lock your doors, and don't open them for anyone you don't know," said Eve, and Melta nodded, gulping as though she had swallowed a stone.
"Y-yes!"
"I don't care how displeased they are with the council's decision, I doubt they'll come to the secretary's house, so you should be fine," said Eve, giving Melta a light embrace. "And of course, Rigolo will be safe."
Melta nodded pathetically.
She was far more concerned for his safety than for her own.
"Right, let's go."
Eve directed these words to Lawrence and Holo, and Lawrence gave a short nod.
Holo stood a bit away looking disinterested, but Lawrence could tell that her ears were twitching to and fro beneath her hood. She probably had a good idea of what was going on in the surrounding area.
"We're off, then." Eve stepped out of the door, and Melta clasped her hands as if to pray for their safety.
Eve, Lawrence, and Holo walked down a deserted street at a fast stride that was almost a slow trot. "You said an 'uprising,' but who is it actually?" Lawrence asked.
"The fur craftsmen and the people who supply them their tools and wares."
The first thing Eve had said upon getting to Rigolo's house was, "This is bad."
The trigger had been the council making their decision public earlier than predicted.
Just as the council was trying to set up the wooden plaques that displayed the decision in the town square, the craftsmen and suppliers rushed in wielding their tools in place of weapons, demanding that the council rescind its ruling.
Though to Lawrence the decision seemed like an astute one, he could imagine that those who would find their businesses completely gone the next day could hardly swallow it.
And Eve said the council's decision was based on a naive forecast.
It was hardly surprising that the uncertainty and worry would take the form of a violent uprising. Even if the town's fur industry did survive, the townspeople themselves would be ruined, so it would be meaningless.
News of the uprising had reached the center of town quickly, and it was now apparently in complete disorder.
Lawrence could hear the distant cries and shouts.
He looked to Holo, who nodded.
"The council's decision can't be revoked, can it?" he asked.
Eve shook her head.
The Council of Fifty was an assembly of powerful people from all parts of town, and the decisions they made showed the town's resolve. Such decisions were given preference above all others, and all who lived in Lenos had to abide by them.
If a group whose interests lay in opposition to those of the council denied those decisions, there was the danger that it could severely damage the council's authority and make it difficult for the council to conduct its normal management of the town.
The fur craftsmen were no doubt well aware of that when they decided to revolt.
"The council has to protect its credibility, so the decision will be upheld. The foreign merchants are already coming into the town. The craftsmen are desperate to prevent them from doing so, but it's probably impossible."
Eve walked through the complicated maze of streets without any trouble.
Occasionally they passed others with goals similar to their own. Several times they saw merchants running through the alleys as fast as they could.
Lawrence was worried about whether Holo would be able to keep up, but she seemed fine for the moment. She held on to Lawrence's hand, careful to stay close.
"And our fur deal?" asked Lawrence.
"The council's decision was exactly what my information said it would be. Assuming it's upheld, then the deal is still on."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The next instant, there was the sound of banging on the door.
Following this came the sound of the door opening.
Heavy, graceless footfalls echoed through the house, and then someone appeared.
Melta was shocked, but she did not become angry or flustered at the surprising intrusion, because it was someone she knew well.
It was Eve.
"Come with me," said Eve. "Things are bad."
She was breathing heavily.
"It's an armed uprising."
"Lock your doors, and don't open them for anyone you don't know," said Eve, and Melta nodded, gulping as though she had swallowed a stone.
"Y-yes!"
"I don't care how displeased they are with the council's decision, I doubt they'll come to the secretary's house, so you should be fine," said Eve, giving Melta a light embrace. "And of course, Rigolo will be safe."
Melta nodded pathetically.
She was far more concerned for his safety than for her own.
"Right, let's go."
Eve directed these words to Lawrence and Holo, and Lawrence gave a short nod.
Holo stood a bit away looking disinterested, but Lawrence could tell that her ears were twitching to and fro beneath her hood. She probably had a good idea of what was going on in the surrounding area.
"We're off, then." Eve stepped out of the door, and Melta clasped her hands as if to pray for their safety.
Eve, Lawrence, and Holo walked down a deserted street at a fast stride that was almost a slow trot. "You said an 'uprising,' but who is it actually?" Lawrence asked.
"The fur craftsmen and the people who supply them their tools and wares."
The first thing Eve had said upon getting to Rigolo's house was, "This is bad."
The trigger had been the council making their decision public earlier than predicted.
Just as the council was trying to set up the wooden plaques that displayed the decision in the town square, the craftsmen and suppliers rushed in wielding their tools in place of weapons, demanding that the council rescind its ruling.
Though to Lawrence the decision seemed like an astute one, he could imagine that those who would find their businesses completely gone the next day could hardly swallow it.
And Eve said the council's decision was based on a naive forecast.
It was hardly surprising that the uncertainty and worry would take the form of a violent uprising. Even if the town's fur industry did survive, the townspeople themselves would be ruined, so it would be meaningless.
News of the uprising had reached the center of town quickly, and it was now apparently in complete disorder.
Lawrence could hear the distant cries and shouts.
He looked to Holo, who nodded.
"The council's decision can't be revoked, can it?" he asked.
Eve shook her head.
The Council of Fifty was an assembly of powerful people from all parts of town, and the decisions they made showed the town's resolve. Such decisions were given preference above all others, and all who lived in Lenos had to abide by them.
If a group whose interests lay in opposition to those of the council denied those decisions, there was the danger that it could severely damage the council's authority and make it difficult for the council to conduct its normal management of the town.
The fur craftsmen were no doubt well aware of that when they decided to revolt.
"The council has to protect its credibility, so the decision will be upheld. The foreign merchants are already coming into the town. The craftsmen are desperate to prevent them from doing so, but it's probably impossible."
Eve walked through the complicated maze of streets without any trouble.
Occasionally they passed others with goals similar to their own. Several times they saw merchants running through the alleys as fast as they could.
Lawrence was worried about whether Holo would be able to keep up, but she seemed fine for the moment. She held on to Lawrence's hand, careful to stay close.
"And our fur deal?" asked Lawrence.
"The council's decision was exactly what my information said it would be. Assuming it's upheld, then the deal is still on."
| "What shall we do? Shall we accept the money afterwards and do the fur buying in the meantime?"
"No," was Eve's answer. "I don't want any complications. We should go with the money in hand. You head to the Delink Company and pick up the coin."
Eve strode down the street, unconcerned with puddles, and continued speaking before Lawrence could say anything. "I'll make ready a boat," she said, stopping suddenly.
The trio came out of the narrow, winding street to find the docks directly in front of them.
Throngs of people walked to and fro, all of them with dark expressions.
Lawrence could tell that the crowds of hurrying merchants were all running to procure furs, and a chill ran down his spine.
It must be even worse in the town square, Lawrence thought, where the fur craftsmen were confronting those tasked with defending the signs that announced the council's decision.
"We're ahead of everyone here. We can't act in haste." Eve turned around. "Let us meet at the inn. We'll finish the deal once everything is in order." Her blue eyes were full of unwavering resolve.
It was in front of these docks while drinking wine with Lawrence that Eve had said that she was saving money for the sake of her childish revenge.
Whether that was a good motivation or not was not for him to decide.
But he did know one thing. Eve was a motivated, capable merchant.
"Understood."
He lightly grasped the hand that was offered to him. Eve smiled thinly, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Eve would surely arrange a fine ship and secure a route for the fur.
"Well then, shall we go?" asked Holo.
She sounded neither worried nor rushed.
"Yes, let's," replied Lawrence shortly. He started to walk but stopped short.
One could say that he had been sewn into place by Holo's piercing gaze.
"You saw something—no, you saw it and thought something—so why did you not tell me what it was?" Holo asked.
Lawrence smiled; Holo already knew everything.
"You've realized something dangerous about this deal. Am I wrong?"
He answered immediately; there was no point in hiding it. "You are not."
"So why do you keep silent?"
"Do you want to know?"
Holo reached her hand out to Lawrence's chest, but not simply because he had answered her question with another question.
Lawrence took hold of her finger, lowered it, then let go.
"As far as the danger inherent in this deal goes, let's say I told you of it. It extends to me and to you. But having considered the possibilities, I've decided we should pursue the profit without worrying about the risk. The amount we stand to gain is worth risking my life for, and even should the danger extend to you, you can always avoid it with your own abilities. Of course—"
Holo listened, her expression blank.
"—if it comes to that, it will be hard for us to reunite," Lawrence said.
Holo was silent.
Lawrence continued. "And if we were to have that conversation, this is what you would say—"
"...Do not throw away all that profit just to cling to a single thread of hope," finished Holo.
Lawrence shrugged, smiling.
He'd kept silent about his realization precisely because he hadn't wanted to make Holo say that.
If this deal succeeded, Lawrence's dream would essentially come true. He would return to the town a rich man, and Holo would come out to greet him and then part ways with him forever with smiles and words of blessing.
Or he would fail, and Holo would have to escape before she was sold off or worse, whereupon she would set off for her homeland alone, determination renewed. If he could be permitted a presumptuous thought, she might come to check on him and make sure he was well, but then she would leave him, and there would be nothing he could say to stop her.
In other words—
"The only chance I have to keep traveling with you is to abandon the deal entirely."
Lawrence held back the other words he felt—that even if it cost him his dream, he couldn't expose Holo to danger.
"Do you think that will make me happy?" Holo asked.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "What shall we do? Shall we accept the money afterwards and do the fur buying in the meantime?"
"No," was Eve's answer. "I don't want any complications. We should go with the money in hand. You head to the Delink Company and pick up the coin."
Eve strode down the street, unconcerned with puddles, and continued speaking before Lawrence could say anything. "I'll make ready a boat," she said, stopping suddenly.
The trio came out of the narrow, winding street to find the docks directly in front of them.
Throngs of people walked to and fro, all of them with dark expressions.
Lawrence could tell that the crowds of hurrying merchants were all running to procure furs, and a chill ran down his spine.
It must be even worse in the town square, Lawrence thought, where the fur craftsmen were confronting those tasked with defending the signs that announced the council's decision.
"We're ahead of everyone here. We can't act in haste." Eve turned around. "Let us meet at the inn. We'll finish the deal once everything is in order." Her blue eyes were full of unwavering resolve.
It was in front of these docks while drinking wine with Lawrence that Eve had said that she was saving money for the sake of her childish revenge.
Whether that was a good motivation or not was not for him to decide.
But he did know one thing. Eve was a motivated, capable merchant.
"Understood."
He lightly grasped the hand that was offered to him. Eve smiled thinly, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Eve would surely arrange a fine ship and secure a route for the fur.
"Well then, shall we go?" asked Holo.
She sounded neither worried nor rushed.
"Yes, let's," replied Lawrence shortly. He started to walk but stopped short.
One could say that he had been sewn into place by Holo's piercing gaze.
"You saw something—no, you saw it and thought something—so why did you not tell me what it was?" Holo asked.
Lawrence smiled; Holo already knew everything.
"You've realized something dangerous about this deal. Am I wrong?"
He answered immediately; there was no point in hiding it. "You are not."
"So why do you keep silent?"
"Do you want to know?"
Holo reached her hand out to Lawrence's chest, but not simply because he had answered her question with another question.
Lawrence took hold of her finger, lowered it, then let go.
"As far as the danger inherent in this deal goes, let's say I told you of it. It extends to me and to you. But having considered the possibilities, I've decided we should pursue the profit without worrying about the risk. The amount we stand to gain is worth risking my life for, and even should the danger extend to you, you can always avoid it with your own abilities. Of course—"
Holo listened, her expression blank.
"—if it comes to that, it will be hard for us to reunite," Lawrence said.
Holo was silent.
Lawrence continued. "And if we were to have that conversation, this is what you would say—"
"...Do not throw away all that profit just to cling to a single thread of hope," finished Holo.
Lawrence shrugged, smiling.
He'd kept silent about his realization precisely because he hadn't wanted to make Holo say that.
If this deal succeeded, Lawrence's dream would essentially come true. He would return to the town a rich man, and Holo would come out to greet him and then part ways with him forever with smiles and words of blessing.
Or he would fail, and Holo would have to escape before she was sold off or worse, whereupon she would set off for her homeland alone, determination renewed. If he could be permitted a presumptuous thought, she might come to check on him and make sure he was well, but then she would leave him, and there would be nothing he could say to stop her.
In other words—
"The only chance I have to keep traveling with you is to abandon the deal entirely."
Lawrence held back the other words he felt—that even if it cost him his dream, he couldn't expose Holo to danger.
"Do you think that will make me happy?" Holo asked.
| His cheek was slapped the next instant. "I won't say I'm happy. I'll never, ever say I'm sorry."
Holo had slapped him with all the strength in her small hand, and it probably hurt her hand more than his face.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he looked at her trembling expression.
With this, all chances for either of them to tell the other that they wanted to continue the journey were destroyed.
It was what Holo had wished for and what Lawrence had not.
He had given her what she wanted at the expense of his own desires.
This was surely near the very pinnacle of what could be called kindness, and as such, Holo feared it.
It amounted to a quiet revenge for her sudden pronouncement of the journey's end.
"I'll remember you as a cold, calculating merchant," she said.
At those words, Lawrence was finally able to smile. "It would be bad for my reputation if you thought me a foolish one. Come, let us go retrieve our war funds."
Lawrence started walking with Holo following a short distance behind him.
The sniffling sound he heard was surely not from the cold air.
Perhaps she thought it unfair, but Lawrence was not so magnanimous as to let Holo leave him without exacting some small vengeance.
But vengeance was a hollow thing.
When they arrived at the Delink Company, Holo was her usual self.
Vengeance begat vengeance.
This was for the best.
"There is no God in this world," murmured Holo flatly. "If your omniscient, omnipotent God truly existed, how could he just watch as such suffering goes on?"
Lawrence stopped short of knocking at the door. "How, indeed," he replied with a nod and only then knocked.
The Delink Company was as simply decorated as ever, and within the building it was quiet, as though completely separate from the clamor outside.
Of course, the merchants were aware of what was happening in the town, and upon seeing Lawrence's face, they happily arranged for the money.
Their unpleasant smiles disguised whatever they were thinking, but he could trust their proud assertion that they would guarantee the safety of his companion.
No matter how coldhearted the merchant, you could rely on that coldheartedness when it came to the careful treatment of their goods.
However, when it came time to hand over the money, they put it not in Lawrence's hands, but in Holo's.
It was the wisdom of the moneylender.
In receiving the money from the hands of Holo, the collateral, its import would be more effectively branded into his mind. It was also meant to stop him from defaulting, and in any case, this took his desire to turn a profit with the money to a new level.
Holo looked closely at the coin purse, which fit easily even into her small hands. She then looked at Lawrence.
"When you make a profit, I want the finest wine," Holo said with a sour look.
Enough to be drunk forever.
Enough that this last memory of him would remain in her heart forever.
"Of course," answered Lawrence, taking the coins.
"We, too, shall pray for your good fortune," said the Delink merchant.
He had probably interrupted in order to bring the conversation to a close. Experience would have taught him that such good-byes could drag on.
But Holo and Lawrence had long since said their good-byes.
"When we next meet, I'll be a town merchant," said Lawrence grandly.
Holo smiled. "I can't have a worthless merchant for my companion."
Lawrence didn't know what expression to assume in response to such a statement.
He didn't know, but when he left the shop and looked back, Holo was in the doorway, eyes downcast.
Lawrence ran into town, the bag of sixty gold pieces in hand.
He was in no mood to walk.
He didn't know if this was the right choice.
He just didn't know.
Even though there was no other choice, he still didn't know if this was the right one.
Nothing felt strange about this. Ahead of him lay profit so large he'd never dreamt of it.
Yet his heart was uneasy.
Lawrence held the gold under his arm and ran.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | His cheek was slapped the next instant. "I won't say I'm happy. I'll never, ever say I'm sorry."
Holo had slapped him with all the strength in her small hand, and it probably hurt her hand more than his face.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he looked at her trembling expression.
With this, all chances for either of them to tell the other that they wanted to continue the journey were destroyed.
It was what Holo had wished for and what Lawrence had not.
He had given her what she wanted at the expense of his own desires.
This was surely near the very pinnacle of what could be called kindness, and as such, Holo feared it.
It amounted to a quiet revenge for her sudden pronouncement of the journey's end.
"I'll remember you as a cold, calculating merchant," she said.
At those words, Lawrence was finally able to smile. "It would be bad for my reputation if you thought me a foolish one. Come, let us go retrieve our war funds."
Lawrence started walking with Holo following a short distance behind him.
The sniffling sound he heard was surely not from the cold air.
Perhaps she thought it unfair, but Lawrence was not so magnanimous as to let Holo leave him without exacting some small vengeance.
But vengeance was a hollow thing.
When they arrived at the Delink Company, Holo was her usual self.
Vengeance begat vengeance.
This was for the best.
"There is no God in this world," murmured Holo flatly. "If your omniscient, omnipotent God truly existed, how could he just watch as such suffering goes on?"
Lawrence stopped short of knocking at the door. "How, indeed," he replied with a nod and only then knocked.
The Delink Company was as simply decorated as ever, and within the building it was quiet, as though completely separate from the clamor outside.
Of course, the merchants were aware of what was happening in the town, and upon seeing Lawrence's face, they happily arranged for the money.
Their unpleasant smiles disguised whatever they were thinking, but he could trust their proud assertion that they would guarantee the safety of his companion.
No matter how coldhearted the merchant, you could rely on that coldheartedness when it came to the careful treatment of their goods.
However, when it came time to hand over the money, they put it not in Lawrence's hands, but in Holo's.
It was the wisdom of the moneylender.
In receiving the money from the hands of Holo, the collateral, its import would be more effectively branded into his mind. It was also meant to stop him from defaulting, and in any case, this took his desire to turn a profit with the money to a new level.
Holo looked closely at the coin purse, which fit easily even into her small hands. She then looked at Lawrence.
"When you make a profit, I want the finest wine," Holo said with a sour look.
Enough to be drunk forever.
Enough that this last memory of him would remain in her heart forever.
"Of course," answered Lawrence, taking the coins.
"We, too, shall pray for your good fortune," said the Delink merchant.
He had probably interrupted in order to bring the conversation to a close. Experience would have taught him that such good-byes could drag on.
But Holo and Lawrence had long since said their good-byes.
"When we next meet, I'll be a town merchant," said Lawrence grandly.
Holo smiled. "I can't have a worthless merchant for my companion."
Lawrence didn't know what expression to assume in response to such a statement.
He didn't know, but when he left the shop and looked back, Holo was in the doorway, eyes downcast.
Lawrence ran into town, the bag of sixty gold pieces in hand.
He was in no mood to walk.
He didn't know if this was the right choice.
He just didn't know.
Even though there was no other choice, he still didn't know if this was the right one.
Nothing felt strange about this. Ahead of him lay profit so large he'd never dreamt of it.
Yet his heart was uneasy.
Lawrence held the gold under his arm and ran.
| Without even bothering to listen in, he expected they—who were perhaps inn guests and their friends, Lawrence thought—were talking about the uprising in the town.
Lawrence headed for the stables, entering through the storehouse.
There were already two horses and one wagon there. Naturally, one of the horses and the wagon were Lawrence's. It was an excellent wagon with a driver's seat just a bit too big for one person alone.
What made him knit his brows was not the weight of the gold he carried. It was the weight that settled into his chest; it was too heavy. Lawrence shook it off and entered the storehouse.
As always, a variety of goods were piled as high as his head with paths finally cleared between piles of boxes. No single person knew all the things that were stored there. It was the perfect place to hide something small.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he made his way through the room when he bumped into someone doing just that.
"H-ho there. I got tired of waiting," Eve said, squatting down as she fished through a pile of goods.
"I brought the money." Lawrence produced the small burlap bag, and Eve closed her eyes as if taking a drink for the first time in three days.
"I've arranged for a ship. I found a captain whose profit vanished in the uprising. When I named him a good price, he said he'd set sail even if the navy should send ships to blockade him."
She had a good eye, that was certain.
Now all that remained was to safely move the fur through this uprising.
Then they would take it down the river and triple their money.
This made him dizzy just thinking about it.
Eve took the small pouch she had fished out of the pile of goods and quickly secured it in her breast pocket, then stood. "The lot at the trading company won't shake their heads once they catch sight of our gold coins. Their eyes will be nailed to the money, and they'll nod in spite of themselves."
It was easy to imagine, and Lawrence smiled, though he was not certain how convincing his smile was.
"In that case, let us go! This deal is a jest!"
Eve's talkativeness was a result of her nerves.
The deal was huge. In trenni silver, the amount came to two thousand pieces, and even converted to the legendary lumione gold coins for convenience's sake, it amounted to sixty of that coin.
The amount of profit that could be extracted from such money made a human life seem unavoidably indistinct.
No, it was indistinct.
Eve seemed to be making for the stable's exit behind Lawrence, but he didn't move. He blocked the way, so she had to stop.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking up, her face uncertain.
"When we buy fur with this money, the profit will come to four thousand silver pieces in the end, correct?"
Eve was about a head shorter than Lawrence. She retreated one step, then two, her cowl hiding her expression completely. "That's right," she said.
"And you've arranged for a ship, so now all we need to do is buy the fur."
"That's right."
"And you have a good sense for where to sell that fur."
"That's right."
In exchange for borrowing the money from Lawrence, Eve was lending him her experience and wits.
She had it all thought out, drawing a map of exactly how she would thread her way through the complicated relationships of the town, cinching up a deal and turning a profit.
Eve appeared before him, utterly confident that no matter what sudden wind might blow, she would not so much as flinch.
A traveling merchant who crossed the wilderness—that was the image of Eve he'd first embraced, her voice made hoarse by the dry wind.
Though from time to time Lawrence caught glimpses of her weaker self beneath the thick cowl she wore, she had the nerve to be able to keep him fooled.
She was a sly enough merchant for that.
If he just stayed quiet, pretending not to notice anything, playing the fool while leaving the deal in her hands, there would be no trouble.
If Eve was going to deceive him, it would not be to steal his share away.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Without even bothering to listen in, he expected they—who were perhaps inn guests and their friends, Lawrence thought—were talking about the uprising in the town.
Lawrence headed for the stables, entering through the storehouse.
There were already two horses and one wagon there. Naturally, one of the horses and the wagon were Lawrence's. It was an excellent wagon with a driver's seat just a bit too big for one person alone.
What made him knit his brows was not the weight of the gold he carried. It was the weight that settled into his chest; it was too heavy. Lawrence shook it off and entered the storehouse.
As always, a variety of goods were piled as high as his head with paths finally cleared between piles of boxes. No single person knew all the things that were stored there. It was the perfect place to hide something small.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he made his way through the room when he bumped into someone doing just that.
"H-ho there. I got tired of waiting," Eve said, squatting down as she fished through a pile of goods.
"I brought the money." Lawrence produced the small burlap bag, and Eve closed her eyes as if taking a drink for the first time in three days.
"I've arranged for a ship. I found a captain whose profit vanished in the uprising. When I named him a good price, he said he'd set sail even if the navy should send ships to blockade him."
She had a good eye, that was certain.
Now all that remained was to safely move the fur through this uprising.
Then they would take it down the river and triple their money.
This made him dizzy just thinking about it.
Eve took the small pouch she had fished out of the pile of goods and quickly secured it in her breast pocket, then stood. "The lot at the trading company won't shake their heads once they catch sight of our gold coins. Their eyes will be nailed to the money, and they'll nod in spite of themselves."
It was easy to imagine, and Lawrence smiled, though he was not certain how convincing his smile was.
"In that case, let us go! This deal is a jest!"
Eve's talkativeness was a result of her nerves.
The deal was huge. In trenni silver, the amount came to two thousand pieces, and even converted to the legendary lumione gold coins for convenience's sake, it amounted to sixty of that coin.
The amount of profit that could be extracted from such money made a human life seem unavoidably indistinct.
No, it was indistinct.
Eve seemed to be making for the stable's exit behind Lawrence, but he didn't move. He blocked the way, so she had to stop.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking up, her face uncertain.
"When we buy fur with this money, the profit will come to four thousand silver pieces in the end, correct?"
Eve was about a head shorter than Lawrence. She retreated one step, then two, her cowl hiding her expression completely. "That's right," she said.
"And you've arranged for a ship, so now all we need to do is buy the fur."
"That's right."
"And you have a good sense for where to sell that fur."
"That's right."
In exchange for borrowing the money from Lawrence, Eve was lending him her experience and wits.
She had it all thought out, drawing a map of exactly how she would thread her way through the complicated relationships of the town, cinching up a deal and turning a profit.
Eve appeared before him, utterly confident that no matter what sudden wind might blow, she would not so much as flinch.
A traveling merchant who crossed the wilderness—that was the image of Eve he'd first embraced, her voice made hoarse by the dry wind.
Though from time to time Lawrence caught glimpses of her weaker self beneath the thick cowl she wore, she had the nerve to be able to keep him fooled.
She was a sly enough merchant for that.
If he just stayed quiet, pretending not to notice anything, playing the fool while leaving the deal in her hands, there would be no trouble.
If Eve was going to deceive him, it would not be to steal his share away.
| She was no fool. He knew she wasn't so reckless as to throw in for a deal with no chance of success.
So he should just stay quiet.
If the deal succeeded, Lawrence would become a town merchant at the very least.
If only he could stay quiet.
"Do you doubt me?" Eve demanded.
"No."
"Then what? Have you lost your nerve?"
Lawrence looked within himself.
Was he weak? Timid?
No.
There was only one reason he couldn't stay foolish and silent. He couldn't get Holo out of his head.
"If we don't hurry, the merchants beyond the walls are going to get their money situations sorted. They've been making arrangements. We don't know where they might raise it from. Do you just want to bite down on your knuckle and look on as others turn an absurd profit? Are you listen—"
"Are you not frightened?" Lawrence asked, cutting her off.
Eve looked stunned. "Me? Hah. Don't be absurd," she spat, her lip twisting. "Of course I am."
Her voice was low, but it still echoed through the storehouse.
"It's thousands of silver pieces we're talking about here. How could I not be frightened? A human life is a fragile thing in the face of that much money. I don't have the nerve to stay calm in that sort of scenario."
"There's no guarantee I won't change my mind and attack you," said Lawrence.
"Hah. Indeed. The reverse is also true. No, our suspicion of each other may only grow...but in either case"—Eve took a deep breath as if to calm herself—"we can't continue taking these risks."
Eve did indeed understand the danger of this deal.
No, it was precisely because she understood that she was deceiving Lawrence.
So what was it that she saw on the other side of this profit for which she was willing to go to such lengths?
Eve laughed in a dry voice. "I can tell by your face you want to ask me something stupid. You want to know why I'll go to such lengths to earn money, no?" she said, seeming to wipe the palm of her right hand on her hip.
That was how natural the motion was.
"Sorry, but I can't have you back out of the deal now."
Suddenly a thick-bladed cleaver was in her hand. It would have been rude to call it a knife.
"To be honest, I didn't want to use this. But consider the amount. I'll be in trouble if you pull out now. You understand, don't you?"
Once they have a weapon in their hands, most people become excited as the blood rushes to their heads, but Eve's voice was calm and dry to the end.
"So long as the deal goes well, your profit's guaranteed. So hand it over."
"A human life isn't worth much in the face of sixty gold pieces."
"That's right...and you don't want to find that out in person, do you?"
Lawrence flashed his merchant's grin and produced the burlap pouch that Holo had given him, offering it to Eve.
"God's blessings be upon those with wit and wisdom," murmured Eve, and she made as if to take the pouch. But then—
***
Each of them moved with wordless energy.
Lawrence retreated, and Eve's blade swung down.
An instant later, there was a jingling sound as the bag of gold coins hit the floor.
The instant passed.
Eve's eyes blazed with blue flame, and Lawrence looked back at her evenly, unsurprised.
A few seconds later, their mutual failures occurred to each of them.
"We've both of us fallen short. Am I wrong?"
As she didn't pull back her arm and retreat, Lawrence caught a clear glimpse of the blade.
Eve was clever to the end.
The blade had been reversed, striking with the dull side of the single-edged weapon. He could tell that Eve didn't have any intention of cutting him.
In contrast, Lawrence's dodge had been in earnest, and yet the fact that he hadn't been surprised meant that he was convinced that her blade would fall.
Had he truly trusted Eve, Lawrence would have believed the opposite, standing still or betraying surprise when forced to dodge.
He didn't trust her, and he hadn't been surprised because he knew she was hiding something.
"My failure was in being sniffed out by you. That's what you meant by asking if I was scared, is it not?" asked Eve.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She was no fool. He knew she wasn't so reckless as to throw in for a deal with no chance of success.
So he should just stay quiet.
If the deal succeeded, Lawrence would become a town merchant at the very least.
If only he could stay quiet.
"Do you doubt me?" Eve demanded.
"No."
"Then what? Have you lost your nerve?"
Lawrence looked within himself.
Was he weak? Timid?
No.
There was only one reason he couldn't stay foolish and silent. He couldn't get Holo out of his head.
"If we don't hurry, the merchants beyond the walls are going to get their money situations sorted. They've been making arrangements. We don't know where they might raise it from. Do you just want to bite down on your knuckle and look on as others turn an absurd profit? Are you listen—"
"Are you not frightened?" Lawrence asked, cutting her off.
Eve looked stunned. "Me? Hah. Don't be absurd," she spat, her lip twisting. "Of course I am."
Her voice was low, but it still echoed through the storehouse.
"It's thousands of silver pieces we're talking about here. How could I not be frightened? A human life is a fragile thing in the face of that much money. I don't have the nerve to stay calm in that sort of scenario."
"There's no guarantee I won't change my mind and attack you," said Lawrence.
"Hah. Indeed. The reverse is also true. No, our suspicion of each other may only grow...but in either case"—Eve took a deep breath as if to calm herself—"we can't continue taking these risks."
Eve did indeed understand the danger of this deal.
No, it was precisely because she understood that she was deceiving Lawrence.
So what was it that she saw on the other side of this profit for which she was willing to go to such lengths?
Eve laughed in a dry voice. "I can tell by your face you want to ask me something stupid. You want to know why I'll go to such lengths to earn money, no?" she said, seeming to wipe the palm of her right hand on her hip.
That was how natural the motion was.
"Sorry, but I can't have you back out of the deal now."
Suddenly a thick-bladed cleaver was in her hand. It would have been rude to call it a knife.
"To be honest, I didn't want to use this. But consider the amount. I'll be in trouble if you pull out now. You understand, don't you?"
Once they have a weapon in their hands, most people become excited as the blood rushes to their heads, but Eve's voice was calm and dry to the end.
"So long as the deal goes well, your profit's guaranteed. So hand it over."
"A human life isn't worth much in the face of sixty gold pieces."
"That's right...and you don't want to find that out in person, do you?"
Lawrence flashed his merchant's grin and produced the burlap pouch that Holo had given him, offering it to Eve.
"God's blessings be upon those with wit and wisdom," murmured Eve, and she made as if to take the pouch. But then—
***
Each of them moved with wordless energy.
Lawrence retreated, and Eve's blade swung down.
An instant later, there was a jingling sound as the bag of gold coins hit the floor.
The instant passed.
Eve's eyes blazed with blue flame, and Lawrence looked back at her evenly, unsurprised.
A few seconds later, their mutual failures occurred to each of them.
"We've both of us fallen short. Am I wrong?"
As she didn't pull back her arm and retreat, Lawrence caught a clear glimpse of the blade.
Eve was clever to the end.
The blade had been reversed, striking with the dull side of the single-edged weapon. He could tell that Eve didn't have any intention of cutting him.
In contrast, Lawrence's dodge had been in earnest, and yet the fact that he hadn't been surprised meant that he was convinced that her blade would fall.
Had he truly trusted Eve, Lawrence would have believed the opposite, standing still or betraying surprise when forced to dodge.
He didn't trust her, and he hadn't been surprised because he knew she was hiding something.
"My failure was in being sniffed out by you. That's what you meant by asking if I was scared, is it not?" asked Eve.
| This was proof that she was used to violence.
If he thought about the fact that his opponent was a woman, he would be dead in an instant.
"The statue in Rigolo's house is one piece of evidence, isn't it?" asked Lawrence.
Eve's lip twisted, and she switched the knife from its reversed position to a proper grip.
"You pretended to be dealing in stone statues, but what you were really doing was smuggling processed rock salt molded into statues."
"Could be...," she said, and Lawrence could see Eve lowering her stance.
Whether or not he ran, this was looking like a bad bet.
"I had reason to suspect you of smuggling salt, but it never occurred to me that it would be carved rock salt, since the Church would surely notice you carrying out smuggling on that scale."
But there was still a way around the problem.
It went without saying that it meant cutting the Church in on the deal.
Lenos's parish had been desperate for money.
The Church wouldn't hesitate to dabble in salt smuggling, which surely brought in more money than stone statues.
Lawrence had not realized this sooner due to the fact that Eve brought her statues in from a port town.
If the material was being hauled in from a seaside town, from the standpoint of weight and volume, any salt would obviously have been grain salt.
Hauling bulkier, more labor-intensive rock salt in from the coast flew against any merchant's common sense.
And it was that common sense that Eve had manipulated in order to get through the town gates.
"I'm sure you and the Church had a lovely honeymoon for a while. I've heard that it was throwing so much money around that nobody could figure out where it was coming from. But then it all ended, I'm guessing because of the northern campaign. The Church started to solidify its base of power and pulled out of the salt-smuggling racket rather than risk an uprising or two. And just then, this fur trouble came up. And being clever, this is what you proposed to the bishop—"
Eve raised the tip of her blade high.
Lawrence backed up another step.
"If the merchants waiting outside the town were going to buy up all the fur, why not just do it ourselves?"
Eve had said that she had heard the results of the Council of Fifty's meeting from her contacts inside the Church.
Still, her skill had been far out of the ordinary.
Rather than imagining Eve had come up with all of this on the spot, it made more sense for Lawrence to believe that she had plotted it all along, and only just then took action.
And it went without saying who stood to profit the most from a rule that restricted fur sales to cash.
It would be extremely lucrative for the Church, in whose coffers sat a nearly unimaginable amount of money from the tithes it collected.
The bigger a trading firm became, the more of its business took place on paper, in entries on ledgers, with all of the money going into and out of the firm assiduously recorded, making raising money behind closed doors difficult.
And with the careful body searches being conducted at the town gates, and in the case of merchants coming to buy fur, the questioning of the origin of their money, a significant number of merchants could be contained.
But Eve still maintained confidence that she could buy up fur.
It was true that the foreign merchants had made long preparations, but now that the craftsmen and suppliers had rioted, none of them would risk giving foreigners any money at all.
And yet Eve was nervous.
That could mean only one thing.
She knew where the foreign merchants were going to get their money, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.
That was the true motive of the Church in deciding to cut ties with the fallen noble merchant who, in addition to smuggling salt, had approached the archbishop of the region by the sea.
Eve said that the Church had claimed it was more advantageous to deal with a trade company than with an individual merchant.
And that was exactly so.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | This was proof that she was used to violence.
If he thought about the fact that his opponent was a woman, he would be dead in an instant.
"The statue in Rigolo's house is one piece of evidence, isn't it?" asked Lawrence.
Eve's lip twisted, and she switched the knife from its reversed position to a proper grip.
"You pretended to be dealing in stone statues, but what you were really doing was smuggling processed rock salt molded into statues."
"Could be...," she said, and Lawrence could see Eve lowering her stance.
Whether or not he ran, this was looking like a bad bet.
"I had reason to suspect you of smuggling salt, but it never occurred to me that it would be carved rock salt, since the Church would surely notice you carrying out smuggling on that scale."
But there was still a way around the problem.
It went without saying that it meant cutting the Church in on the deal.
Lenos's parish had been desperate for money.
The Church wouldn't hesitate to dabble in salt smuggling, which surely brought in more money than stone statues.
Lawrence had not realized this sooner due to the fact that Eve brought her statues in from a port town.
If the material was being hauled in from a seaside town, from the standpoint of weight and volume, any salt would obviously have been grain salt.
Hauling bulkier, more labor-intensive rock salt in from the coast flew against any merchant's common sense.
And it was that common sense that Eve had manipulated in order to get through the town gates.
"I'm sure you and the Church had a lovely honeymoon for a while. I've heard that it was throwing so much money around that nobody could figure out where it was coming from. But then it all ended, I'm guessing because of the northern campaign. The Church started to solidify its base of power and pulled out of the salt-smuggling racket rather than risk an uprising or two. And just then, this fur trouble came up. And being clever, this is what you proposed to the bishop—"
Eve raised the tip of her blade high.
Lawrence backed up another step.
"If the merchants waiting outside the town were going to buy up all the fur, why not just do it ourselves?"
Eve had said that she had heard the results of the Council of Fifty's meeting from her contacts inside the Church.
Still, her skill had been far out of the ordinary.
Rather than imagining Eve had come up with all of this on the spot, it made more sense for Lawrence to believe that she had plotted it all along, and only just then took action.
And it went without saying who stood to profit the most from a rule that restricted fur sales to cash.
It would be extremely lucrative for the Church, in whose coffers sat a nearly unimaginable amount of money from the tithes it collected.
The bigger a trading firm became, the more of its business took place on paper, in entries on ledgers, with all of the money going into and out of the firm assiduously recorded, making raising money behind closed doors difficult.
And with the careful body searches being conducted at the town gates, and in the case of merchants coming to buy fur, the questioning of the origin of their money, a significant number of merchants could be contained.
But Eve still maintained confidence that she could buy up fur.
It was true that the foreign merchants had made long preparations, but now that the craftsmen and suppliers had rioted, none of them would risk giving foreigners any money at all.
And yet Eve was nervous.
That could mean only one thing.
She knew where the foreign merchants were going to get their money, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.
That was the true motive of the Church in deciding to cut ties with the fallen noble merchant who, in addition to smuggling salt, had approached the archbishop of the region by the sea.
Eve said that the Church had claimed it was more advantageous to deal with a trade company than with an individual merchant.
And that was exactly so.
| Eve must have thought that none of the outside merchants could possibly be carrying a large amount of money, but what if the Church carefully moved its tithe money outside the town?
The revolting craftsmen and merchants would discover that contrary to their belief, the foreign merchants had a large amount of money, probably because some entity within the town had betrayed them.
There hadn't been a single lie in the story that Eve had presented Lawrence.
There had not been a lie...but it wasn't the truth, either.
"The statue in Rigolo's house is certainly rock salt. And you're right that I was the one who brought the furs to the attention of that lousy bishop and right about him cutting me loose and finding another patron, as well. I'll leave it up to you as to whether to believe me or not," said Eve with a laugh, tossing the knife to the floor.
"Trust me," she seemed to be saying.
Lawrence didn't even wonder whether or not there was a need for her to lie this far in.
He would simply decide whether she was lying or not and act accordingly.
That was all.
"And the reason you think I brought the deal to you...that's probably right, too."
"I'm a shield to protect you."
Eve shrugged. "I'm a salt smuggler who knows all the Church's worst secrets. Of course, before we parted ways, they guaranteed my life. It was a verbal contract, so you never know. If a good opportunity were to arise, though, I'm sure they'll use me again. So it must be true. And I did make a profit myself. I didn't have any intention of starting an uprising, and I'm sure they know that."
"But you couldn't let the deal that you proposed to them get away."
"Exactly. Even if it means I'll be interfering with their expectations, I can't let this profit go."
"So you thought to yourself, 'They can kill one person, but it's hard to kill two.'"
What would the Church think of Lawrence, a man who used his own companion as collateral in a deal that went against the interests of the town?
From the outside, he surely looked like a conspirator who knew all the ins and outs of Eve's plan.
One person can be easily silenced, but as soon as there are two, things become difficult—all the more so when the second person is an outsider on whom they have no background information. Without knowing where Lawrence came from, there was no telling what trade firm or guild might come storming into the city if he was killed.
Lawrence had unknowingly played that role.
And because he hadn't known anything about it, his performance had been magnificent.
He must have either seemed simply reckless or looked like he believed the Church unworthy of fear.
If he hadn't known anything, if he had pretended not to know anything, the deal would surely have gone off well.
"So what's it going to be?" Eve asked.
"It's going to be this," said Lawrence, and in that instant, he lunged for both the bag of gold and the blade.
***
The two glared wordlessly at each other.
A cold sweat broke out on Lawrence's forehead.
The moment he reached out for the blade, a small knife had appeared in Eve's hand, and she plunged it down at him.
And this time she was not striking with the flat of the blade.
That much Lawrence could predict, but getting out of the way would be a gamble.
"Do you crave money so much?" he asked.
By some miracle, he was able to twist Eve's left hand away by the wrist.
While she was far from powerless, she was still a woman. The knife fell from her hand.
"D-don't you...?"
"I do—no..." Lawrence paused before continuing. "I did."
"That's a funny—"
"Joke," perhaps she would have said, but Lawrence twisted her arm around and shoved her against a stack of wooden crates, grabbing her collar with his free hand and yanking it back, cutting off her voice.
"If you kill me and hide my corpse, it probably won't be found until long after the deal's done. The Church would never guess that our partnership had fractured. I have to say, I'm impressed. Or were you simply planning to take the gold and run?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Eve must have thought that none of the outside merchants could possibly be carrying a large amount of money, but what if the Church carefully moved its tithe money outside the town?
The revolting craftsmen and merchants would discover that contrary to their belief, the foreign merchants had a large amount of money, probably because some entity within the town had betrayed them.
There hadn't been a single lie in the story that Eve had presented Lawrence.
There had not been a lie...but it wasn't the truth, either.
"The statue in Rigolo's house is certainly rock salt. And you're right that I was the one who brought the furs to the attention of that lousy bishop and right about him cutting me loose and finding another patron, as well. I'll leave it up to you as to whether to believe me or not," said Eve with a laugh, tossing the knife to the floor.
"Trust me," she seemed to be saying.
Lawrence didn't even wonder whether or not there was a need for her to lie this far in.
He would simply decide whether she was lying or not and act accordingly.
That was all.
"And the reason you think I brought the deal to you...that's probably right, too."
"I'm a shield to protect you."
Eve shrugged. "I'm a salt smuggler who knows all the Church's worst secrets. Of course, before we parted ways, they guaranteed my life. It was a verbal contract, so you never know. If a good opportunity were to arise, though, I'm sure they'll use me again. So it must be true. And I did make a profit myself. I didn't have any intention of starting an uprising, and I'm sure they know that."
"But you couldn't let the deal that you proposed to them get away."
"Exactly. Even if it means I'll be interfering with their expectations, I can't let this profit go."
"So you thought to yourself, 'They can kill one person, but it's hard to kill two.'"
What would the Church think of Lawrence, a man who used his own companion as collateral in a deal that went against the interests of the town?
From the outside, he surely looked like a conspirator who knew all the ins and outs of Eve's plan.
One person can be easily silenced, but as soon as there are two, things become difficult—all the more so when the second person is an outsider on whom they have no background information. Without knowing where Lawrence came from, there was no telling what trade firm or guild might come storming into the city if he was killed.
Lawrence had unknowingly played that role.
And because he hadn't known anything about it, his performance had been magnificent.
He must have either seemed simply reckless or looked like he believed the Church unworthy of fear.
If he hadn't known anything, if he had pretended not to know anything, the deal would surely have gone off well.
"So what's it going to be?" Eve asked.
"It's going to be this," said Lawrence, and in that instant, he lunged for both the bag of gold and the blade.
***
The two glared wordlessly at each other.
A cold sweat broke out on Lawrence's forehead.
The moment he reached out for the blade, a small knife had appeared in Eve's hand, and she plunged it down at him.
And this time she was not striking with the flat of the blade.
That much Lawrence could predict, but getting out of the way would be a gamble.
"Do you crave money so much?" he asked.
By some miracle, he was able to twist Eve's left hand away by the wrist.
While she was far from powerless, she was still a woman. The knife fell from her hand.
"D-don't you...?"
"I do—no..." Lawrence paused before continuing. "I did."
"That's a funny—"
"Joke," perhaps she would have said, but Lawrence twisted her arm around and shoved her against a stack of wooden crates, grabbing her collar with his free hand and yanking it back, cutting off her voice.
"If you kill me and hide my corpse, it probably won't be found until long after the deal's done. The Church would never guess that our partnership had fractured. I have to say, I'm impressed. Or were you simply planning to take the gold and run?"
| The oily sweat on her brow was proof that this was no act.
"No, you wouldn't do that. The reason you tried to kill me is the bag you were looking for when I first entered the storeroom. You're just dying to use it."
That instant, Eve paled.
She realized that if he continued to choke her, her life could genuinely be in danger, and this showed on her face.
Money was more important to her than her life.
Lawrence laughed.
"So, it's the money you made smuggling salt? What you managed to pile up over time must be at least equal to what I brought—maybe more. And you were going to buy fur with all that, with me none the wiser."
Eve did not answer.
The tortured expression on her face seemed to come more from her fear that the money in her breast pocket would be taken than the fact that her plan had been revealed.
"The reason you couldn't do the fur deal yourself is because you have too much money on hand. If you tried that alone, the Church would think nothing of killing you. So you brought me in. It's easy to kill one person, but killing two—that's hard. And you'll continue to pull together money to invest until the Church gets serious about eliminating us. It's one thing not to care about a stranger's life, but you don't even care about your own. All you care about is profit!"
If it hadn't been for that fact, Lawrence probably would have stayed quiet.
He probably would have pretended to be ignorant of the salt smuggling and simply focused on the deal.
But he couldn't watch someone take such massive risks and simply let that go.
No matter how great the profit, there had to be a limit to the amount of risk one allowed.
What Eve was doing was tantamount to suicide.
Having come this far, he wanted—needed—to ask her why.
"What is it...?"
***
"What is it at the end of all of this that makes taking such absurd risks worthwhile?"
Even as Lawrence hoisted her off the ground, even as her face turned dark red, even then, Eve smiled.
"I'm a merchant, too. Making money brings me happiness. But I don't know what lies at the end of it all. First you make one silver piece, then two. Then after two, three. But have you never stopped to consider what awaits at the end of this drive to quench that constant thirst?"
Of course, Lawrence hadn't considered this, either.
He didn't have the luxury.
That was because since meeting Holo, he suddenly felt freer. His constant quest for profit had somehow diminished.
Its place had been supplanted by conversations with Holo.
Eve was probably his exact opposite.
She put profit above her own life.
"Wh-what...what do...," she began, her voice hoarser than usual.
Lawrence slackened his grip somewhat, and Eve wheezed as though asthmatic, coughing. Her smile never wavered as she continued.
"What do I...think is waiting?"
Her blue eyes started straight into his. "Are you so childish as to think something is waiting?" she sneered.
He didn't tighten his grip again. She had hit her mark perfectly.
"Every time I looked at the rich bastard that bought me, I wondered to myself—what could he possibly be doing with so much money? No matter how much you make, there's no end to it, but the next day comes, and you can't keep yourself from earning more. How awful to be rich, I thought."
Eve coughed, took a deep breath, and continued. "And I must look like a pathetic creature to you. After all, I chose the same path he did."
The next moment, Lawrence felt like he saw Eve's hand move.
And then without really understanding what had happened, by the time he realized he'd been punched, he collapsed to the floor.
"I watched his vain efforts, even watched him die, and yet still I chose this path. Do you know why?"
It wasn't the small knife that was now perched beneath Lawrence's throat.
It was the large cleaver clutched in her hand, waiting vigilantly for a chance to do its job.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The oily sweat on her brow was proof that this was no act.
"No, you wouldn't do that. The reason you tried to kill me is the bag you were looking for when I first entered the storeroom. You're just dying to use it."
That instant, Eve paled.
She realized that if he continued to choke her, her life could genuinely be in danger, and this showed on her face.
Money was more important to her than her life.
Lawrence laughed.
"So, it's the money you made smuggling salt? What you managed to pile up over time must be at least equal to what I brought—maybe more. And you were going to buy fur with all that, with me none the wiser."
Eve did not answer.
The tortured expression on her face seemed to come more from her fear that the money in her breast pocket would be taken than the fact that her plan had been revealed.
"The reason you couldn't do the fur deal yourself is because you have too much money on hand. If you tried that alone, the Church would think nothing of killing you. So you brought me in. It's easy to kill one person, but killing two—that's hard. And you'll continue to pull together money to invest until the Church gets serious about eliminating us. It's one thing not to care about a stranger's life, but you don't even care about your own. All you care about is profit!"
If it hadn't been for that fact, Lawrence probably would have stayed quiet.
He probably would have pretended to be ignorant of the salt smuggling and simply focused on the deal.
But he couldn't watch someone take such massive risks and simply let that go.
No matter how great the profit, there had to be a limit to the amount of risk one allowed.
What Eve was doing was tantamount to suicide.
Having come this far, he wanted—needed—to ask her why.
"What is it...?"
***
"What is it at the end of all of this that makes taking such absurd risks worthwhile?"
Even as Lawrence hoisted her off the ground, even as her face turned dark red, even then, Eve smiled.
"I'm a merchant, too. Making money brings me happiness. But I don't know what lies at the end of it all. First you make one silver piece, then two. Then after two, three. But have you never stopped to consider what awaits at the end of this drive to quench that constant thirst?"
Of course, Lawrence hadn't considered this, either.
He didn't have the luxury.
That was because since meeting Holo, he suddenly felt freer. His constant quest for profit had somehow diminished.
Its place had been supplanted by conversations with Holo.
Eve was probably his exact opposite.
She put profit above her own life.
"Wh-what...what do...," she began, her voice hoarser than usual.
Lawrence slackened his grip somewhat, and Eve wheezed as though asthmatic, coughing. Her smile never wavered as she continued.
"What do I...think is waiting?"
Her blue eyes started straight into his. "Are you so childish as to think something is waiting?" she sneered.
He didn't tighten his grip again. She had hit her mark perfectly.
"Every time I looked at the rich bastard that bought me, I wondered to myself—what could he possibly be doing with so much money? No matter how much you make, there's no end to it, but the next day comes, and you can't keep yourself from earning more. How awful to be rich, I thought."
Eve coughed, took a deep breath, and continued. "And I must look like a pathetic creature to you. After all, I chose the same path he did."
The next moment, Lawrence felt like he saw Eve's hand move.
And then without really understanding what had happened, by the time he realized he'd been punched, he collapsed to the floor.
"I watched his vain efforts, even watched him die, and yet still I chose this path. Do you know why?"
It wasn't the small knife that was now perched beneath Lawrence's throat.
It was the large cleaver clutched in her hand, waiting vigilantly for a chance to do its job.
| He realized his body felt much lighter, but he couldn't get up.
Neither could he close his mouth, and with what felt more like unbearable disorienting pressure all over his body, he couldn't even raise his voice. Yet somehow, using his elbow, Lawrence managed to roll over and get into a crawling position. He couldn't move any more than that, and he looked at the drops of blood that pattered to the floor through his tear-blurred eyes.
His ears could still sort out the sounds around him, so he knew that Eve had left the storehouse.
She had probably taken the money.
That thought filtered like pleasantly cool water through his swimming head.
He didn't know how long he was in there before some random guest of the inn entered and rushed to his side, helping him sit up.
He was a large, round man with clothes fringed in fur from all over. It had to be the old fur trader from the north Arold had mentioned.
"Are—are you all right?"
Lawrence laughed at the clichéd phrase in spite of himself, then managed a "sorry," and nodded.
"Was it a robber?"
Finding a person collapsed in a storehouse naturally suggested as much.
But Lawrence shook his head in the negative.
"A broken deal, then?"
There were only so many types of misfortune that could befall a merchant.
"Oh, what's this...," said the man, and when Lawrence saw what he had picked up, he forgot all about his painful face and laughed.
"What's wrong?"
Evidently the fat man couldn't read because he only cocked his head curiously at the paper, and when Lawrence reached for it, he handed it over, puzzlement written all over his face.
Lawrence looked down at the paper once again.
He really wasn't misunderstanding.
Apparently Eve couldn't quite bring herself to toss Lawrence entirely aside.
"Obsession maybe?" Lawrence murmured to himself, swallowing blood.
But that didn't seem quite right.
Immediately after she had struck Lawrence with the haft of her cleaver, he'd caught the merest glimpse of Eve's face.
It was neither obsessed nor avaricious.
"Hey, are you all right?" The man hastily tried to help Lawrence up when he started to stand, but Lawrence merely nodded and declined.
Eve had left him Arold's deed to the inn.
As a fellow merchant, he could hardly fail to understand what she meant by this.
Having gotten to his feet, Lawrence began to walk, albeit unsteadily.
He tottered out of the storehouse and into the stable.
"She needs to see, does she?"
Eve had taken all his money.
There was only one place for Lawrence to go.
"She needs to see."
He laughed again, then spat blood.
***
There were so many people in the streets that it was impossible to pass near the town square to get to the docks, owing to the fight between those trying to make the council's decision public and those who opposed that decision.
Angry shouts and bellows were exchanged, and tensions were high.
Not a one of them noticed Lawrence's terrible state. That was how bad the riot was.
As long as the sun or moon was out, he could navigate a complicated city with nothing but the date and the direction. He ran through the streets, heading for the Delink Company.
Eve had probably gone directly to buy fur.
It didn't seem like Lawrence was going to make staggering amounts of money, but he felt he didn't mind.
Leaving behind the letter that proved Arold was surrendering the inn was probably Eve's last concession, but for Lawrence it was enough.
The letter of guarantee he held was probably worth just shy of the amount he had borrowed from the Delink Company. At the very least, the merchants wanted to curry favor with Eve, who was nobility, a goal they would be able to accomplish. Whether or not they would be able to quickly collect the money from Lawrence was a secondary concern, and they would probably be willing to wait a bit on however much he came up short.
The problem was Holo.
What sort of face would she make once she found out Lawrence had let the deal that would have given him his dream slip away?
She would be enraged surely.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He realized his body felt much lighter, but he couldn't get up.
Neither could he close his mouth, and with what felt more like unbearable disorienting pressure all over his body, he couldn't even raise his voice. Yet somehow, using his elbow, Lawrence managed to roll over and get into a crawling position. He couldn't move any more than that, and he looked at the drops of blood that pattered to the floor through his tear-blurred eyes.
His ears could still sort out the sounds around him, so he knew that Eve had left the storehouse.
She had probably taken the money.
That thought filtered like pleasantly cool water through his swimming head.
He didn't know how long he was in there before some random guest of the inn entered and rushed to his side, helping him sit up.
He was a large, round man with clothes fringed in fur from all over. It had to be the old fur trader from the north Arold had mentioned.
"Are—are you all right?"
Lawrence laughed at the clichéd phrase in spite of himself, then managed a "sorry," and nodded.
"Was it a robber?"
Finding a person collapsed in a storehouse naturally suggested as much.
But Lawrence shook his head in the negative.
"A broken deal, then?"
There were only so many types of misfortune that could befall a merchant.
"Oh, what's this...," said the man, and when Lawrence saw what he had picked up, he forgot all about his painful face and laughed.
"What's wrong?"
Evidently the fat man couldn't read because he only cocked his head curiously at the paper, and when Lawrence reached for it, he handed it over, puzzlement written all over his face.
Lawrence looked down at the paper once again.
He really wasn't misunderstanding.
Apparently Eve couldn't quite bring herself to toss Lawrence entirely aside.
"Obsession maybe?" Lawrence murmured to himself, swallowing blood.
But that didn't seem quite right.
Immediately after she had struck Lawrence with the haft of her cleaver, he'd caught the merest glimpse of Eve's face.
It was neither obsessed nor avaricious.
"Hey, are you all right?" The man hastily tried to help Lawrence up when he started to stand, but Lawrence merely nodded and declined.
Eve had left him Arold's deed to the inn.
As a fellow merchant, he could hardly fail to understand what she meant by this.
Having gotten to his feet, Lawrence began to walk, albeit unsteadily.
He tottered out of the storehouse and into the stable.
"She needs to see, does she?"
Eve had taken all his money.
There was only one place for Lawrence to go.
"She needs to see."
He laughed again, then spat blood.
***
There were so many people in the streets that it was impossible to pass near the town square to get to the docks, owing to the fight between those trying to make the council's decision public and those who opposed that decision.
Angry shouts and bellows were exchanged, and tensions were high.
Not a one of them noticed Lawrence's terrible state. That was how bad the riot was.
As long as the sun or moon was out, he could navigate a complicated city with nothing but the date and the direction. He ran through the streets, heading for the Delink Company.
Eve had probably gone directly to buy fur.
It didn't seem like Lawrence was going to make staggering amounts of money, but he felt he didn't mind.
Leaving behind the letter that proved Arold was surrendering the inn was probably Eve's last concession, but for Lawrence it was enough.
The letter of guarantee he held was probably worth just shy of the amount he had borrowed from the Delink Company. At the very least, the merchants wanted to curry favor with Eve, who was nobility, a goal they would be able to accomplish. Whether or not they would be able to quickly collect the money from Lawrence was a secondary concern, and they would probably be willing to wait a bit on however much he came up short.
The problem was Holo.
What sort of face would she make once she found out Lawrence had let the deal that would have given him his dream slip away?
She would be enraged surely.
| When he asked where Holo was being kept, they led him to a single room within the building.
However, once he put his hand on the door, they stopped him with their eyes.
"Don't lay a hand on the collateral," they seemed to say.
Lawrence produced the deed that Eve had given him and handed it over to the Delink Company. They did the profit-loss computation so fast it put a traveling merchant to shame.
Eringin smoothly put the deed into his breast pocket and smiled—genuinely for once—before withdrawing.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
"I said no one may enter—!" cried Holo, then cut herself off.
He had hoped she might cry, but evidently he didn't give Holo enough credit.
Nonetheless, she was clearly shocked, her face a mask of anger.
"Why, you...you..." Her trembling lips seemed to make it difficult to articulate words.
Lawrence nonchalantly closed the door behind him and sat on the chair in the middle of the room.
"You fool!"
Holo flew at him. Surely those words were made to describe exactly what happened this moment.
He had expected it and so managed to avoid being thrown from the chair.
"Don't—don't tell me—don't tell me you called off the deal!"
"I certainly didn't. It was stolen right out from under me."
Holo's surprise was like that of a maiden whose favorite dress has been stained, and she grabbed Lawrence by his lapels using all of her strength.
"Was that not your dream?!"
"It was my dream. No. It still is."
"Then why—why?"
"Why am I so calm, you mean?"
Holo looked on the verge of tears, her lips trembling violently.
Lawrence had been certain that regardless of the outcome of the deal, he would be separating from Holo in this town.
Holo felt the same way.
"We merchants worked a few things out, so I was left enough to buy you back from this company."
At a loss for words...Lawrence wanted to label and frame Holo's face as it was just then.
"Do—do you not remember why I was so frightened?"
"It's too embarrassing. I can't bring myself to speak of it."
Holo struck him in the face, right where Eve had hit him with the haft of the cleaver, and the pain was enough to make him collapse.
Holo then mercilessly hauled him back up.
"And then you came traipsing back, even knowing that, to appear before me, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu? What do you wish for? What do you desire? Tell me! Just tell me, damn you!"
Lawrence remembered when he had seen her like this before.
Back then, too, Lawrence had been beaten, had lost all his assets, and faced death.
Holo had pitched in to help bail him out that time.
What about now?
He had been robbed, injured, yet had managed to get away while somehow safeguarding Holo's life...Would she not see it that way?
If not, the words Holo expected were obvious.
She wanted to part ways from him here in this town, smiling all the way.
"Your...wolf form."
Holo nodded, baring her fangs. "Leave it to me. You'll become a full-fledged merchant thanks to meeting me. We can end the story with a smile. It must be so!" she said, producing the pouch that held the wheat grains about her neck.
Lawrence watched her, smiling.
"What's the m—"
She never got to finish the word.
"Did you think I was going to ask you to use your wolf form to get the money back?"
Lawrence pulled Holo's body into his embrace. Immediately the sound of something scattering could be heard, no doubt the wheat grains upon the floor.
Perhaps among them were some tears, but he dismissed that as wishful thinking.
"Eve is pursuing a deal tantamount to suicide. If the Church learns of it, our lives will be in danger, too. We should leave this town before the disturbance is over."
***
Holo tried to twist away, but Lawrence stopped her and continued speaking as coolly as he could manage.
"I didn't see Eve's true nature. She is obsessed with money. She thinks nothing of throwing her life away for it. But no number of lives will satisfy a deal like that."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | When he asked where Holo was being kept, they led him to a single room within the building.
However, once he put his hand on the door, they stopped him with their eyes.
"Don't lay a hand on the collateral," they seemed to say.
Lawrence produced the deed that Eve had given him and handed it over to the Delink Company. They did the profit-loss computation so fast it put a traveling merchant to shame.
Eringin smoothly put the deed into his breast pocket and smiled—genuinely for once—before withdrawing.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
"I said no one may enter—!" cried Holo, then cut herself off.
He had hoped she might cry, but evidently he didn't give Holo enough credit.
Nonetheless, she was clearly shocked, her face a mask of anger.
"Why, you...you..." Her trembling lips seemed to make it difficult to articulate words.
Lawrence nonchalantly closed the door behind him and sat on the chair in the middle of the room.
"You fool!"
Holo flew at him. Surely those words were made to describe exactly what happened this moment.
He had expected it and so managed to avoid being thrown from the chair.
"Don't—don't tell me—don't tell me you called off the deal!"
"I certainly didn't. It was stolen right out from under me."
Holo's surprise was like that of a maiden whose favorite dress has been stained, and she grabbed Lawrence by his lapels using all of her strength.
"Was that not your dream?!"
"It was my dream. No. It still is."
"Then why—why?"
"Why am I so calm, you mean?"
Holo looked on the verge of tears, her lips trembling violently.
Lawrence had been certain that regardless of the outcome of the deal, he would be separating from Holo in this town.
Holo felt the same way.
"We merchants worked a few things out, so I was left enough to buy you back from this company."
At a loss for words...Lawrence wanted to label and frame Holo's face as it was just then.
"Do—do you not remember why I was so frightened?"
"It's too embarrassing. I can't bring myself to speak of it."
Holo struck him in the face, right where Eve had hit him with the haft of the cleaver, and the pain was enough to make him collapse.
Holo then mercilessly hauled him back up.
"And then you came traipsing back, even knowing that, to appear before me, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu? What do you wish for? What do you desire? Tell me! Just tell me, damn you!"
Lawrence remembered when he had seen her like this before.
Back then, too, Lawrence had been beaten, had lost all his assets, and faced death.
Holo had pitched in to help bail him out that time.
What about now?
He had been robbed, injured, yet had managed to get away while somehow safeguarding Holo's life...Would she not see it that way?
If not, the words Holo expected were obvious.
She wanted to part ways from him here in this town, smiling all the way.
"Your...wolf form."
Holo nodded, baring her fangs. "Leave it to me. You'll become a full-fledged merchant thanks to meeting me. We can end the story with a smile. It must be so!" she said, producing the pouch that held the wheat grains about her neck.
Lawrence watched her, smiling.
"What's the m—"
She never got to finish the word.
"Did you think I was going to ask you to use your wolf form to get the money back?"
Lawrence pulled Holo's body into his embrace. Immediately the sound of something scattering could be heard, no doubt the wheat grains upon the floor.
Perhaps among them were some tears, but he dismissed that as wishful thinking.
"Eve is pursuing a deal tantamount to suicide. If the Church learns of it, our lives will be in danger, too. We should leave this town before the disturbance is over."
***
Holo tried to twist away, but Lawrence stopped her and continued speaking as coolly as he could manage.
"I didn't see Eve's true nature. She is obsessed with money. She thinks nothing of throwing her life away for it. But no number of lives will satisfy a deal like that."
| "When crossing a dangerous bridge, once is enough."
***
Back when Lawrence had visited the village of Pasloe, there had been no particular reason for Holo, hiding in his wagon bed, to travel with him. She could have stolen his clothes and taken the wheat, and she would have been just fine on her own.
If she had truly believed that becoming close to another led only and always to despair, if she genuinely feared that, no matter how much she longed for company, she would never have spoken to him.
A dog that burns itself on the fireplace will always be wary.
Those who approach the fireplace are the ones who think that within it smolder roasted chestnuts and are unable to forget that sweet taste.
Even if he could see what hardships lay ahead or even if at the end there would be nothing at all, Lawrence had to reach out. He had to.
He needed to see.
He needed to see what was at the end of all of this.
When Eve had struck Lawrence, he had laughed from the humiliation of it. He'd laughed like a girl.
Lawrence was a bit too young to turn into an enlightened recluse.
He put his hand around the back of Holo's head, and she flinched.
Becoming closer than they already were couldn't possibly be the right decision. Holo's view of the matter was the right one, he supposed.
The end would surely come, and so staying like this was not the wisest course.
And yet Lawrence embraced Holo. And then—
"I like you."
He kissed her right cheek ever so lightly.
Holo froze, then looked Lawrence straight in the eyes, so close that their foreheads nearly touched. Her expression shifted slowly to rage.
"What do you even know about me?"
"I don't know much. I don't know if the decision your centuries of life has led you to is correct. But I do know one thing."
He felt as if he might melt into her red-brown pupils.
There was no doubt that he would die before her, and the fact of his again meant that his values would be quicker to change.
Surely Lawrence would be the one for whom delight would fade first.
And yet, he didn't let her go.
"Wishing for you to be mine might not make it so. But if I don't wish it, you'll never be mine."
Holo looked down, then wrenched herself away violently, finally succeeding in pulling herself free.
Her tail bristled and her ears pricked up with her overwhelming anger.
But she did not change to her wolf form. She remained human, glaring at him.
"Eve chases profit, even though it puts her life in danger. Even though the moment she gets what she wants, it fades. There's a lesson to be learned there as a merchant. Call it a mirror. I thought I should try to be more like that," finished Lawrence without any embarrassment, clearing his throat once.
He then stooped to gather up the wheat grains that had been spilled beneath the chair.
Holo stood there stock-still.
She stood there without looking at anything in particular.
When droplets began to hit the floor where Lawrence gathered up the wheat, he looked up.
"You fool...," said Holo, wiping her tears with one hand. They welled up one after another, but she wiped them anyway.
Lawrence offered the now-refilled wheat pouch up toward Holo's free hand, whereupon she grabbed it.
"You'll take proper responsibility, won't you?" Her smile was not deliberate.
"When the times comes, we'll part ways with smiles and leave it at that. There's no such thing as a journey that doesn't end. But—"
Tears continued to fall, but by now it seemed Holo was crying more at her own pathetic visage than anything else.
Even a human girl rarely looked so unsightly.
Lawrence smiled. "But as it is, I don't think we could part with smiles right now. That's all."
Holo nodded at Lawrence's words as she wiped her tears.
"Anyway, why are you so pessimistic?" he asked.
There had to be a reason.
There was no question that the many years she had weathered contained within them reasons enough for her timidity.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "When crossing a dangerous bridge, once is enough."
***
Back when Lawrence had visited the village of Pasloe, there had been no particular reason for Holo, hiding in his wagon bed, to travel with him. She could have stolen his clothes and taken the wheat, and she would have been just fine on her own.
If she had truly believed that becoming close to another led only and always to despair, if she genuinely feared that, no matter how much she longed for company, she would never have spoken to him.
A dog that burns itself on the fireplace will always be wary.
Those who approach the fireplace are the ones who think that within it smolder roasted chestnuts and are unable to forget that sweet taste.
Even if he could see what hardships lay ahead or even if at the end there would be nothing at all, Lawrence had to reach out. He had to.
He needed to see.
He needed to see what was at the end of all of this.
When Eve had struck Lawrence, he had laughed from the humiliation of it. He'd laughed like a girl.
Lawrence was a bit too young to turn into an enlightened recluse.
He put his hand around the back of Holo's head, and she flinched.
Becoming closer than they already were couldn't possibly be the right decision. Holo's view of the matter was the right one, he supposed.
The end would surely come, and so staying like this was not the wisest course.
And yet Lawrence embraced Holo. And then—
"I like you."
He kissed her right cheek ever so lightly.
Holo froze, then looked Lawrence straight in the eyes, so close that their foreheads nearly touched. Her expression shifted slowly to rage.
"What do you even know about me?"
"I don't know much. I don't know if the decision your centuries of life has led you to is correct. But I do know one thing."
He felt as if he might melt into her red-brown pupils.
There was no doubt that he would die before her, and the fact of his again meant that his values would be quicker to change.
Surely Lawrence would be the one for whom delight would fade first.
And yet, he didn't let her go.
"Wishing for you to be mine might not make it so. But if I don't wish it, you'll never be mine."
Holo looked down, then wrenched herself away violently, finally succeeding in pulling herself free.
Her tail bristled and her ears pricked up with her overwhelming anger.
But she did not change to her wolf form. She remained human, glaring at him.
"Eve chases profit, even though it puts her life in danger. Even though the moment she gets what she wants, it fades. There's a lesson to be learned there as a merchant. Call it a mirror. I thought I should try to be more like that," finished Lawrence without any embarrassment, clearing his throat once.
He then stooped to gather up the wheat grains that had been spilled beneath the chair.
Holo stood there stock-still.
She stood there without looking at anything in particular.
When droplets began to hit the floor where Lawrence gathered up the wheat, he looked up.
"You fool...," said Holo, wiping her tears with one hand. They welled up one after another, but she wiped them anyway.
Lawrence offered the now-refilled wheat pouch up toward Holo's free hand, whereupon she grabbed it.
"You'll take proper responsibility, won't you?" Her smile was not deliberate.
"When the times comes, we'll part ways with smiles and leave it at that. There's no such thing as a journey that doesn't end. But—"
Tears continued to fall, but by now it seemed Holo was crying more at her own pathetic visage than anything else.
Even a human girl rarely looked so unsightly.
Lawrence smiled. "But as it is, I don't think we could part with smiles right now. That's all."
Holo nodded at Lawrence's words as she wiped her tears.
"Anyway, why are you so pessimistic?" he asked.
There had to be a reason.
There was no question that the many years she had weathered contained within them reasons enough for her timidity.
| The conclusion that in order to achieve happiness one must wish for nothing was inadmissible.
Even Holo, having lived so many centuries, could not have forgotten the innocence of her youth.
Eventually she looked up at the ceiling, sniffing loudly.
A moment passed.
"You wish to know why I am pessimistic?" she asked, looking back at Lawrence. "Don't you prefer me tearful and sobbing?"
Lawrence could only laugh at the unexpected attack.
He did not stand but sat there as he took Holo's hand in his own and kissed it, as a knight kisses a maiden's hand.
She was Holo the Wisewolf. When she spoke next, it was in a tone that befit the situation, as though she was handing down a pronouncement from on high.
"You've rejected my notion, so you had best be prepared to take responsibility for what may come."
"...I will," answered Lawrence.
Holo was silent for a moment, then sighed.
"You took my foolishness seriously—seriously enough to lose all your profit. So I—"
She stopped herself, shook her head, then continued.
"I'll go along with your foolish plan. However!"
"However?"
No sooner had Lawrence spoken than Holo kicked him hard on his shoulder, then looked down on him as a person looks down on an insect.
"I can't have a worthless merchant for my companion. Don't tell me you'll let your deal be stolen, then turn tail and run."
Given that this was what passed for kindness from Holo, Lawrence had but one thing to say.
He took her hand and got to his feet, then wiped what remained of the tears from her face. "Your kindness is quite frightening as well."
Lawrence could not be sure whether or not she would call him a fool for this.
As to why, surely Holo would not be spoken of in the tales that were passed down through eternity.
There were only a handful of things that would stop her from speaking her mind.
"...So, how will you get the money back?" Holo's eyes were cool and piercing, as if to say that he had no choice.
And yet Lawrence felt like making a joke.
Those eyes of hers hid her embarrassment, after all.
"Forget the profit. I'd rather have you give me back my initiative."
"Fool," declared Holo flatly, slapping his swollen cheek and pulling away. "Do you think I would ever allow such a thing?"
Lawrence wanted to double over in pain, but her tone suggested she was totally unconcerned with that.
She spun around as if to show him the magnificent tail of Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, then put a hand on her hip and looked at him over her shoulder. "I'd be in trouble if I fell for you."
Lawrence would never forget her mischievous smile.
Holo giggled, causing her chestnut fall of hair to shake.
It was a foolish conversation.
It really is, he thought.
"I suppose you would be," he said.
"Mm."
Lawrence and Holo left the room.
They held hands, and though neither of them had initiated it, their fingers were intertwined.
Isuna Hasekura
Born December 27, 1982, winner of the twelfth Dengeki Novel Prize Silver Medal. Despite studying physics in college, when deadlines approach he subscribes to the psychological theory of "I can do it if I just work hard," then agonizes about whether, as a man of science, he should instead be thinking, "This is physically impossible."
Works from Dengeki Bunko:
Spice and Wolf
Spice and Wolf II
Spice and Wolf III
Spice and Wolf IV
Spice and Wolf V
Illustrations: Jyuu Ayakura
Born 1981. Birthplace: Kyoto. Blood type: AB. Currently living a free, spartan life in Tokyo. Lately he's been thinking of moving, but the rent within the twenty-three wards has left him in despair.
***
Holo's strides were long and quick.
She walked as though she meant to punch holes in the cobblestones with her heels, and although Lawrence usually found himself slowing his walking pace to let her keep up, suddenly the tables were turned.
The town was still chaotic; the clamor of the waves of humanity was violent as they crossed the harbor. Lawrence found himself pulled toward the water's edge by Holo, as she took his hand and led the way.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The conclusion that in order to achieve happiness one must wish for nothing was inadmissible.
Even Holo, having lived so many centuries, could not have forgotten the innocence of her youth.
Eventually she looked up at the ceiling, sniffing loudly.
A moment passed.
"You wish to know why I am pessimistic?" she asked, looking back at Lawrence. "Don't you prefer me tearful and sobbing?"
Lawrence could only laugh at the unexpected attack.
He did not stand but sat there as he took Holo's hand in his own and kissed it, as a knight kisses a maiden's hand.
She was Holo the Wisewolf. When she spoke next, it was in a tone that befit the situation, as though she was handing down a pronouncement from on high.
"You've rejected my notion, so you had best be prepared to take responsibility for what may come."
"...I will," answered Lawrence.
Holo was silent for a moment, then sighed.
"You took my foolishness seriously—seriously enough to lose all your profit. So I—"
She stopped herself, shook her head, then continued.
"I'll go along with your foolish plan. However!"
"However?"
No sooner had Lawrence spoken than Holo kicked him hard on his shoulder, then looked down on him as a person looks down on an insect.
"I can't have a worthless merchant for my companion. Don't tell me you'll let your deal be stolen, then turn tail and run."
Given that this was what passed for kindness from Holo, Lawrence had but one thing to say.
He took her hand and got to his feet, then wiped what remained of the tears from her face. "Your kindness is quite frightening as well."
Lawrence could not be sure whether or not she would call him a fool for this.
As to why, surely Holo would not be spoken of in the tales that were passed down through eternity.
There were only a handful of things that would stop her from speaking her mind.
"...So, how will you get the money back?" Holo's eyes were cool and piercing, as if to say that he had no choice.
And yet Lawrence felt like making a joke.
Those eyes of hers hid her embarrassment, after all.
"Forget the profit. I'd rather have you give me back my initiative."
"Fool," declared Holo flatly, slapping his swollen cheek and pulling away. "Do you think I would ever allow such a thing?"
Lawrence wanted to double over in pain, but her tone suggested she was totally unconcerned with that.
She spun around as if to show him the magnificent tail of Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, then put a hand on her hip and looked at him over her shoulder. "I'd be in trouble if I fell for you."
Lawrence would never forget her mischievous smile.
Holo giggled, causing her chestnut fall of hair to shake.
It was a foolish conversation.
It really is, he thought.
"I suppose you would be," he said.
"Mm."
Lawrence and Holo left the room.
They held hands, and though neither of them had initiated it, their fingers were intertwined.
Isuna Hasekura
Born December 27, 1982, winner of the twelfth Dengeki Novel Prize Silver Medal. Despite studying physics in college, when deadlines approach he subscribes to the psychological theory of "I can do it if I just work hard," then agonizes about whether, as a man of science, he should instead be thinking, "This is physically impossible."
Works from Dengeki Bunko:
Spice and Wolf
Spice and Wolf II
Spice and Wolf III
Spice and Wolf IV
Spice and Wolf V
Illustrations: Jyuu Ayakura
Born 1981. Birthplace: Kyoto. Blood type: AB. Currently living a free, spartan life in Tokyo. Lately he's been thinking of moving, but the rent within the twenty-three wards has left him in despair.
***
Holo's strides were long and quick.
She walked as though she meant to punch holes in the cobblestones with her heels, and although Lawrence usually found himself slowing his walking pace to let her keep up, suddenly the tables were turned.
The town was still chaotic; the clamor of the waves of humanity was violent as they crossed the harbor. Lawrence found himself pulled toward the water's edge by Holo, as she took his hand and led the way.
| But in reality, there was nothing kindhearted about her.
After all, just a short time ago, she had struck a forceful blow to the already-swelled-up right side of his head.
"Come, can you not walk a bit faster?!"
Holo showed not a shred of kindness now, pulling hard on his hand and scolding him roundly if he slowed even a little, her expression sharp, as though she had been about to eat some honey-drizzled raspberry tarts but had dropped them on the floor.
But Lawrence said nothing.
That her expression did not seem to accuse him made her actions difficult to criticize.
Lawrence was well aware of the fact that she was angry at herself.
That said, here in the town of Lenos, he had worked up a scheme to sell furs with Eve that had put his life on the line and even wound up injuring him, only to then have a dizzyingly difficult exchange with Holo.
A bit of a rest would have been nice.
"Can we walk a bit slower? Just for a little while."
It wasn't as though Lawrence had lost a significant amount of blood, but the earlier scuffle involving knives and cleavers had left him more than usually tired. His feet were leaden, and his arms felt like those of a wood-carved mannequin.
And in any case, hurrying was pointless.
Lawrence tried to convince Holo of as much, but she looked back at him with a glare as hot as boiling oil.
"Walk? Walk, you say? So did you walk when you came to meet me then?"
The town of Lenos was on the edge of chaos; no one turned to look at Holo when she shouted.
"N-no! I ran. I ran!"
Holo looked ahead again without bothering to voice her reply—then a bit more running will hardly kill you—and continued to walk with large strides. Because she was still gripping his hand so tightly, he had no choice but to keep up.
He was just as he had been when going to the Delink Company, pressuring them into giving up Holo, then convincing Holo not to go through with her plan of ending their journey right then and there, instead resuming their business together.
Holo's slender fingers intertwined tightly with his. She was not so much holding his hand as their hands were joined.
And so Lawrence had no choice but to be pulled along. If Holo moved forward, so did he. If he stopped, his fingers would be yanked painfully, and the only solution was to catch up with her.
The forced march brought them shortly to Arold's inn.
"Out of my way!" cried Holo to the crowd of merchants that had gathered there to exchange information on the upheaval in the town.
Despite being well used to being yelled at, the merchants gave way to Holo's threatening stance.
Their eyes followed her in, peering closely at Lawrence as he trailed behind her.
Lawrence felt a bit oppressed, already anticipating the things that would be said about him when next he returned to this town to do business.
"Where is the old man?" Holo demanded.
Upon entering the inn, instead of finding Arold in his usual place, there were two men who looked like traveling craftsmen sitting in front of the charcoal brazier and drinking mulled wine.
"Th-the old man?"
"The old man with the beard! The master of this shop. Where is he?"
Going by their outwardly apparent ages, the two craftsmen would have been three times Holo's age, but they were so cowed by her threatening attitude that they looked to each other hastily before one spoke. "Er, he just asked us to look after the place while he was gone, but we don't know where..."
"Rrrrrr," growled Holo; it was enough to make even Lawrence flinch, to say nothing of the two craftsmen.
Her sharp canines might well have been visible, and little was as intimidating as an angry woman baring her fangs.
That would have been Lawrence's answer, he guessed, had anybody said anything to him.
"He must have gone off with that fox...Perhaps they think to make fools of us. Come, you! Let us go!" shouted Holo, pulling again on Lawrence's hand and leading him farther into the inn and up the stairs.
The two craftsmen watched them go.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But in reality, there was nothing kindhearted about her.
After all, just a short time ago, she had struck a forceful blow to the already-swelled-up right side of his head.
"Come, can you not walk a bit faster?!"
Holo showed not a shred of kindness now, pulling hard on his hand and scolding him roundly if he slowed even a little, her expression sharp, as though she had been about to eat some honey-drizzled raspberry tarts but had dropped them on the floor.
But Lawrence said nothing.
That her expression did not seem to accuse him made her actions difficult to criticize.
Lawrence was well aware of the fact that she was angry at herself.
That said, here in the town of Lenos, he had worked up a scheme to sell furs with Eve that had put his life on the line and even wound up injuring him, only to then have a dizzyingly difficult exchange with Holo.
A bit of a rest would have been nice.
"Can we walk a bit slower? Just for a little while."
It wasn't as though Lawrence had lost a significant amount of blood, but the earlier scuffle involving knives and cleavers had left him more than usually tired. His feet were leaden, and his arms felt like those of a wood-carved mannequin.
And in any case, hurrying was pointless.
Lawrence tried to convince Holo of as much, but she looked back at him with a glare as hot as boiling oil.
"Walk? Walk, you say? So did you walk when you came to meet me then?"
The town of Lenos was on the edge of chaos; no one turned to look at Holo when she shouted.
"N-no! I ran. I ran!"
Holo looked ahead again without bothering to voice her reply—then a bit more running will hardly kill you—and continued to walk with large strides. Because she was still gripping his hand so tightly, he had no choice but to keep up.
He was just as he had been when going to the Delink Company, pressuring them into giving up Holo, then convincing Holo not to go through with her plan of ending their journey right then and there, instead resuming their business together.
Holo's slender fingers intertwined tightly with his. She was not so much holding his hand as their hands were joined.
And so Lawrence had no choice but to be pulled along. If Holo moved forward, so did he. If he stopped, his fingers would be yanked painfully, and the only solution was to catch up with her.
The forced march brought them shortly to Arold's inn.
"Out of my way!" cried Holo to the crowd of merchants that had gathered there to exchange information on the upheaval in the town.
Despite being well used to being yelled at, the merchants gave way to Holo's threatening stance.
Their eyes followed her in, peering closely at Lawrence as he trailed behind her.
Lawrence felt a bit oppressed, already anticipating the things that would be said about him when next he returned to this town to do business.
"Where is the old man?" Holo demanded.
Upon entering the inn, instead of finding Arold in his usual place, there were two men who looked like traveling craftsmen sitting in front of the charcoal brazier and drinking mulled wine.
"Th-the old man?"
"The old man with the beard! The master of this shop. Where is he?"
Going by their outwardly apparent ages, the two craftsmen would have been three times Holo's age, but they were so cowed by her threatening attitude that they looked to each other hastily before one spoke. "Er, he just asked us to look after the place while he was gone, but we don't know where..."
"Rrrrrr," growled Holo; it was enough to make even Lawrence flinch, to say nothing of the two craftsmen.
Her sharp canines might well have been visible, and little was as intimidating as an angry woman baring her fangs.
That would have been Lawrence's answer, he guessed, had anybody said anything to him.
"He must have gone off with that fox...Perhaps they think to make fools of us. Come, you! Let us go!" shouted Holo, pulling again on Lawrence's hand and leading him farther into the inn and up the stairs.
The two craftsmen watched them go.
| For Arold, the master of this inn, to do something like leaving these two craftsmen to watch over his place while he was out, Lawrence could think of only one possibility: It had to be because of Eve, whose plan for fur trading was so dangerous that not even Lawrence could be party to it. Arold must have headed downriver with her. While Eve's goal was the port town of Kerube, Arold was probably taking his pilgrimage south.
Arold had never talked about himself very much, so Lawrence didn't know exactly what it was that could spur him to such action. Eve seemed quite familiar with him, so perhaps there was something in their shared past that led them to a mutual understanding.
In the same way that one had nostalgia for one's hometown, no place was so comforting as a house one had become used to living in.
The inn was darkened with age, and the sediment of passing time had accumulated within its walls, which had once contained the leather strap tannery where Arold had worked as master.
It would take something significant indeed to make him abandon all that and head south on pilgrimage.
Would he count on Eve to handle traveling expenses and to act as a guide for the difficult journey?
Just as Holo had lived for many years and experienced much, Arold's life had not been a short one.
What someone valued, and how he or she conducted his or her judgments, varied from person to person.
Weighing that value on the balance of the world and testing which way the scales tipped was life itself—and so Lawrence had gone to see Holo at the Delink Company.
Having let Holo pull him bodily into and out of the room, he now pulled back. Holo turned to face him.
"There's something I'd like to ask you," he said.
Holo had not been expecting Lawrence to pull away, and as she looked at him, her expression was so simple it was funny—her earlier fierceness had peeled away, revealing her true feelings.
She seemed both upset and strangely resolute.
In a word, she was lost.
As to what it was that had her so confused, Lawrence could hazard a guess.
"What do you plan to do next?" he asked.
But that was that. As soon as Lawrence voiced his question, Holo, who was also called the wisewolf, regained her composure.
"What shall I do, you ask?"
Her tone was such that Lawrence would have been hardly surprised to hear her follow up by saying, I'll rip your throat out for asking, that's what I'll do.
Yet Lawrence didn't flinch, instead bringing up his hand—which still held Holo's—and brushing a red speck from the corner of her mouth with his knuckle.
No doubt it was a fleck of dried blood from Lawrence's own face.
Her expression seemed angry, but even at a glance, it was clear that her mask was slipping.
She was angry at herself.
Her own feelings were too much for her to handle.
"Even if we're leaving the town," said Lawrence, "we'll need a travel plan."
"A-a travel plan, you say?!" Her expression was complicated; it seemed Holo was less and less certain of exactly why she was yelling at Lawrence.
"It wouldn't be good to charge out of town on some vague notion."
"Some...vague notion? Do you not wish to recover our profit from that vixen?" Holo's face was suddenly very close to Lawrence's as she confronted him, but because of the height difference, she was unavoidably looking up.
It would be easy to think she was drawing near him for an embrace, but Lawrence was sure that if he suggested as much, he'd be hurled from the window.
"The vixen—ah, you mean Eve. And the profit—"
"We must get it back! She swindled you and made off with the coin! We must get our due!"
"As in the gold before?" said Lawrence, at which Holo nodded.
After nodding, she looked down, no doubt because her mask of anger was slipping and needed to be replaced.
Previously Lawrence had been completely and utterly betrayed.
But this time things were not so clear.
True, Eve had lured Lawrence into a trap, but part of the blame for that lay with Lawrence for not realizing it sooner.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | For Arold, the master of this inn, to do something like leaving these two craftsmen to watch over his place while he was out, Lawrence could think of only one possibility: It had to be because of Eve, whose plan for fur trading was so dangerous that not even Lawrence could be party to it. Arold must have headed downriver with her. While Eve's goal was the port town of Kerube, Arold was probably taking his pilgrimage south.
Arold had never talked about himself very much, so Lawrence didn't know exactly what it was that could spur him to such action. Eve seemed quite familiar with him, so perhaps there was something in their shared past that led them to a mutual understanding.
In the same way that one had nostalgia for one's hometown, no place was so comforting as a house one had become used to living in.
The inn was darkened with age, and the sediment of passing time had accumulated within its walls, which had once contained the leather strap tannery where Arold had worked as master.
It would take something significant indeed to make him abandon all that and head south on pilgrimage.
Would he count on Eve to handle traveling expenses and to act as a guide for the difficult journey?
Just as Holo had lived for many years and experienced much, Arold's life had not been a short one.
What someone valued, and how he or she conducted his or her judgments, varied from person to person.
Weighing that value on the balance of the world and testing which way the scales tipped was life itself—and so Lawrence had gone to see Holo at the Delink Company.
Having let Holo pull him bodily into and out of the room, he now pulled back. Holo turned to face him.
"There's something I'd like to ask you," he said.
Holo had not been expecting Lawrence to pull away, and as she looked at him, her expression was so simple it was funny—her earlier fierceness had peeled away, revealing her true feelings.
She seemed both upset and strangely resolute.
In a word, she was lost.
As to what it was that had her so confused, Lawrence could hazard a guess.
"What do you plan to do next?" he asked.
But that was that. As soon as Lawrence voiced his question, Holo, who was also called the wisewolf, regained her composure.
"What shall I do, you ask?"
Her tone was such that Lawrence would have been hardly surprised to hear her follow up by saying, I'll rip your throat out for asking, that's what I'll do.
Yet Lawrence didn't flinch, instead bringing up his hand—which still held Holo's—and brushing a red speck from the corner of her mouth with his knuckle.
No doubt it was a fleck of dried blood from Lawrence's own face.
Her expression seemed angry, but even at a glance, it was clear that her mask was slipping.
She was angry at herself.
Her own feelings were too much for her to handle.
"Even if we're leaving the town," said Lawrence, "we'll need a travel plan."
"A-a travel plan, you say?!" Her expression was complicated; it seemed Holo was less and less certain of exactly why she was yelling at Lawrence.
"It wouldn't be good to charge out of town on some vague notion."
"Some...vague notion? Do you not wish to recover our profit from that vixen?" Holo's face was suddenly very close to Lawrence's as she confronted him, but because of the height difference, she was unavoidably looking up.
It would be easy to think she was drawing near him for an embrace, but Lawrence was sure that if he suggested as much, he'd be hurled from the window.
"The vixen—ah, you mean Eve. And the profit—"
"We must get it back! She swindled you and made off with the coin! We must get our due!"
"As in the gold before?" said Lawrence, at which Holo nodded.
After nodding, she looked down, no doubt because her mask of anger was slipping and needed to be replaced.
Previously Lawrence had been completely and utterly betrayed.
But this time things were not so clear.
True, Eve had lured Lawrence into a trap, but part of the blame for that lay with Lawrence for not realizing it sooner.
| In reality, Lawrence had backed out of Eve's suicidally dangerous plan.
She was going up against the town's church, and Lawrence highly doubted that the church would choose to overlook the offense—though at the moment, Lenos's church surely had its hands full, trying to gain control over a more violent uprising than it could ever have expected.
And Eve would not be the only one taking furs downriver for her own profit. The briefest glance at the port made that much obvious.
Things had not gone as the church had planned, and it could not easily do as it pleased with Eve. The church was no doubt thinking to leave her be, instead dealing with the affair in Lenos.
Thus it was hard to imagine that it would try to capture her or her accomplice in fur trading—that is to say, Lawrence.
All this meant that Eve's gamble had paid off. She had won.
Lawrence now wondered if he had the right to claim a share of the profit.
He'd pulled out his support and reclaimed Holo. It didn't make any sense for him to then go and demand a cut of the gain.
The ever-wise Holo must have also long since realized this—yet she still spoke of reclaiming their share.
Moreover, Holo was angry at herself—angry at her own selfishness.
Whence came that selfishness? Lawrence asked himself.
The answer was obvious, and it made Lawrence very happy.
"I-I mean, are you not frustrated? She's gotten away from us!" Holo said quickly to change the subject, knowing full well that if pressed, she would be at a loss for words.
Lawrence turned his head askance and nodded.
He tried his best to make it look as though he was giving in to Holo's insistence.
"That is true, yes. But in terms of practical problems that face us, there is a significant one."
"...What do you mean?"
He couldn't voice his true thoughts, but drawing a veil of lies over the exchange wouldn't help either of them trust each other, either.
Both of them were stubborn, so this would have to do: "Eve surely constructed her plan with care. Mere happenstance would never have let her find a ship so quickly. She must have made arrangements in advance. Given that, I highly doubt we can immediately set off after her. Even if we wanted to follow her on horseback, the stables will be as chaotic as the rest of the town is."
"What of your horse, then?"
"Him? He's strong, to be sure, but there's no telling how well he'd do if we made him run over a long distance. Horses bred for speed are nothing like draft horses," said Lawrence. Holo looked down, evidently deep in thought.
Lawrence, of course, did not point out the obvious—which was that just as Holo had suggested back at the Delink Company, if she assumed her wolf form, they could travel faster than anything else.
"What's more, Eve spoke as though she had already arranged a buyer downriver in Kerube. Eve was discussing plans with the assumption that the church would give chase, so she no doubt already has an escape plan prepared."
None of this was exaggeration.
Plausible escape paths could be divided into transoceanic routes and overland routes. If she fled by sea rather than land, there would be no way to catch her.
Depending on the destination and given favorable weather, sea travel could be as much as five times faster than land.
It would be difficult to catch her, even for Holo.
"P-perhaps that is so, but I still cannot accept it. I'll not be satisfied unless we give chase," insisted Holo, despite her flagging enthusiasm.
Even if half of Holo's fixation on following Eve was based on a grudge she carried, the other half was certainly not.
And that was why she was so angry with herself.
Holo had said she wanted to end her travels with Lawrence.
Her reasoning was that they got along too well, that she was afraid of the joy they shared weathering and crumbling away.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | In reality, Lawrence had backed out of Eve's suicidally dangerous plan.
She was going up against the town's church, and Lawrence highly doubted that the church would choose to overlook the offense—though at the moment, Lenos's church surely had its hands full, trying to gain control over a more violent uprising than it could ever have expected.
And Eve would not be the only one taking furs downriver for her own profit. The briefest glance at the port made that much obvious.
Things had not gone as the church had planned, and it could not easily do as it pleased with Eve. The church was no doubt thinking to leave her be, instead dealing with the affair in Lenos.
Thus it was hard to imagine that it would try to capture her or her accomplice in fur trading—that is to say, Lawrence.
All this meant that Eve's gamble had paid off. She had won.
Lawrence now wondered if he had the right to claim a share of the profit.
He'd pulled out his support and reclaimed Holo. It didn't make any sense for him to then go and demand a cut of the gain.
The ever-wise Holo must have also long since realized this—yet she still spoke of reclaiming their share.
Moreover, Holo was angry at herself—angry at her own selfishness.
Whence came that selfishness? Lawrence asked himself.
The answer was obvious, and it made Lawrence very happy.
"I-I mean, are you not frustrated? She's gotten away from us!" Holo said quickly to change the subject, knowing full well that if pressed, she would be at a loss for words.
Lawrence turned his head askance and nodded.
He tried his best to make it look as though he was giving in to Holo's insistence.
"That is true, yes. But in terms of practical problems that face us, there is a significant one."
"...What do you mean?"
He couldn't voice his true thoughts, but drawing a veil of lies over the exchange wouldn't help either of them trust each other, either.
Both of them were stubborn, so this would have to do: "Eve surely constructed her plan with care. Mere happenstance would never have let her find a ship so quickly. She must have made arrangements in advance. Given that, I highly doubt we can immediately set off after her. Even if we wanted to follow her on horseback, the stables will be as chaotic as the rest of the town is."
"What of your horse, then?"
"Him? He's strong, to be sure, but there's no telling how well he'd do if we made him run over a long distance. Horses bred for speed are nothing like draft horses," said Lawrence. Holo looked down, evidently deep in thought.
Lawrence, of course, did not point out the obvious—which was that just as Holo had suggested back at the Delink Company, if she assumed her wolf form, they could travel faster than anything else.
"What's more, Eve spoke as though she had already arranged a buyer downriver in Kerube. Eve was discussing plans with the assumption that the church would give chase, so she no doubt already has an escape plan prepared."
None of this was exaggeration.
Plausible escape paths could be divided into transoceanic routes and overland routes. If she fled by sea rather than land, there would be no way to catch her.
Depending on the destination and given favorable weather, sea travel could be as much as five times faster than land.
It would be difficult to catch her, even for Holo.
"P-perhaps that is so, but I still cannot accept it. I'll not be satisfied unless we give chase," insisted Holo, despite her flagging enthusiasm.
Even if half of Holo's fixation on following Eve was based on a grudge she carried, the other half was certainly not.
And that was why she was so angry with herself.
Holo had said she wanted to end her travels with Lawrence.
Her reasoning was that they got along too well, that she was afraid of the joy they shared weathering and crumbling away.
| Naturally there was always that temptation to keep prolonging their travels, even knowing it would come to naught in the end—just as Lawrence sometimes drank too much, despite knowing he would regret it the next morning. And in such a case, he found himself unable to deny the possibility that Holo's fears would come true.
But at the very least, he wanted to go with Holo as far as her homeland—so he had gone back to the Delink Company to fetch her.
And now, having said all that, despite what they might wish, there was one obvious thing that remained unsaid between them.
This was a detour that would extend their time together.
"I understand why you wouldn't be satisfied by that..."
"I'm right, am I not?" Holo's face was at once angry and pleased.
Lawrence found himself impressed that such an expression existed.
"And it's true that this is a net loss so far..."
When Eve decided she had to terminate her agreement with Lawrence, she'd left behind the deed to the inn in which he and Holo now stood. When Lawrence had used Holo as collateral to borrow money, the amount he borrowed was very nearly equivalent to the value of the inn.
But it had come a little short.
The Delink Company's original goal had been to strengthen their relationship with the noble Eve, and having accomplished that, Lawrence doubted they would quibble over the minor discrepancy—and he was right.
Yet when would that lingering debt be called in—and where and how? It made doing business frightening.
Even if it took some time, Lawrence wanted to repay what debt remained.
Which meant he was right now in the red.
Of course, the debt was not outside the realm of what could be forgiven, and when Holo heard this, she perked up, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Aye. And she drew blood from you, do not forget! I'll make her understand that when one harms my companion, they harm me!"
It was only with effort that Lawrence restrained himself from asking her just who it was who had struck him hard in the face in a fit of passion earlier.
"So it's pursuit, is it?"
"Aye. My first hunt in quite some time," Holo said with a grin.
Her smile lacked its usual grim quality, perhaps because both of them were trying their best to smooth things over so they could extend their travels with a detour.
After the affair in the wheat village of Tereo, both Holo and Lawrence had confessed to wishing their journey would continue.
Now that he thought about it, it was a rather naive wish—but that was all in the past now.
People's hearts change.
The only thing that didn't change was the ever-dishonest repartee he shared with Holo.
"Don't forget, though—," began Lawrence, at which Holo looked up at him, her expression serious. "—I am a merchant. I have my pride and my honor, but I'm not some knight who earns money only to bring himself fame. If it seems as though this will only worsen my losses, we'll pursue her no further. Do you understand?"
If it would lengthen his travels with Holo, Lawrence would put off doing business until the summer of next year, but if it took any longer than that, problems would start popping up. Business was conducted in the service of mutual gain between parties, so if Lawrence alone was the only one ready to deal, nothing would come of it.
Of course, it would be a different story if only Holo would say that she wanted to travel with him forever.
"I do this only for you," said Holo. "So long as you are satisfied...aye. It cannot be helped."
Her words were strange, but Lawrence nodded. "I appreciate it," he said by way of thanks to an oddly considerate Holo.
Holo's ears flicked up beneath her hood, either because of the ridiculousness of the exchange or out of happiness at having fought the good fight in service of drawing out their travels a little longer.
Actually it was probably both.
"Well then, how shall we go about this pursuit?" said Lawrence.
"How? Will we not go by wagon?" asked Holo.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Naturally there was always that temptation to keep prolonging their travels, even knowing it would come to naught in the end—just as Lawrence sometimes drank too much, despite knowing he would regret it the next morning. And in such a case, he found himself unable to deny the possibility that Holo's fears would come true.
But at the very least, he wanted to go with Holo as far as her homeland—so he had gone back to the Delink Company to fetch her.
And now, having said all that, despite what they might wish, there was one obvious thing that remained unsaid between them.
This was a detour that would extend their time together.
"I understand why you wouldn't be satisfied by that..."
"I'm right, am I not?" Holo's face was at once angry and pleased.
Lawrence found himself impressed that such an expression existed.
"And it's true that this is a net loss so far..."
When Eve decided she had to terminate her agreement with Lawrence, she'd left behind the deed to the inn in which he and Holo now stood. When Lawrence had used Holo as collateral to borrow money, the amount he borrowed was very nearly equivalent to the value of the inn.
But it had come a little short.
The Delink Company's original goal had been to strengthen their relationship with the noble Eve, and having accomplished that, Lawrence doubted they would quibble over the minor discrepancy—and he was right.
Yet when would that lingering debt be called in—and where and how? It made doing business frightening.
Even if it took some time, Lawrence wanted to repay what debt remained.
Which meant he was right now in the red.
Of course, the debt was not outside the realm of what could be forgiven, and when Holo heard this, she perked up, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Aye. And she drew blood from you, do not forget! I'll make her understand that when one harms my companion, they harm me!"
It was only with effort that Lawrence restrained himself from asking her just who it was who had struck him hard in the face in a fit of passion earlier.
"So it's pursuit, is it?"
"Aye. My first hunt in quite some time," Holo said with a grin.
Her smile lacked its usual grim quality, perhaps because both of them were trying their best to smooth things over so they could extend their travels with a detour.
After the affair in the wheat village of Tereo, both Holo and Lawrence had confessed to wishing their journey would continue.
Now that he thought about it, it was a rather naive wish—but that was all in the past now.
People's hearts change.
The only thing that didn't change was the ever-dishonest repartee he shared with Holo.
"Don't forget, though—," began Lawrence, at which Holo looked up at him, her expression serious. "—I am a merchant. I have my pride and my honor, but I'm not some knight who earns money only to bring himself fame. If it seems as though this will only worsen my losses, we'll pursue her no further. Do you understand?"
If it would lengthen his travels with Holo, Lawrence would put off doing business until the summer of next year, but if it took any longer than that, problems would start popping up. Business was conducted in the service of mutual gain between parties, so if Lawrence alone was the only one ready to deal, nothing would come of it.
Of course, it would be a different story if only Holo would say that she wanted to travel with him forever.
"I do this only for you," said Holo. "So long as you are satisfied...aye. It cannot be helped."
Her words were strange, but Lawrence nodded. "I appreciate it," he said by way of thanks to an oddly considerate Holo.
Holo's ears flicked up beneath her hood, either because of the ridiculousness of the exchange or out of happiness at having fought the good fight in service of drawing out their travels a little longer.
Actually it was probably both.
"Well then, how shall we go about this pursuit?" said Lawrence.
"How? Will we not go by wagon?" asked Holo.
| When they'd finally arrived in this town, Holo had been so tired from travel that it made her unpleasant to be around.
Embarking again on a long, frigid journey would be exhausting, and Lawrence himself did not find the prospect appealing.
Unsurprisingly, Holo's face immediately darkened. "Ugh...five days on the wagon..."
"There are a scattering of villages between here and there—and inns, too, but they're far from luxurious."
Churches would have made the most attractive places to stay on a trip like this, but unfortunately this was one region where churches were hard to find.
The only options would be meager inns or homes and shops that took boarders as a sideline.
Lawrence did not relish the prospect of sleeping in a dusty, grimy inn next to a man that might well be a brigand or bandit.
"W-well, if that's so, then what of the river?"
"The river?"
"Aye. If that vixen escaped by the river, we ought follow her. 'Tis the most obvious course."
That meant taking a ship. Lawrence cocked his head as he remembered the state of the docks as Holo had dragged him past them.
Would it be possible for a couple of travelers to easily board a ship heading downriver?
"Well, that depends on whether there's a ship—," began Lawrence honestly, but Holo waved her hand (which still held Lawrence's) impatiently.
"Not 'whether'! We will find one!"
Lawrence stared at Holo as if to say, "Don't be unreasonable," but her eyes only glittered strangely.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Lawrence tried to escape.
But Holo only cornered him again. "Or is my plan...too much trouble?"
This time she really was looking up at him imploringly.
"If 'tis too much of a bother, do please say so. 'Tis only for your sake that I wish to track down that vixen, but...I know that from time to time, I do act a bit rashly. Come now," said Holo, taking Lawrence's hand and clasping it to her breast.
He was glad she was back to her usual self, but it made her all the more formidable.
After all, she had acquired a new weapon.
"I was so happy, you see," said Holo, her tone suddenly soft and her eyes now downcast.
Alas! thought Lawrence to himself as he gazed at her terrifying mien.
"I was so happy, yes—happy that you said you loved me. So please—"
"Fine, fine! We'll find a boat and head downriver! Will that be enough?"
Holo wore an expression of exaggerated surprise, then smiled broadly.
She brought his hand from her breast to her lips, as if to kiss it, but then her sharp teeth glinted from behind those lips.
Lawrence had lost this contest, it was safe to say.
It was no exaggeration to call this an unavoidably desperate strategy, but there is always a reward for those willing to put such a desperate strategy into action.
And so it was.
He had spoken plainly to Holo.
It was precisely because he had been so honest that opposing her was now impossible.
It was as though he had handed her a completely unsecured contract sealed in blood.
With that in hand as she grinned, all she needed to do was pretend at using it to defeat him, and Lawrence could only flinch away.
After all, what was written on that contract was the truth.
"Well then, shall we hurry and pack our things?" Holo asked, lowering her hand.
"...What?" Lawrence asked back.
"We are going to the trouble of traveling by ship," replied Holo, her face serious. "Do you not wish to eat some wheaten bread first?"
Lawrence flatly rejected the notion.
Holo protested violently, but Lawrence was unmoved.
She might have a grip upon his reins, but his purse strings were still his own. "Did I not just explain that we've taken a loss?"
"All the more reason, then! If we're already in the red, we may as well drive the figure up!"
"What sort of reasoning is that?!" said Lawrence.
Holo's lip curled as she sneered. "I thought you loved me."
Even the strongest weapon, if overused, could be defended against.
"Aye, that's true. But I also love money," replied Lawrence seriously.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | When they'd finally arrived in this town, Holo had been so tired from travel that it made her unpleasant to be around.
Embarking again on a long, frigid journey would be exhausting, and Lawrence himself did not find the prospect appealing.
Unsurprisingly, Holo's face immediately darkened. "Ugh...five days on the wagon..."
"There are a scattering of villages between here and there—and inns, too, but they're far from luxurious."
Churches would have made the most attractive places to stay on a trip like this, but unfortunately this was one region where churches were hard to find.
The only options would be meager inns or homes and shops that took boarders as a sideline.
Lawrence did not relish the prospect of sleeping in a dusty, grimy inn next to a man that might well be a brigand or bandit.
"W-well, if that's so, then what of the river?"
"The river?"
"Aye. If that vixen escaped by the river, we ought follow her. 'Tis the most obvious course."
That meant taking a ship. Lawrence cocked his head as he remembered the state of the docks as Holo had dragged him past them.
Would it be possible for a couple of travelers to easily board a ship heading downriver?
"Well, that depends on whether there's a ship—," began Lawrence honestly, but Holo waved her hand (which still held Lawrence's) impatiently.
"Not 'whether'! We will find one!"
Lawrence stared at Holo as if to say, "Don't be unreasonable," but her eyes only glittered strangely.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Lawrence tried to escape.
But Holo only cornered him again. "Or is my plan...too much trouble?"
This time she really was looking up at him imploringly.
"If 'tis too much of a bother, do please say so. 'Tis only for your sake that I wish to track down that vixen, but...I know that from time to time, I do act a bit rashly. Come now," said Holo, taking Lawrence's hand and clasping it to her breast.
He was glad she was back to her usual self, but it made her all the more formidable.
After all, she had acquired a new weapon.
"I was so happy, you see," said Holo, her tone suddenly soft and her eyes now downcast.
Alas! thought Lawrence to himself as he gazed at her terrifying mien.
"I was so happy, yes—happy that you said you loved me. So please—"
"Fine, fine! We'll find a boat and head downriver! Will that be enough?"
Holo wore an expression of exaggerated surprise, then smiled broadly.
She brought his hand from her breast to her lips, as if to kiss it, but then her sharp teeth glinted from behind those lips.
Lawrence had lost this contest, it was safe to say.
It was no exaggeration to call this an unavoidably desperate strategy, but there is always a reward for those willing to put such a desperate strategy into action.
And so it was.
He had spoken plainly to Holo.
It was precisely because he had been so honest that opposing her was now impossible.
It was as though he had handed her a completely unsecured contract sealed in blood.
With that in hand as she grinned, all she needed to do was pretend at using it to defeat him, and Lawrence could only flinch away.
After all, what was written on that contract was the truth.
"Well then, shall we hurry and pack our things?" Holo asked, lowering her hand.
"...What?" Lawrence asked back.
"We are going to the trouble of traveling by ship," replied Holo, her face serious. "Do you not wish to eat some wheaten bread first?"
Lawrence flatly rejected the notion.
Holo protested violently, but Lawrence was unmoved.
She might have a grip upon his reins, but his purse strings were still his own. "Did I not just explain that we've taken a loss?"
"All the more reason, then! If we're already in the red, we may as well drive the figure up!"
"What sort of reasoning is that?!" said Lawrence.
Holo's lip curled as she sneered. "I thought you loved me."
Even the strongest weapon, if overused, could be defended against.
"Aye, that's true. But I also love money," replied Lawrence seriously.
| ***
Ahoy there, you fool! Pull in that prow! I'm carrying silver from Imidra!"
"What's that? We were here first! You pull in your prow!"
Angry shouts echoed constantly across the water as hulls collided and sent sprays of water into the air.
Lenos's harbor buzzed like an angry beehive. Lawrence heard a shout that might have been a war cry or might have been a death howl, followed by the sound of something splashing into the water.
The normally calm surface of the water was constantly disturbed by waves.
And there amid the angry cries of horses and men, ships fought to leave the harbor ahead of one another, each no doubt loaded heavy with furs. Any boat that could normally take a single rower was being hired out as a special express.
It was easy to understand, though—in any business, the biggest profits were always realized by the first to arrive.
But Lawrence regarded their struggles with cold eyes.
The first to arrive would be a certain fallen noblewoman bearing thousands of silver pieces' worth of furs.
"Come, do not stand there gawping—we must find a ship!"
"I suppose it's a bit late to ask, but are you quite all right aboard a ship?"
Given the situation, it would take some luck to find a vessel that was willing to take on a couple of casual passengers. The line of ships waiting to exit the harbor was like an ant trail.
"You were the one who said the wagon would take too much time and be too much trouble."
"Well, yes, but..."
Lawrence couldn't see anything, but loud voices seemed to be coming from the place where the harbor exited to the river.
It seemed likely that those who wanted to stop the flow of furs from the town were trying to seal off the port.
***
"What?" Lawrence asked.
"You're in no hurry to board."
"No, that's not it."
Even a child could tell he was lying. Holo raised one eyebrow as she glared at him. "Well, then let us find a vessel."
Since it had been quickly apparent that finding a craft that could take a horse downriver would be difficult, Lawrence had left his horse at a vacant stable whose beasts had all been rented out. The wagon he rented out at the docks through a connection of the stable master's.
Like it or not, they would no longer be traveling by wagon.
And as the port town of Kerube would be crawling with merchants passing the winter there, he might well be able to do some business there.
Oh well, Lawrence murmured inwardly. "Fine, fine. I'll go find a boat. You go pick up some food from that stall over there. Three days' worth should be enough. And wine—the stronger the better."
He handed Holo two glimmering silver pieces from his coin purse.
"And what of wheat bread?"
Holo had a good grasp of the market and knew that the amount she'd been given wouldn't buy wheat bread.
"Bread needs yeast to make it rise. So, too, does money to buy that bread."
***
Wheat bread had been out of the question after the conversation in the inn.
Though Holo gave a frustrated nod, her frustration was not especially deep.
She quickly looked up again. "Why then the strong liquor?"
Evidently she had figured out that Lawrence generally preferred wine that was easy to drink. It made him happy that she was remembering his likes and dislikes and not only at the tailors' and cobblers' shops.
His reply, though, was brief; he did not let his pleasure show. "You'll understand soon enough."
Holo stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed pleased as she smacked his arm. Surely she had misunderstood. "I'll haggle them down and be sure to load up on the good stuff, then, eh?"
"We don't need it in volume."
"Aye. Shall we meet back up somewhere around there?"
"Yes...ouch—!" Lawrence nodded, but the movement caused the swelling where Eve had struck him to suddenly throb with pain.
He was just agonizing over whether he should have a medicine or salve mixed for it when he noticed Holo's expression and thought better of it.
She was worried about him—perhaps it was better that way.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | ***
Ahoy there, you fool! Pull in that prow! I'm carrying silver from Imidra!"
"What's that? We were here first! You pull in your prow!"
Angry shouts echoed constantly across the water as hulls collided and sent sprays of water into the air.
Lenos's harbor buzzed like an angry beehive. Lawrence heard a shout that might have been a war cry or might have been a death howl, followed by the sound of something splashing into the water.
The normally calm surface of the water was constantly disturbed by waves.
And there amid the angry cries of horses and men, ships fought to leave the harbor ahead of one another, each no doubt loaded heavy with furs. Any boat that could normally take a single rower was being hired out as a special express.
It was easy to understand, though—in any business, the biggest profits were always realized by the first to arrive.
But Lawrence regarded their struggles with cold eyes.
The first to arrive would be a certain fallen noblewoman bearing thousands of silver pieces' worth of furs.
"Come, do not stand there gawping—we must find a ship!"
"I suppose it's a bit late to ask, but are you quite all right aboard a ship?"
Given the situation, it would take some luck to find a vessel that was willing to take on a couple of casual passengers. The line of ships waiting to exit the harbor was like an ant trail.
"You were the one who said the wagon would take too much time and be too much trouble."
"Well, yes, but..."
Lawrence couldn't see anything, but loud voices seemed to be coming from the place where the harbor exited to the river.
It seemed likely that those who wanted to stop the flow of furs from the town were trying to seal off the port.
***
"What?" Lawrence asked.
"You're in no hurry to board."
"No, that's not it."
Even a child could tell he was lying. Holo raised one eyebrow as she glared at him. "Well, then let us find a vessel."
Since it had been quickly apparent that finding a craft that could take a horse downriver would be difficult, Lawrence had left his horse at a vacant stable whose beasts had all been rented out. The wagon he rented out at the docks through a connection of the stable master's.
Like it or not, they would no longer be traveling by wagon.
And as the port town of Kerube would be crawling with merchants passing the winter there, he might well be able to do some business there.
Oh well, Lawrence murmured inwardly. "Fine, fine. I'll go find a boat. You go pick up some food from that stall over there. Three days' worth should be enough. And wine—the stronger the better."
He handed Holo two glimmering silver pieces from his coin purse.
"And what of wheat bread?"
Holo had a good grasp of the market and knew that the amount she'd been given wouldn't buy wheat bread.
"Bread needs yeast to make it rise. So, too, does money to buy that bread."
***
Wheat bread had been out of the question after the conversation in the inn.
Though Holo gave a frustrated nod, her frustration was not especially deep.
She quickly looked up again. "Why then the strong liquor?"
Evidently she had figured out that Lawrence generally preferred wine that was easy to drink. It made him happy that she was remembering his likes and dislikes and not only at the tailors' and cobblers' shops.
His reply, though, was brief; he did not let his pleasure show. "You'll understand soon enough."
Holo stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed pleased as she smacked his arm. Surely she had misunderstood. "I'll haggle them down and be sure to load up on the good stuff, then, eh?"
"We don't need it in volume."
"Aye. Shall we meet back up somewhere around there?"
"Yes...ouch—!" Lawrence nodded, but the movement caused the swelling where Eve had struck him to suddenly throb with pain.
He was just agonizing over whether he should have a medicine or salve mixed for it when he noticed Holo's expression and thought better of it.
She was worried about him—perhaps it was better that way.
| "I was taught as a child that honesty is a virtue."
"And do you really think so?" Holo gave him a bright, guileless smile and cocked her head.
"I suppose my master also taught me that honesty is a fool's errand."
Holo chuckled through her nose, then teased, "So much so that I can't help making fun of you." She spun about with a dancer's grace, then walked off into the crowd.
Lawrence slumped and sighed, scratching his head.
A smile rose to his lips; these tête-à-têtes were a joy, it was true.
And yet, he thought, will I never regain the upper hand, I wonder?
He was confident he could at least get back the deed that had been swindled away, but that seemed like sour grapes.
I love you.
It had been only a short while ago, yet already the moment when he'd faced Holo and spoken those words seemed like the distant past. Thinking back on it, Lawrence was tormented by some nameless feeling.
The strange emotion made his face twitch and his breathing labored.
And yet—it was not a bad feeling.
The elusive thing had a definite sense of calmness, of peace about it.
It was only a bit—no, a good bit—embarrassing; the bit of regret he felt probably came from having lost the contest.
"What contest?" he asked himself with a derisive smile, looking in the direction in which Holo had disappeared.
He shrugged and sighed, then walked in the direction of the pier.
Lawrence soon found a ship, which was possibly fortunate and certainly unexpected.
Though the port was jammed with people desperate to send out a vessel, when Lawrence calmed himself and looked more closely, he saw that there were many ships loading up cargo per the usual routine, and when he called out to one, he received a ready reply. With every ship being so busy, Lawrence expected the fares to be exorbitant, but they were actually quite reasonable.
Lawrence pretended not to notice the tension melt away from the aged captain's face when he mentioned his female companion.
He understood why Eve went to such efforts to hide her face and her sex when doing business.
"Still, what business could you have in Kerube? No respectable boat will be headed there in this season."
The captain had the unfamiliar name of Ibn Ragusa and explained that he was from a poor, chilly village at the northern end of the western coastline.
By repute, people from the far north were lean and snow tanned, taciturn and keen eyed, but Ragusa was round and effusive with a complexion more ruddy than tan.
"Unsurprisingly, it has to do with the fur trade."
"Oh?" Ragusa looked Lawrence up and down skeptically, cocking his head, his neck imperceptible between beefy shoulders. "You don't look like you have any cargo."
"My onetime business partner made off with it." Lawrence pointed to the still-swollen part of his face. Ragusa laughed with gusto, his face looking for all the world like a puffer fish.
He slapped Lawrence's shoulder as if to say such things happen, then asked, "So, where is this companion of yours?"
"Ah, she's off buying rations—," Lawrence began, turning in the direction of the row of venders—but then he felt a presence at his side.
There was Holo, standing as though she had been there for years.
"—And here she is."
"Oh ho! Such a fine cargo!" boomed Ragusa with a clap of his hands, so loudly that Holo's shoulders flinched.
Sailors, as a rule, were a loud-voiced lot.
Too loud, no doubt, for Holo, whose hearing was so keen she could hear the sound of someone furrowing his brow.
"By the by, what's her name?"
Perhaps thinking they were a married couple, Ragusa asked Lawrence rather than inquiring of Holo directly.
In any case, he was nothing like the moneychanger that had once tried to seduce Holo immediately upon meeting her.
A bag holding bread or the like hung from Holo's shoulder, and under an arm, she carried a small cask. Looking every inch the apprentice nun returning from an errand, she looked up at Lawrence.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I was taught as a child that honesty is a virtue."
"And do you really think so?" Holo gave him a bright, guileless smile and cocked her head.
"I suppose my master also taught me that honesty is a fool's errand."
Holo chuckled through her nose, then teased, "So much so that I can't help making fun of you." She spun about with a dancer's grace, then walked off into the crowd.
Lawrence slumped and sighed, scratching his head.
A smile rose to his lips; these tête-à-têtes were a joy, it was true.
And yet, he thought, will I never regain the upper hand, I wonder?
He was confident he could at least get back the deed that had been swindled away, but that seemed like sour grapes.
I love you.
It had been only a short while ago, yet already the moment when he'd faced Holo and spoken those words seemed like the distant past. Thinking back on it, Lawrence was tormented by some nameless feeling.
The strange emotion made his face twitch and his breathing labored.
And yet—it was not a bad feeling.
The elusive thing had a definite sense of calmness, of peace about it.
It was only a bit—no, a good bit—embarrassing; the bit of regret he felt probably came from having lost the contest.
"What contest?" he asked himself with a derisive smile, looking in the direction in which Holo had disappeared.
He shrugged and sighed, then walked in the direction of the pier.
Lawrence soon found a ship, which was possibly fortunate and certainly unexpected.
Though the port was jammed with people desperate to send out a vessel, when Lawrence calmed himself and looked more closely, he saw that there were many ships loading up cargo per the usual routine, and when he called out to one, he received a ready reply. With every ship being so busy, Lawrence expected the fares to be exorbitant, but they were actually quite reasonable.
Lawrence pretended not to notice the tension melt away from the aged captain's face when he mentioned his female companion.
He understood why Eve went to such efforts to hide her face and her sex when doing business.
"Still, what business could you have in Kerube? No respectable boat will be headed there in this season."
The captain had the unfamiliar name of Ibn Ragusa and explained that he was from a poor, chilly village at the northern end of the western coastline.
By repute, people from the far north were lean and snow tanned, taciturn and keen eyed, but Ragusa was round and effusive with a complexion more ruddy than tan.
"Unsurprisingly, it has to do with the fur trade."
"Oh?" Ragusa looked Lawrence up and down skeptically, cocking his head, his neck imperceptible between beefy shoulders. "You don't look like you have any cargo."
"My onetime business partner made off with it." Lawrence pointed to the still-swollen part of his face. Ragusa laughed with gusto, his face looking for all the world like a puffer fish.
He slapped Lawrence's shoulder as if to say such things happen, then asked, "So, where is this companion of yours?"
"Ah, she's off buying rations—," Lawrence began, turning in the direction of the row of venders—but then he felt a presence at his side.
There was Holo, standing as though she had been there for years.
"—And here she is."
"Oh ho! Such a fine cargo!" boomed Ragusa with a clap of his hands, so loudly that Holo's shoulders flinched.
Sailors, as a rule, were a loud-voiced lot.
Too loud, no doubt, for Holo, whose hearing was so keen she could hear the sound of someone furrowing his brow.
"By the by, what's her name?"
Perhaps thinking they were a married couple, Ragusa asked Lawrence rather than inquiring of Holo directly.
In any case, he was nothing like the moneychanger that had once tried to seduce Holo immediately upon meeting her.
A bag holding bread or the like hung from Holo's shoulder, and under an arm, she carried a small cask. Looking every inch the apprentice nun returning from an errand, she looked up at Lawrence.
| "It's Holo."
"Ho! A fine name! Pleased to meet you. I'm Ragusa, master of the Roam River!"
Any man would be eager to boast in front of such a comely maiden.
Ragusa spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world for such a girl to be traveling with Lawrence, and he extended his meaty, calloused hand out in greeting. "But this means we'll be sure to make the passage downriver safely, too!"
"Meaning...?"
Ragusa grinned and guffawed, patting Holo's slender shoulder. "The market's declared that it should be a beautiful maiden that's fitted to a ship's prow to pray for her safety!"
It was true that the prows of long-distance trading ships were generally decorated with a carving of a female figure.
Sometimes they represented a pagan goddess; other times, they were of a sainted woman from the Church's history. (Lawrence did have the sense that it was always a woman that watched over a ship, and ships were often given female names as well.)
Still, he felt like Holo was a bit out of her depth in this capacity—she was a wolf, better suited to hearing prayers for safe overland travel than any sort of waterborne voyage.
The image of Holo dog-paddling through the water came to mind; Lawrence couldn't help but smile slightly to himself.
"So, are you ready? We're not scheming to move fur like everybody else is, but we do have some cargo that needs to be hurried," said Ragusa.
"Ah, er, yes. Were you able to procure food?" Lawrence asked of Holo, who nodded.
Given that she was a wolf, Holo was awfully good at playing the innocent little lamb.
"Then go ahead and sit anywhere that's free. You'll pay up when we get there."
The custom of paying upon arrival was only tenable for water vessels—being surrounded by water made riding for free difficult.
"Just pretend you're riding on a great ship," finished Ragusa with a great laugh, every inch the sailor.
Among the vessels that plied the river, carrying cargo up and down it, Ragusa's was a bit on the small side.
It had no sails, and the bottom was flat—but despite that, the boat was rather slender and long. Had it been any narrower, it would have been easy for an inexperienced captain to accidentally capsize it.
Directly in the middle of the boat was a waist-high pile of burlap sacks, each of which was easily big enough to fit Holo inside. From their overflowing mouths, Lawrence could tell they were filled with wheat and legumes.
Directly astern of that pile were several wooden crates.
Since Lawrence could hardly open them up and peek inside, he couldn't say for sure what their contents were, but given the seals or crests that had been branded upon the crates—which were all of a similar size—he assumed they were relatively valuable. This was certainly the cargo that needed to be hurried. Like any merchant, Lawrence found himself curious about what they contained.
If the crates had been brought from farther upriver, they could contain ore out of a silver or copper mine or perhaps small-value coins minted near an iron mine and destined for export. Tin or iron wouldn't have been so carefully crated, and it would be equally strange to transport gemstones without so much as a single guard.
Owing to the low level of the river, the amount of cargo aboard the vessel was quite small relative to its capacity.
There was little rainfall during this season, and thanks to heavy snowfall in the mountains, the river's headwaters were frozen over. This caused the water level to drop and made it easier for a heavily laden boat to run aground. Just as a wagon's wheels could be easily mired in a muddy road on a rainy day, a boat running aground was a fact of life. In the worst of such cases, cargo would have to be thrown overboard, and worst of all, it was an obstruction to other shipping traffic, which could damage the reputation of the ship-master responsible.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "It's Holo."
"Ho! A fine name! Pleased to meet you. I'm Ragusa, master of the Roam River!"
Any man would be eager to boast in front of such a comely maiden.
Ragusa spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world for such a girl to be traveling with Lawrence, and he extended his meaty, calloused hand out in greeting. "But this means we'll be sure to make the passage downriver safely, too!"
"Meaning...?"
Ragusa grinned and guffawed, patting Holo's slender shoulder. "The market's declared that it should be a beautiful maiden that's fitted to a ship's prow to pray for her safety!"
It was true that the prows of long-distance trading ships were generally decorated with a carving of a female figure.
Sometimes they represented a pagan goddess; other times, they were of a sainted woman from the Church's history. (Lawrence did have the sense that it was always a woman that watched over a ship, and ships were often given female names as well.)
Still, he felt like Holo was a bit out of her depth in this capacity—she was a wolf, better suited to hearing prayers for safe overland travel than any sort of waterborne voyage.
The image of Holo dog-paddling through the water came to mind; Lawrence couldn't help but smile slightly to himself.
"So, are you ready? We're not scheming to move fur like everybody else is, but we do have some cargo that needs to be hurried," said Ragusa.
"Ah, er, yes. Were you able to procure food?" Lawrence asked of Holo, who nodded.
Given that she was a wolf, Holo was awfully good at playing the innocent little lamb.
"Then go ahead and sit anywhere that's free. You'll pay up when we get there."
The custom of paying upon arrival was only tenable for water vessels—being surrounded by water made riding for free difficult.
"Just pretend you're riding on a great ship," finished Ragusa with a great laugh, every inch the sailor.
Among the vessels that plied the river, carrying cargo up and down it, Ragusa's was a bit on the small side.
It had no sails, and the bottom was flat—but despite that, the boat was rather slender and long. Had it been any narrower, it would have been easy for an inexperienced captain to accidentally capsize it.
Directly in the middle of the boat was a waist-high pile of burlap sacks, each of which was easily big enough to fit Holo inside. From their overflowing mouths, Lawrence could tell they were filled with wheat and legumes.
Directly astern of that pile were several wooden crates.
Since Lawrence could hardly open them up and peek inside, he couldn't say for sure what their contents were, but given the seals or crests that had been branded upon the crates—which were all of a similar size—he assumed they were relatively valuable. This was certainly the cargo that needed to be hurried. Like any merchant, Lawrence found himself curious about what they contained.
If the crates had been brought from farther upriver, they could contain ore out of a silver or copper mine or perhaps small-value coins minted near an iron mine and destined for export. Tin or iron wouldn't have been so carefully crated, and it would be equally strange to transport gemstones without so much as a single guard.
Owing to the low level of the river, the amount of cargo aboard the vessel was quite small relative to its capacity.
There was little rainfall during this season, and thanks to heavy snowfall in the mountains, the river's headwaters were frozen over. This caused the water level to drop and made it easier for a heavily laden boat to run aground. Just as a wagon's wheels could be easily mired in a muddy road on a rainy day, a boat running aground was a fact of life. In the worst of such cases, cargo would have to be thrown overboard, and worst of all, it was an obstruction to other shipping traffic, which could damage the reputation of the ship-master responsible.
| So what of Ragusa?
Lawrence thought it over as he took a seat in an open space near the boat's prow, setting down the blankets and supplies he carried.
The surface of the water in the harbor sloshed drunkenly, and the boat's rocking was slight but constant. Lawrence hadn't felt the sensation in some time, and it made him nostalgic; he smiled ruefully. The first time he had ridden in a boat, he had been so afraid that it would flip that he had held tight to the vessel's edge.
Now it seemed as though he had not been exceptionally nervous.
He had to smile when he saw Holo edge ever so carefully up beside him to sit. She set down the cask of wine under her arm, unslung the bag of delicious-smelling food from her shoulder, then finally noticed Lawrence's gaze. She glared back at him.
"What's so funny?" she asked. Her low voice was no act.
"I was just thinking I used to be as nervous as you are."
"Mmph...I've no particular fear of water, but 'tis unsettling indeed when the craft rocks."
It was strange for her to so readily admit to being afraid.
She curled her lip, irritated at his obvious surprise. "It is because I trust you that I would admit weakness."
"I can see your teeth behind that sneer."
Once Lawrence had pointed it out, Holo quickly stifled her sneer, then smiled unpleasantly. It was certainly true that she had been scared, but admitting to that fear was pure calculation.
Lawrence didn't know if she was actually being agreeable or not.
The next instant, Holo straightened suddenly. "This won't do. I cannot start getting along with you now," she said, turning her head aside sadly. She had said before that no matter how enjoyable her time with Lawrence was, she was afraid of eventually tiring of it. Lawrence felt a shock, as though he had touched something very hot.
He soon corrected himself—Holo was not being so serious at this moment.
Even without bothering to ask, he knew what it was that they had to avoid. Knowing there were traps ahead but not knowing exactly where would make it hard to walk—but if one knew where the cliff's edge was, skirting along it was easy enough.
Venturing to say as much was neither cause for Holo to admonish herself, nor was it reason for Lawrence to be on guard.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
They would end their travels with a smile. Having promised each other that much, there was nothing to be afraid of.
Lawrence calmed himself and answered, "That sounds like a line out of a stage play."
He didn't say the rest of what he was thinking, which was that it sounded like a line out of a stage play about forbidden love.
In response, Holo—perhaps irritated at Lawrence's failure to be properly flustered—looked his way quickly. "Could you not just play along?"
"Not so long as your face is so malicious."
Holo's upturned eyes had given her face a desolate cast, but then she sniggered and clicked her tongue.
Lawrence smiled, at a loss—this wolf's expression could change awfully quickly.
Not a moment later, Ragusa came running down the pier, his footsteps banging loudly as he shouted in his characteristically booming voice, "Well then, let us be off!"
He quickly untied the boat from its mooring, then tossed the rope aboard, following it himself with a leap like a boy jumping into a river—no mean feat. Ragusa could hardly be called thin, even as rank flattery, and the boat heaved beneath the sudden weight, listing so far to one side that it seemed like it might capsize.
Even Lawrence was alarmed—to say nothing of Holo, whose body stiffened as her face turned serious.
Her hands gripped Lawrence's clothes tightly, and this was surely no joke.
"Watch the finest ship handling in three kingdoms!" said Ragusa mightily, thrusting a long pole into the water and heaving down on it, his ruddy face turning even redder.
At first the boat seemed not to respond to Ragusa's cry, but soon its stern slowly drew away from the wharf. Ragusa lightly raised the pole and, adjusting its direction, pushed down again.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | So what of Ragusa?
Lawrence thought it over as he took a seat in an open space near the boat's prow, setting down the blankets and supplies he carried.
The surface of the water in the harbor sloshed drunkenly, and the boat's rocking was slight but constant. Lawrence hadn't felt the sensation in some time, and it made him nostalgic; he smiled ruefully. The first time he had ridden in a boat, he had been so afraid that it would flip that he had held tight to the vessel's edge.
Now it seemed as though he had not been exceptionally nervous.
He had to smile when he saw Holo edge ever so carefully up beside him to sit. She set down the cask of wine under her arm, unslung the bag of delicious-smelling food from her shoulder, then finally noticed Lawrence's gaze. She glared back at him.
"What's so funny?" she asked. Her low voice was no act.
"I was just thinking I used to be as nervous as you are."
"Mmph...I've no particular fear of water, but 'tis unsettling indeed when the craft rocks."
It was strange for her to so readily admit to being afraid.
She curled her lip, irritated at his obvious surprise. "It is because I trust you that I would admit weakness."
"I can see your teeth behind that sneer."
Once Lawrence had pointed it out, Holo quickly stifled her sneer, then smiled unpleasantly. It was certainly true that she had been scared, but admitting to that fear was pure calculation.
Lawrence didn't know if she was actually being agreeable or not.
The next instant, Holo straightened suddenly. "This won't do. I cannot start getting along with you now," she said, turning her head aside sadly. She had said before that no matter how enjoyable her time with Lawrence was, she was afraid of eventually tiring of it. Lawrence felt a shock, as though he had touched something very hot.
He soon corrected himself—Holo was not being so serious at this moment.
Even without bothering to ask, he knew what it was that they had to avoid. Knowing there were traps ahead but not knowing exactly where would make it hard to walk—but if one knew where the cliff's edge was, skirting along it was easy enough.
Venturing to say as much was neither cause for Holo to admonish herself, nor was it reason for Lawrence to be on guard.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
They would end their travels with a smile. Having promised each other that much, there was nothing to be afraid of.
Lawrence calmed himself and answered, "That sounds like a line out of a stage play."
He didn't say the rest of what he was thinking, which was that it sounded like a line out of a stage play about forbidden love.
In response, Holo—perhaps irritated at Lawrence's failure to be properly flustered—looked his way quickly. "Could you not just play along?"
"Not so long as your face is so malicious."
Holo's upturned eyes had given her face a desolate cast, but then she sniggered and clicked her tongue.
Lawrence smiled, at a loss—this wolf's expression could change awfully quickly.
Not a moment later, Ragusa came running down the pier, his footsteps banging loudly as he shouted in his characteristically booming voice, "Well then, let us be off!"
He quickly untied the boat from its mooring, then tossed the rope aboard, following it himself with a leap like a boy jumping into a river—no mean feat. Ragusa could hardly be called thin, even as rank flattery, and the boat heaved beneath the sudden weight, listing so far to one side that it seemed like it might capsize.
Even Lawrence was alarmed—to say nothing of Holo, whose body stiffened as her face turned serious.
Her hands gripped Lawrence's clothes tightly, and this was surely no joke.
"Watch the finest ship handling in three kingdoms!" said Ragusa mightily, thrusting a long pole into the water and heaving down on it, his ruddy face turning even redder.
At first the boat seemed not to respond to Ragusa's cry, but soon its stern slowly drew away from the wharf. Ragusa lightly raised the pole and, adjusting its direction, pushed down again.
| Sailors were famous for their boasting, but Lawrence felt like he understood where it came from now.
Ragusa was moving the entire boat by himself, after all.
Having pulled away from the boat's mooring, Ragusa now poled the craft along the route that led to the river.
Despite the constant flow of waterborne traffic, they didn't collide with a single other vessel as they glided easily over the rippling water.
Ragusa seemed to know most of the vessels they passed and gave most of them friendly greetings—though he occasionally exchanged angry shouts and raised poles with some.
They gradually gained speed, which the long craft grew more stable with, and soon they approached the port's exit to the river.
At the wooden tower, which served as a checkpoint at the border of the port, was a group of men who were trying to stop the flow of furs, and having forced their way past the town guard, they hurled curses at the boats that had managed to break through this last line of defense.
The vicissitudes of fortune were ever thus.
Men wearing chain mail and iron helms came to the entrance of the tower. They were probably mercenaries and knights who had been specially retained for the occasion.
The boat carrying Lawrence and Holo rounded the tower, and as it entered the river proper, one man yelling curses from the very top of the tower was restrained by the mercenaries. Lawrence wasn't feeling especially sympathetic, but at the same time, he hoped there would be no fatalities.
As he watched, the things that had happened to him in the town came floating vaguely to his mind.
Just as the men in the tower were now in real trouble, Lawrence himself had only just faced his own problems.
He had been shocked by Holo's suggestion that they end their travels together and shocked again by her reasoning.
In the end, the feeling had pierced Lawrence's selfishness, but he decided that was what Holo had wanted.
Thinking back on the scene, it made him want to show Holo—who was far from comfortable in the unfamiliar boat—a little kindness.
But such kindness was always for naught.
Somewhere along the line, Holo seemed to have recovered, and though she still held fast to Lawrence's clothing, she now looked intently past the vessel's prow and along the river.
Her profile was inarguably intrepid.
"Hmm?" She seemed to notice Lawrence's gaze and looked up at him questioningly.
She always knew precisely how she appeared to others.
Lawrence wearily looked the other way, gazing at the town of Lenos as they left it behind.
He heard a giggle.
"Your kindness is so very frightful," said Holo, chuckling, letting go of Lawrence's clothing.
Her head ducked, Holo's breath escaped from her mouth and flowed whitely past her as they moved. This couldn't be helped, not even if he wanted to pluck the fur from the little devil's tail.
Still, it was cold upon the river. She couldn't very well afford to lose her tail.
Lawrence replied slowly, "For my part, I'm afraid of your smile."
"Fool." Holo's smile shined from underneath her hood.
As it flows gently past the town of Lenos from east to west through the grasslands, the Roam River is a perfectly normal river.
In the spring and early summer when the water level is higher, they say the shipments of lumber that are floated down the river are an amazing sight, looking like some great water serpent, but at the moment, all they could see both fore and aft was the orderly line of boats.
There were also sheep drinking at the river and travelers walking alongside it and the clouds floating gently overhead.
If Holo was motivated by curiosity, she was also quick to lose interest. She rested her chin on the edge of the ship's hull, her face a mask of understandable boredom, occasionally dangling her fingertips in the water and sighing.
"There's nothing to do," she muttered, at which a dozing Lawrence, curled up in the same blanket as she was, woke, yawned, and stretched.
"Mmph. I'm just happy not to have to be holding the reins."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Sailors were famous for their boasting, but Lawrence felt like he understood where it came from now.
Ragusa was moving the entire boat by himself, after all.
Having pulled away from the boat's mooring, Ragusa now poled the craft along the route that led to the river.
Despite the constant flow of waterborne traffic, they didn't collide with a single other vessel as they glided easily over the rippling water.
Ragusa seemed to know most of the vessels they passed and gave most of them friendly greetings—though he occasionally exchanged angry shouts and raised poles with some.
They gradually gained speed, which the long craft grew more stable with, and soon they approached the port's exit to the river.
At the wooden tower, which served as a checkpoint at the border of the port, was a group of men who were trying to stop the flow of furs, and having forced their way past the town guard, they hurled curses at the boats that had managed to break through this last line of defense.
The vicissitudes of fortune were ever thus.
Men wearing chain mail and iron helms came to the entrance of the tower. They were probably mercenaries and knights who had been specially retained for the occasion.
The boat carrying Lawrence and Holo rounded the tower, and as it entered the river proper, one man yelling curses from the very top of the tower was restrained by the mercenaries. Lawrence wasn't feeling especially sympathetic, but at the same time, he hoped there would be no fatalities.
As he watched, the things that had happened to him in the town came floating vaguely to his mind.
Just as the men in the tower were now in real trouble, Lawrence himself had only just faced his own problems.
He had been shocked by Holo's suggestion that they end their travels together and shocked again by her reasoning.
In the end, the feeling had pierced Lawrence's selfishness, but he decided that was what Holo had wanted.
Thinking back on the scene, it made him want to show Holo—who was far from comfortable in the unfamiliar boat—a little kindness.
But such kindness was always for naught.
Somewhere along the line, Holo seemed to have recovered, and though she still held fast to Lawrence's clothing, she now looked intently past the vessel's prow and along the river.
Her profile was inarguably intrepid.
"Hmm?" She seemed to notice Lawrence's gaze and looked up at him questioningly.
She always knew precisely how she appeared to others.
Lawrence wearily looked the other way, gazing at the town of Lenos as they left it behind.
He heard a giggle.
"Your kindness is so very frightful," said Holo, chuckling, letting go of Lawrence's clothing.
Her head ducked, Holo's breath escaped from her mouth and flowed whitely past her as they moved. This couldn't be helped, not even if he wanted to pluck the fur from the little devil's tail.
Still, it was cold upon the river. She couldn't very well afford to lose her tail.
Lawrence replied slowly, "For my part, I'm afraid of your smile."
"Fool." Holo's smile shined from underneath her hood.
As it flows gently past the town of Lenos from east to west through the grasslands, the Roam River is a perfectly normal river.
In the spring and early summer when the water level is higher, they say the shipments of lumber that are floated down the river are an amazing sight, looking like some great water serpent, but at the moment, all they could see both fore and aft was the orderly line of boats.
There were also sheep drinking at the river and travelers walking alongside it and the clouds floating gently overhead.
If Holo was motivated by curiosity, she was also quick to lose interest. She rested her chin on the edge of the ship's hull, her face a mask of understandable boredom, occasionally dangling her fingertips in the water and sighing.
"There's nothing to do," she muttered, at which a dozing Lawrence, curled up in the same blanket as she was, woke, yawned, and stretched.
"Mmph. I'm just happy not to have to be holding the reins."
| Above all, there was no need to rub his eyes constantly to stay awake even when exhausted, listening to his companion snore while he became more irritated by the moment.
It was enough to make him want to travel by boat all the time, but Holo seemed to already be too bored to stand it. She withdrew her hand that had disturbed the water's glassy surface and flicked droplets toward Lawrence.
The winter water was very cold.
Lawrence made a face, and Holo turned away and leaned against the side of the boat, removing her tail, which covered his feet, and pulling it back to her hands.
As Ragusa napped on the other side of the loaded cargo, there was no need for concern.
"Why don't you try counting sheep? I'm sure you'd go to sleep eventually."
"I was counting until a moment ago. I gave up around seventy-two." Holo brushed her hands quickly through her tail, combing out bits of debris and matted fur.
With each brush, flea-like things popped out of her fur, but even if she'd been worried about them, there was nothing to be done.
It was enough to make Lawrence believe the talk of being kept awake by the sound of jumping fleas and lice during warm summer nights.
"Anyway," Holo continued, "counting sheep will only make me hungry."
"That won't do. You'd best stop."
Holo flicked a captured flea at Lawrence.
It was a meaningless gesture as they were sharing the same blanket.
"Still," she said, bringing her tail up to her face and burying it in the thick fur, putting the tail in order with her mouth. "Once we've made it down the river and taken the vixen to task, what then?"
She skillfully groomed herself as she talked, but when she finished speaking and opened her mouth, it was covered in fur. She probably needed to prepare for the shedding of her coat once spring arrived.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he lent a hand to remove some of the fur that was clinging to Holo's mouth despite her efforts to brush it free. "Here, hold still...What then, you ask?"
"Aye. After."
Holo narrowed her eyes as the fur was plucked from her; her somewhat solicitous tone was surely meant more to distract Lawrence's attention from the tightrope he walked rather than strictly to tease him.
The best course of action that Holo and Lawrence could take, as well as the things they could and couldn't do, had been decided in Lenos.
But that decision did not include any real notion of what would happen after.
"Food and amusements are plentiful where we're going, so we could easily wait until the snow melts in the mountains. Or if we're in a hurry, we could arrange for horses back to Lenos, then head north."
"Into the Roef Mountains, you mean."
It was the direction from which Holo had come.
If they hurried, the trip would take less than a month. If they moved in earnest, their travels together could end in mere days.
Holo grasped her tail in an especially maidenly fashion.
Lawrence studied her.
She was begging him to lie to her.
"Still, the mountains change when people get into them. If we head up the Roef River, we might well lose our way." Lawrence mused upon what a high-maintenance wolf he had for a companion as he plucked another bit of brown fur from her mouth and continued. "If we got as far as Nyohhira, you'd know the way, correct? My guess is it would take ten days from Lenos to Nyohhira. If we can't wait for spring, it will be closer to twenty days—we'll need to take a path that runs through as many towns and villages as possible." He counted off on his fingers, unsure of whether that was long or short.
Keep your stays short and your travels long.
The principle was always in his mind as he traveled for business, and even this proposal was leisurely enough to inspire a nagging guilt. When doing business, half of his sales went to paying tariffs and taxes; a further 30 percent went to travel and lodging costs, leaving 20 percent as profit—so a slower, more expensive route hardly sat well with Lawrence.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Above all, there was no need to rub his eyes constantly to stay awake even when exhausted, listening to his companion snore while he became more irritated by the moment.
It was enough to make him want to travel by boat all the time, but Holo seemed to already be too bored to stand it. She withdrew her hand that had disturbed the water's glassy surface and flicked droplets toward Lawrence.
The winter water was very cold.
Lawrence made a face, and Holo turned away and leaned against the side of the boat, removing her tail, which covered his feet, and pulling it back to her hands.
As Ragusa napped on the other side of the loaded cargo, there was no need for concern.
"Why don't you try counting sheep? I'm sure you'd go to sleep eventually."
"I was counting until a moment ago. I gave up around seventy-two." Holo brushed her hands quickly through her tail, combing out bits of debris and matted fur.
With each brush, flea-like things popped out of her fur, but even if she'd been worried about them, there was nothing to be done.
It was enough to make Lawrence believe the talk of being kept awake by the sound of jumping fleas and lice during warm summer nights.
"Anyway," Holo continued, "counting sheep will only make me hungry."
"That won't do. You'd best stop."
Holo flicked a captured flea at Lawrence.
It was a meaningless gesture as they were sharing the same blanket.
"Still," she said, bringing her tail up to her face and burying it in the thick fur, putting the tail in order with her mouth. "Once we've made it down the river and taken the vixen to task, what then?"
She skillfully groomed herself as she talked, but when she finished speaking and opened her mouth, it was covered in fur. She probably needed to prepare for the shedding of her coat once spring arrived.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he lent a hand to remove some of the fur that was clinging to Holo's mouth despite her efforts to brush it free. "Here, hold still...What then, you ask?"
"Aye. After."
Holo narrowed her eyes as the fur was plucked from her; her somewhat solicitous tone was surely meant more to distract Lawrence's attention from the tightrope he walked rather than strictly to tease him.
The best course of action that Holo and Lawrence could take, as well as the things they could and couldn't do, had been decided in Lenos.
But that decision did not include any real notion of what would happen after.
"Food and amusements are plentiful where we're going, so we could easily wait until the snow melts in the mountains. Or if we're in a hurry, we could arrange for horses back to Lenos, then head north."
"Into the Roef Mountains, you mean."
It was the direction from which Holo had come.
If they hurried, the trip would take less than a month. If they moved in earnest, their travels together could end in mere days.
Holo grasped her tail in an especially maidenly fashion.
Lawrence studied her.
She was begging him to lie to her.
"Still, the mountains change when people get into them. If we head up the Roef River, we might well lose our way." Lawrence mused upon what a high-maintenance wolf he had for a companion as he plucked another bit of brown fur from her mouth and continued. "If we got as far as Nyohhira, you'd know the way, correct? My guess is it would take ten days from Lenos to Nyohhira. If we can't wait for spring, it will be closer to twenty days—we'll need to take a path that runs through as many towns and villages as possible." He counted off on his fingers, unsure of whether that was long or short.
Keep your stays short and your travels long.
The principle was always in his mind as he traveled for business, and even this proposal was leisurely enough to inspire a nagging guilt. When doing business, half of his sales went to paying tariffs and taxes; a further 30 percent went to travel and lodging costs, leaving 20 percent as profit—so a slower, more expensive route hardly sat well with Lawrence.
| He counted on his fingers, then stopped, staring at the next digit, wondering if there was some way he could count it.
"Ten days for a leisurely soak in the hot springs of Nyohhira," said Holo, reaching out and counting off Lawrence's last finger.
With their hands overlapping like that, they looked like a married couple trying to keep each other warm.
And indeed, Lawrence smiled broadly, his heart warmed.
Holo looked up and beamed.
It was a terrifying smile.
Ten days' stay in Nyohhira. If ever a thing was to bring a smile to his face and warmth to his heart, that would be it.
There was no telling how much ten nights' lodging in a hot springs town would cost. The inn bills could be high, taking advantage of travelers, and the food unpleasant yet expensive. Fresh water was priced unbelievably, and the liquor was thin and poor. There was a fee to enter the baths, and the strongest mineral springs required two daily checkups by a physicker in order to use them. It was quite literally money down the drain.
And yet, given the timing of Holo's request, he could not very well refuse.
The wisewolf was endlessly cunning.
If he had to be less than honest about his feelings, he might as well smile and feel good about it.
"You are making your money-counting face," Holo said, pulling Lawrence's hand to her cheek and nuzzling it, her expression malicious.
Her tail swished about suggestively.
Lawrence considered taking and nuzzling that tail instead.
"There were people there when I passed through, and even I would take human form and use the hot springs sometimes, so I understand the system. But I am Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. If there's no one there, you need only add a little bit to your expenses."
That was certainly the case, but hot springs were places where those who would do anything to extend their lives even a second longer would gather, and even if killed, they did not die.
Such places took on the sense of a pilgrimage, and the harder it was to reach a spring, the more potent its water was said to be, so the most remote locations gained a sort of fame.
Though it was highly doubtful that Holo could find a hot spring that hadn't already been discovered, one thing was certain.
The "little bit" that Lawrence would have to add to his usual food and lodging expenses would be anything but little.
"Every time you make me spend a bit more on food, my own dreams get that much further away." If Lawrence didn't warn Holo off, there was no telling what she would ask of him next.
Holo immediately gave him a nasty look, but Lawrence couldn't back down.
Not even as outmaneuvered as he was now, having told Holo that he loved her to her face.
"I have a variety of ways to tease you, but first," said Holo with a cough and a flick of her tail, "are you not the one who kicked aside his dream of owning a store and instead came for me?"
She looked up at him, testing him.
Her red-brown eyes glittered through the whitish breath that escaped from between her thin lips.
"For one thing, I may have kicked it aside, but I didn't give up on it."
Holo sighed deeply, as though asking whether he expected that excuse to work.
And in truth, some part of it was a lie.
Holo could easily see through such lies and had quite probably already done so, but before it was pointed out to him, Lawrence decided to come clean.
"Though I suppose I did kick it aside in earnest, more or less."
"'Tis the nature of merchants to use vague words to leave themselves loopholes, I suppose," said Holo, exasperated.
Lawrence revised his statement. "No, I truly kicked it aside."
"I'll wait to suggest wasting some money until after I hear your reason for doing so."
Lawrence agonized for a moment; he wanted to say, "Thank you ever so kindly," but instead shrugged and answered this way: "If I opened a shop, I expect I'd take about half as much pleasure in actually doing business."
"...Huh?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He counted on his fingers, then stopped, staring at the next digit, wondering if there was some way he could count it.
"Ten days for a leisurely soak in the hot springs of Nyohhira," said Holo, reaching out and counting off Lawrence's last finger.
With their hands overlapping like that, they looked like a married couple trying to keep each other warm.
And indeed, Lawrence smiled broadly, his heart warmed.
Holo looked up and beamed.
It was a terrifying smile.
Ten days' stay in Nyohhira. If ever a thing was to bring a smile to his face and warmth to his heart, that would be it.
There was no telling how much ten nights' lodging in a hot springs town would cost. The inn bills could be high, taking advantage of travelers, and the food unpleasant yet expensive. Fresh water was priced unbelievably, and the liquor was thin and poor. There was a fee to enter the baths, and the strongest mineral springs required two daily checkups by a physicker in order to use them. It was quite literally money down the drain.
And yet, given the timing of Holo's request, he could not very well refuse.
The wisewolf was endlessly cunning.
If he had to be less than honest about his feelings, he might as well smile and feel good about it.
"You are making your money-counting face," Holo said, pulling Lawrence's hand to her cheek and nuzzling it, her expression malicious.
Her tail swished about suggestively.
Lawrence considered taking and nuzzling that tail instead.
"There were people there when I passed through, and even I would take human form and use the hot springs sometimes, so I understand the system. But I am Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. If there's no one there, you need only add a little bit to your expenses."
That was certainly the case, but hot springs were places where those who would do anything to extend their lives even a second longer would gather, and even if killed, they did not die.
Such places took on the sense of a pilgrimage, and the harder it was to reach a spring, the more potent its water was said to be, so the most remote locations gained a sort of fame.
Though it was highly doubtful that Holo could find a hot spring that hadn't already been discovered, one thing was certain.
The "little bit" that Lawrence would have to add to his usual food and lodging expenses would be anything but little.
"Every time you make me spend a bit more on food, my own dreams get that much further away." If Lawrence didn't warn Holo off, there was no telling what she would ask of him next.
Holo immediately gave him a nasty look, but Lawrence couldn't back down.
Not even as outmaneuvered as he was now, having told Holo that he loved her to her face.
"I have a variety of ways to tease you, but first," said Holo with a cough and a flick of her tail, "are you not the one who kicked aside his dream of owning a store and instead came for me?"
She looked up at him, testing him.
Her red-brown eyes glittered through the whitish breath that escaped from between her thin lips.
"For one thing, I may have kicked it aside, but I didn't give up on it."
Holo sighed deeply, as though asking whether he expected that excuse to work.
And in truth, some part of it was a lie.
Holo could easily see through such lies and had quite probably already done so, but before it was pointed out to him, Lawrence decided to come clean.
"Though I suppose I did kick it aside in earnest, more or less."
"'Tis the nature of merchants to use vague words to leave themselves loopholes, I suppose," said Holo, exasperated.
Lawrence revised his statement. "No, I truly kicked it aside."
"I'll wait to suggest wasting some money until after I hear your reason for doing so."
Lawrence agonized for a moment; he wanted to say, "Thank you ever so kindly," but instead shrugged and answered this way: "If I opened a shop, I expect I'd take about half as much pleasure in actually doing business."
"...Huh?"
| It wasn't as though he was no longer enticed by the smell of profit.
But privileging that goal over all others, unmoved by whatever storms might come, focusing solely on material gain—he no longer wanted that.
If he got the shop now, it would be wasted on him, precisely because he had been chasing it for so long and with such single-minded focus.
Holo swept aside her joking expression, murmuring "hmm" to herself.
Surely Holo understood this, as she herself feared today's joy eventually turning to sorrow.
"Still, you should take into consideration that I feel this way because it was my dream for so long. If I were to get a shop, it wouldn't be an unhappy thing."
Holo nodded slowly, but her face was confused as she replied, "Aye, I suppose...there was some misfortune."
"Yes...wait, what? Misfortune?" asked Lawrence at the word he failed to understand, whereupon Holo made a face as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yes, was there not? You had a dream but cast it aside and came for me instead. It's enough to make even the person who first said the words 'he who chases two rabbits will catch neither' throw their hands up in dismay."
Even as Lawrence realized his mouth was hanging open, he couldn't manage to close it as he rotated his head toward her.
No matter how many times he reconsidered it, Holo's words pointed to but one fact.
He had abandoned one rabbit in order to chase another but had failed to catch it.
An unpleasant emotion boiled up in Lawrence's mind, as though he'd dropped his coin purse.
If this is a joke, I wish she would stop, he thought to himself, turning away. He then looked back at Holo and saw on her face an expression of sad concern, as though she was worried for Lawrence's health.
"Are you quite all right? Come now, take heart. After all, you haven't gained a thing, have you?"
Was it anger or sadness or something else entirely?
The same instant Lawrence wondered if Holo was speaking another language, she curled the corners of her mouth up maliciously, her tongue peeking out between her lips.
"Heh. In truth, have you even reached out to me? What a strange notion, to gain something without first reaching for it."
Lawrence had never wanted to dunk Holo underwater as much as he did that moment, mostly because she was looking at the face he least wanted others to see.
Holo chuckled. "Though I suppose 'tis not as though such territory is marked with visible ropes. How you consider that is up to you," she said, drawing nearer to Lawrence, nestling close to him as one wolf does to another.
Her white breath puffed against the nape of his neck.
He knew if he looked at her, he would be defeated.
And by the time he realized that, he was defeated.
"In the end, 'tis my wish that you not abandon your dream. And if you find owning a shop satisfying, you might next take an apprentice, might you not? 'Tis a rather profound thing, and you'll never have a day of rest," said Holo, snickering and pulling her face away.
Lawrence wondered if this was how a fish felt after being stripped to the bone.
No matter how he struggled, his situation could hardly improve.
So as not to expose anything more unseemly than he already had, he took a deep breath, then exhaled.
Holo laughed quietly as though enjoying the lingering moment.
"Wait, have you ever taken an apprentice?" Lawrence's voice was still slightly tense, but Holo overlooked it.
"Hmm? Oh yes. I am Holo the Wisewolf, after all. Many wished to learn from me."
"Huh."
Forgetting about the conversation thus far, Lawrence found himself genuinely impressed.
Whereupon Holo, possibly not expecting that, turned suddenly bashful.
She may well have been exaggerating in a deliberate attempt to make up for her too-keen teasing. "Well, I do not know if you could quite properly call them 'apprentices,' though I'm sure they styled themselves as such. In any case, I was the greatest. If you wanted to receive my teachings, hmm. You'd have had to wait behind a hundred certainly."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It wasn't as though he was no longer enticed by the smell of profit.
But privileging that goal over all others, unmoved by whatever storms might come, focusing solely on material gain—he no longer wanted that.
If he got the shop now, it would be wasted on him, precisely because he had been chasing it for so long and with such single-minded focus.
Holo swept aside her joking expression, murmuring "hmm" to herself.
Surely Holo understood this, as she herself feared today's joy eventually turning to sorrow.
"Still, you should take into consideration that I feel this way because it was my dream for so long. If I were to get a shop, it wouldn't be an unhappy thing."
Holo nodded slowly, but her face was confused as she replied, "Aye, I suppose...there was some misfortune."
"Yes...wait, what? Misfortune?" asked Lawrence at the word he failed to understand, whereupon Holo made a face as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yes, was there not? You had a dream but cast it aside and came for me instead. It's enough to make even the person who first said the words 'he who chases two rabbits will catch neither' throw their hands up in dismay."
Even as Lawrence realized his mouth was hanging open, he couldn't manage to close it as he rotated his head toward her.
No matter how many times he reconsidered it, Holo's words pointed to but one fact.
He had abandoned one rabbit in order to chase another but had failed to catch it.
An unpleasant emotion boiled up in Lawrence's mind, as though he'd dropped his coin purse.
If this is a joke, I wish she would stop, he thought to himself, turning away. He then looked back at Holo and saw on her face an expression of sad concern, as though she was worried for Lawrence's health.
"Are you quite all right? Come now, take heart. After all, you haven't gained a thing, have you?"
Was it anger or sadness or something else entirely?
The same instant Lawrence wondered if Holo was speaking another language, she curled the corners of her mouth up maliciously, her tongue peeking out between her lips.
"Heh. In truth, have you even reached out to me? What a strange notion, to gain something without first reaching for it."
Lawrence had never wanted to dunk Holo underwater as much as he did that moment, mostly because she was looking at the face he least wanted others to see.
Holo chuckled. "Though I suppose 'tis not as though such territory is marked with visible ropes. How you consider that is up to you," she said, drawing nearer to Lawrence, nestling close to him as one wolf does to another.
Her white breath puffed against the nape of his neck.
He knew if he looked at her, he would be defeated.
And by the time he realized that, he was defeated.
"In the end, 'tis my wish that you not abandon your dream. And if you find owning a shop satisfying, you might next take an apprentice, might you not? 'Tis a rather profound thing, and you'll never have a day of rest," said Holo, snickering and pulling her face away.
Lawrence wondered if this was how a fish felt after being stripped to the bone.
No matter how he struggled, his situation could hardly improve.
So as not to expose anything more unseemly than he already had, he took a deep breath, then exhaled.
Holo laughed quietly as though enjoying the lingering moment.
"Wait, have you ever taken an apprentice?" Lawrence's voice was still slightly tense, but Holo overlooked it.
"Hmm? Oh yes. I am Holo the Wisewolf, after all. Many wished to learn from me."
"Huh."
Forgetting about the conversation thus far, Lawrence found himself genuinely impressed.
Whereupon Holo, possibly not expecting that, turned suddenly bashful.
She may well have been exaggerating in a deliberate attempt to make up for her too-keen teasing. "Well, I do not know if you could quite properly call them 'apprentices,' though I'm sure they styled themselves as such. In any case, I was the greatest. If you wanted to receive my teachings, hmm. You'd have had to wait behind a hundred certainly."
| When he thought about it, Holo was certainly worthy of such respect.
But what made him feel such unease at the dignity she surely possessed were the many memories of her that came rising to his mind.
He couldn't reconcile this supposedly majestic being with the Holo he knew—who laughed, cried, and sulked.
Holo's expression shifted to a soft smile, and she took Lawrence's hand. "Of course, you do not just seek my teachings; you would try to take my reins—a rare fool, indeed. You can't hope to succeed, but there's no mistaking that you wish to look into my eyes as an equal. I've been alone on the mountaintop for a long time. I've had quite enough of looking down on others."
It was a lonely thing being worshipped as a god.
He remembered when they first met, and Holo had said that she had gone traveling to find a friend.
Holo's smile remained, though it was a bit lonely now. "Come now, you did come after me, did you not?"
The words themselves were teasing, but paired with her lonely smile, he could hardly imagine they were meant that way.
Lawrence couldn't help the bitter smile that rose to his lips, which Holo made a sullen face at.
When he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her near, he felt her sigh.
He wondered if the note of satisfaction he detected in that sigh was just his imagination.
"But now, I...," she began, again turning her body so that her eyes looked directly up into his. "I truly, truly enjoy looking up at you thus."
There beside him, she looked for all the world like a fetching maiden with gaze upturned.
Though he might become accustomed to their exchanges, this was one thing he could never get used to.
"No doubt because the face you're looking up to is a fool's face indeed," answered Lawrence with a wince, and the wolf girl clung to him in delight.
Holo's tail wagged, sending fleas jumping free, as though they couldn't be expected to stay on such an appendage. It stands to reason, Lawrence thought to himself, a warmth rising in his chest. Holo smiled, her face pressed against him.
Lawrence returned the smile. It was true—their exchanges were so foolish that if they were seen this way, even the most faithful apprentice would have a hard time calling him master.
Lawrence murmured an excuse to himself—that if it was what Holo wanted, there was nothing else to be done.
Suddenly there were signs of someone moving on the other side of the pile of cargo, and sure enough, there was Ragusa, strange lines pressed into his face, as though he'd used his arm as a pillow, and stretching hugely.
He first looked at Lawrence, then cast his gaze at Holo, who leaned against Lawrence, sleeping. Ragusa grinned and yawned.
When Lawrence looked ahead of the boat to where Ragusa pointed, he saw docks built up on both sides of the river. It was a tariff station, just like the ones that were unavoidable when crossing mountains and plains by wagon.
There was still some distance to go before they reached it, but apparently Ragusa could doze off and still know from experience when to wake. It was said that sailors could orient themselves at sea not by using landmarks, but simply from the smell of the ocean. Perhaps Ragusa was like this as well. Ragusa thrust a pole into the river and cried out, causing the pleasantly sleeping Holo to twitch awake.
"This is a checkpoint of the Diejin dukedom, which recently had a change of leadership. We'll include the head count tax in your fare—apparently he's mad about deer hunting, so taxes are high, my friend!"
Lawrence replied that he didn't see the connection between deer hunting and high taxes, and Ragusa laughed and answered, "The duke's never seen the field of battle, yet he proclaims himself the finest shot in the world with a bow. In other words, he thinks he can't but loose an arrow without hitting a deer."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | When he thought about it, Holo was certainly worthy of such respect.
But what made him feel such unease at the dignity she surely possessed were the many memories of her that came rising to his mind.
He couldn't reconcile this supposedly majestic being with the Holo he knew—who laughed, cried, and sulked.
Holo's expression shifted to a soft smile, and she took Lawrence's hand. "Of course, you do not just seek my teachings; you would try to take my reins—a rare fool, indeed. You can't hope to succeed, but there's no mistaking that you wish to look into my eyes as an equal. I've been alone on the mountaintop for a long time. I've had quite enough of looking down on others."
It was a lonely thing being worshipped as a god.
He remembered when they first met, and Holo had said that she had gone traveling to find a friend.
Holo's smile remained, though it was a bit lonely now. "Come now, you did come after me, did you not?"
The words themselves were teasing, but paired with her lonely smile, he could hardly imagine they were meant that way.
Lawrence couldn't help the bitter smile that rose to his lips, which Holo made a sullen face at.
When he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her near, he felt her sigh.
He wondered if the note of satisfaction he detected in that sigh was just his imagination.
"But now, I...," she began, again turning her body so that her eyes looked directly up into his. "I truly, truly enjoy looking up at you thus."
There beside him, she looked for all the world like a fetching maiden with gaze upturned.
Though he might become accustomed to their exchanges, this was one thing he could never get used to.
"No doubt because the face you're looking up to is a fool's face indeed," answered Lawrence with a wince, and the wolf girl clung to him in delight.
Holo's tail wagged, sending fleas jumping free, as though they couldn't be expected to stay on such an appendage. It stands to reason, Lawrence thought to himself, a warmth rising in his chest. Holo smiled, her face pressed against him.
Lawrence returned the smile. It was true—their exchanges were so foolish that if they were seen this way, even the most faithful apprentice would have a hard time calling him master.
Lawrence murmured an excuse to himself—that if it was what Holo wanted, there was nothing else to be done.
Suddenly there were signs of someone moving on the other side of the pile of cargo, and sure enough, there was Ragusa, strange lines pressed into his face, as though he'd used his arm as a pillow, and stretching hugely.
He first looked at Lawrence, then cast his gaze at Holo, who leaned against Lawrence, sleeping. Ragusa grinned and yawned.
When Lawrence looked ahead of the boat to where Ragusa pointed, he saw docks built up on both sides of the river. It was a tariff station, just like the ones that were unavoidable when crossing mountains and plains by wagon.
There was still some distance to go before they reached it, but apparently Ragusa could doze off and still know from experience when to wake. It was said that sailors could orient themselves at sea not by using landmarks, but simply from the smell of the ocean. Perhaps Ragusa was like this as well. Ragusa thrust a pole into the river and cried out, causing the pleasantly sleeping Holo to twitch awake.
"This is a checkpoint of the Diejin dukedom, which recently had a change of leadership. We'll include the head count tax in your fare—apparently he's mad about deer hunting, so taxes are high, my friend!"
Lawrence replied that he didn't see the connection between deer hunting and high taxes, and Ragusa laughed and answered, "The duke's never seen the field of battle, yet he proclaims himself the finest shot in the world with a bow. In other words, he thinks he can't but loose an arrow without hitting a deer."
| Lawrence couldn't help but chuckle at what sprang to mind—a round-faced, ringlet-haired lord oblivious to the ways of the world and the laughingstock of the town.
"Ah," said Lawrence. "It must be quite a burden on his household."
"On top of that, he's dead set on capturing the heart of his chosen princess. Of course, there's the rumor that he's started realizing the truth about his own abilities."
For some reason, the most beloved lords were often the ones most ill spoken of—an ignorant, haughty ruler might be hated, but as soon as he said some absurd thing, his charm would increase. The lording business was a difficult one since lending a careful ear to one's subjects and being serious and severe—these things did not guarantee success.
Ragusa, too, made fun of the duke, but when it came time to pay the toll, he had it ready and was by no means reluctant to hand it over.
Should war come to the land, it would be much easier for the laughingstock Duke Diejin to rally support than it would be for other lords. It was better by far to have the people feel it was their duty to join, rather than to be ordered to do so from on high.
Lawrence suddenly realized that the notion had relevance to his own situation and looked at Holo, who was right beside him.
"Have you something you wish to say?" she asked.
"No, nothing."
Ragusa gradually slowed the craft, drawing close to another boat that was nearing the checkpoint's dock.
It didn't take an experienced river hand like Ragusa to be able to tell that something was awry upon the docks.
Someone was there, arguing with a soldier who was armed with a pike.
It wasn't clear what was being said, but it was obvious enough that both parties were shouting.
The handler of the boat that was ahead of Ragusa's also watched the situation, craning his neck to see.
"Strange to see such quarreling," said Ragusa mildly, shading his eyes with his hand.
"Do you think there's a complaint about the high toll?"
"Doubtful. It's only the ones coming from the sea that complain about the taxes. They have to pay for horses to pull their craft upstream, then pay cargo taxes on top of that."
Holo yawned, showing her fangs as she gazed at the scene, then Lawrence realized something strange.
"But isn't that true for both seagoing and river-going ships?" he asked, patting Holo's head as she wiped the corners of her eyes on Lawrence's clothes.
Ragusa pulled the pole up and smiled broadly. "For those like us, who live by the river, the river is home. It's only natural to pay rent for one's home. But for the sailors of the ocean, it's merely a road. It's no wonder they're angry—anyone would be angry if they had to pay simply to walk down the road."
Lawrence nodded his understanding, impressed at the different ways of thinking.
And then, as they continued to move, the full scene came into view.
It seemed that the people quarreling at the dock were a soldier carrying a long pike and a young boy.
It was the boy who was shouting.
He was breathing hard, and the breath came out of his mouth in great white puffs. "But the seal of the duke is right here!"
His boyish voice might or might not have deepened yet.
For that to even be in question, he was young, indeed.
He looked to be perhaps twelve or thirteen. His unkempt grayish hair topped a face grimy with something—mud, perhaps—but filthy in any case. He was skinny enough that if he were to bump into the delicate Holo, it would be hard to know who'd fall over, and the tattered clothes he wore looked likely to fall apart the next time he sneezed.
His ankles were thin, and he was shod in chilly sandals whose extreme wear was obvious at a glance. If it had been a bearded old man looking like this, the boy would have looked like the sort of hermit that collected the admiring gazes of pious types.
The boy held a sheet of old paper in his right hand, glaring at the guard as he gasped for breath.
"What is the matter?" asked Holo, annoyed that her midday nap had been disturbed.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence couldn't help but chuckle at what sprang to mind—a round-faced, ringlet-haired lord oblivious to the ways of the world and the laughingstock of the town.
"Ah," said Lawrence. "It must be quite a burden on his household."
"On top of that, he's dead set on capturing the heart of his chosen princess. Of course, there's the rumor that he's started realizing the truth about his own abilities."
For some reason, the most beloved lords were often the ones most ill spoken of—an ignorant, haughty ruler might be hated, but as soon as he said some absurd thing, his charm would increase. The lording business was a difficult one since lending a careful ear to one's subjects and being serious and severe—these things did not guarantee success.
Ragusa, too, made fun of the duke, but when it came time to pay the toll, he had it ready and was by no means reluctant to hand it over.
Should war come to the land, it would be much easier for the laughingstock Duke Diejin to rally support than it would be for other lords. It was better by far to have the people feel it was their duty to join, rather than to be ordered to do so from on high.
Lawrence suddenly realized that the notion had relevance to his own situation and looked at Holo, who was right beside him.
"Have you something you wish to say?" she asked.
"No, nothing."
Ragusa gradually slowed the craft, drawing close to another boat that was nearing the checkpoint's dock.
It didn't take an experienced river hand like Ragusa to be able to tell that something was awry upon the docks.
Someone was there, arguing with a soldier who was armed with a pike.
It wasn't clear what was being said, but it was obvious enough that both parties were shouting.
The handler of the boat that was ahead of Ragusa's also watched the situation, craning his neck to see.
"Strange to see such quarreling," said Ragusa mildly, shading his eyes with his hand.
"Do you think there's a complaint about the high toll?"
"Doubtful. It's only the ones coming from the sea that complain about the taxes. They have to pay for horses to pull their craft upstream, then pay cargo taxes on top of that."
Holo yawned, showing her fangs as she gazed at the scene, then Lawrence realized something strange.
"But isn't that true for both seagoing and river-going ships?" he asked, patting Holo's head as she wiped the corners of her eyes on Lawrence's clothes.
Ragusa pulled the pole up and smiled broadly. "For those like us, who live by the river, the river is home. It's only natural to pay rent for one's home. But for the sailors of the ocean, it's merely a road. It's no wonder they're angry—anyone would be angry if they had to pay simply to walk down the road."
Lawrence nodded his understanding, impressed at the different ways of thinking.
And then, as they continued to move, the full scene came into view.
It seemed that the people quarreling at the dock were a soldier carrying a long pike and a young boy.
It was the boy who was shouting.
He was breathing hard, and the breath came out of his mouth in great white puffs. "But the seal of the duke is right here!"
His boyish voice might or might not have deepened yet.
For that to even be in question, he was young, indeed.
He looked to be perhaps twelve or thirteen. His unkempt grayish hair topped a face grimy with something—mud, perhaps—but filthy in any case. He was skinny enough that if he were to bump into the delicate Holo, it would be hard to know who'd fall over, and the tattered clothes he wore looked likely to fall apart the next time he sneezed.
His ankles were thin, and he was shod in chilly sandals whose extreme wear was obvious at a glance. If it had been a bearded old man looking like this, the boy would have looked like the sort of hermit that collected the admiring gazes of pious types.
The boy held a sheet of old paper in his right hand, glaring at the guard as he gasped for breath.
"What is the matter?" asked Holo, annoyed that her midday nap had been disturbed.
| Holo yawned. "Not even I can hear such things while napping."
"True enough. You can't even hear your own snoring."
Holo immediately stomped mercilessly on Lawrence's foot.
His objection was cut off by the soldier, who had been quiet until now, shouting back at the boy. "It's a fake, I tell you! If you don't get yourself hence, we've got other ideas!"
The soldier shifted the pike he held.
Ragusa's boat slowed still further, coming to a stop alongside the vessel that had been ahead of them, which had itself stopped just short of the dock.
Said boat's master appeared to know Ragusa, and after exchanging friendly greetings, they seemed to bow their heads a bit and have a discreet conversation.
"Who's that? The Lennon master's apprentice?"
Ragusa gestured with his chin to the master of a vessel that was already moored. The boatman's hair was graying, and he seemed older than Ragusa and his friend.
"If he were, he wouldn't be aboard ship with such a worried face."
"Mm, true. Oh, could it be...?"
As the two boatmen made light conversation, the boy on the dock trembled out of rage or cold and looked at the piece of paper he held.
He then looked back up, as if unwilling to give up, but bit his lip at the spear tip that was pointed at him.
He took a step back, then another, finally coming up to the edge of the dock.
"Mind yourself, lad," said the guard. "Now then, moving on to the toll..."
At the guard's words, the boatmen that had been watching the scene now each tended to their business.
To a man, they were unimpressed, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.
When Lawrence saw the red seal that had been impressed upon the paper the boy held, he understood what had happened.
The boy had been cheated by a dishonest merchant.
"He's been swindled."
"Hmm?"
The gray-haired boatman took his craft out, and another boat entered in its place, with Ragusa moving his own craft neatly alongside it.
Lawrence matched the swaying of the boat as he spoke into Holo's ear. "It happens sometimes. Forged tax exemption documents or fake demands of payment from a local lord. On a larger scale, tax collection authorization documents for this river have probably been caught."
"Hmm."
In most cases, such documents were probably sold at an amount far removed for how much they purported to bring in, but nonetheless, many buyers seemed to think they were real.
"I feel a bit sorry for him," said Holo.
On the river, a line of boats was forming, all heading for the checkpoint.
The guards at the checkpoint were busily scrambling to catch up with their duties after having been interrupted; behind them, the boy was now entirely forgotten.
Just as Holo said, his figure invited sympathy, but while Lawrence could understand the boy's position when he stopped to think about it, this was what happened when one let one's self be cheated.
"He'll learn something from this," said Lawrence.
Holo's gaze moved from the boy to Lawrence accusingly.
"You think me unfeeling, do you?" he asked.
"As I recall, when your own avarice caused you to stumble, you walked all over the city, desperate for aid."
Lawrence couldn't help but be vexed by the comment, yet his merchant ethics were completely opposed to giving the boy so much as a single copper piece. "Perhaps, but I was still the one doing the walking."
"Honestly."
"I'm not so cold as to turn away someone asking for help. But trying to save someone who isn't trying to save himself, well—it's no way to be a merchant. If you're going to do that, you may as well change into priests' robes and head for the nearest church."
Holo seemed to be thinking something over, as in spite of Lawrence's words, she seemed to think the boy was still quite pitiful.
Having worked thanklessly for centuries to ensure a village's good harvest, Holo possessed a strong sense of duty in spite of herself.
It was probably in her nature to want to help those who needed aid.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo yawned. "Not even I can hear such things while napping."
"True enough. You can't even hear your own snoring."
Holo immediately stomped mercilessly on Lawrence's foot.
His objection was cut off by the soldier, who had been quiet until now, shouting back at the boy. "It's a fake, I tell you! If you don't get yourself hence, we've got other ideas!"
The soldier shifted the pike he held.
Ragusa's boat slowed still further, coming to a stop alongside the vessel that had been ahead of them, which had itself stopped just short of the dock.
Said boat's master appeared to know Ragusa, and after exchanging friendly greetings, they seemed to bow their heads a bit and have a discreet conversation.
"Who's that? The Lennon master's apprentice?"
Ragusa gestured with his chin to the master of a vessel that was already moored. The boatman's hair was graying, and he seemed older than Ragusa and his friend.
"If he were, he wouldn't be aboard ship with such a worried face."
"Mm, true. Oh, could it be...?"
As the two boatmen made light conversation, the boy on the dock trembled out of rage or cold and looked at the piece of paper he held.
He then looked back up, as if unwilling to give up, but bit his lip at the spear tip that was pointed at him.
He took a step back, then another, finally coming up to the edge of the dock.
"Mind yourself, lad," said the guard. "Now then, moving on to the toll..."
At the guard's words, the boatmen that had been watching the scene now each tended to their business.
To a man, they were unimpressed, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.
When Lawrence saw the red seal that had been impressed upon the paper the boy held, he understood what had happened.
The boy had been cheated by a dishonest merchant.
"He's been swindled."
"Hmm?"
The gray-haired boatman took his craft out, and another boat entered in its place, with Ragusa moving his own craft neatly alongside it.
Lawrence matched the swaying of the boat as he spoke into Holo's ear. "It happens sometimes. Forged tax exemption documents or fake demands of payment from a local lord. On a larger scale, tax collection authorization documents for this river have probably been caught."
"Hmm."
In most cases, such documents were probably sold at an amount far removed for how much they purported to bring in, but nonetheless, many buyers seemed to think they were real.
"I feel a bit sorry for him," said Holo.
On the river, a line of boats was forming, all heading for the checkpoint.
The guards at the checkpoint were busily scrambling to catch up with their duties after having been interrupted; behind them, the boy was now entirely forgotten.
Just as Holo said, his figure invited sympathy, but while Lawrence could understand the boy's position when he stopped to think about it, this was what happened when one let one's self be cheated.
"He'll learn something from this," said Lawrence.
Holo's gaze moved from the boy to Lawrence accusingly.
"You think me unfeeling, do you?" he asked.
"As I recall, when your own avarice caused you to stumble, you walked all over the city, desperate for aid."
Lawrence couldn't help but be vexed by the comment, yet his merchant ethics were completely opposed to giving the boy so much as a single copper piece. "Perhaps, but I was still the one doing the walking."
"Honestly."
"I'm not so cold as to turn away someone asking for help. But trying to save someone who isn't trying to save himself, well—it's no way to be a merchant. If you're going to do that, you may as well change into priests' robes and head for the nearest church."
Holo seemed to be thinking something over, as in spite of Lawrence's words, she seemed to think the boy was still quite pitiful.
Having worked thanklessly for centuries to ensure a village's good harvest, Holo possessed a strong sense of duty in spite of herself.
It was probably in her nature to want to help those who needed aid.
| Lawrence adjusted the blanket around them. "So if he'll stand up on his own, or else..."
Holo may have been kindhearted, but she was not ignorant of the ways of the world.
Feeling a reluctant sympathy for the boy, Lawrence looked in his direction, and in that moment found himself disbelieving not his eyes, but his ears.
"Master!" echoed a high voice.
The people in the area were all well used to hearing the loud conversations of the marketplace, and as a result, they could easily tell at whom the voice was directed.
The boy got to his feet and dashed straight across the dock, heedless of the guard's orders.
He was heading, of course, in the same direction that his voice was directed.
To Lawrence.
"Master! It's me! It's me!" came the words from the boy's mouth.
"Wh...wha—?"
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you! I had nothing to eat and was in a real jam! I must thank the gods for this good fortune!"
There was not a speck of happiness in the boy's face; his features were desperate.
Lawrence looked back at him, stunned, frantically searching his supposedly keen merchant's memory for the boy's face.
But all he could conclude was that he'd never known a boy that called him master, unless he was one of the children he had taught to earn their bread while on his travels.
That's when the realization hit him.
This was a desperate gamble by the boy to save his own life.
Lawrence had figured it out, but the guard figured it out a moment sooner and sent the boy tumbling down with the butt of his pike, forcing him to the ground as though planning to sew him to it. "You runt!"
The checkpoint was the symbol of whoever held power.
Any successful fraud there would undo that authority.
If things went poorly, the boy could easily be thrown into the river to drown.
Yet those light blue eyes were fixed evenly on Lawrence.
Lawrence found himself momentarily transfixed by the imploring gaze—"If I fail here I'll surely die," the boy seemed to say—when he was jolted from his reverie by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Holo. Holo was looking neither at Lawrence nor at the boy but rather off in a random direction. However, her profile spoke very clearly: "Don't forget what you just said."
The boy had stood up on his own and called for help.
"You've got some nerve, sullying the name of Duke Diejin!" yelled the guard.
The line of boats waiting to get through this checkpoint and on to the next one grew longer.
As the guards were the ones who had to take the blame for any hindrances in traffic, their store of patience with the boy—who was doing nothing but causing trouble for them—had surely reached its end.
Holding the boy against the ground with his pike, the guard pulled back his foot as if to aim a kick to the boy's rib cage, but in that moment—
"Wait, please!" cried Lawrence, just as the foot came up.
The impact could not be stopped. "Ungh," croaked the boy, froglike.
"It's true—I do know the boy!"
The guard looked up at Lawrence and hastily moved his foot away from the boy but soon seemed to grasp Lawrence's true motive. Annoyed, he looked back and forth from Lawrence to the boy, then eventually sighed and withdrew his pike handle from the boy's back.
It was obvious that the boy had been acting.
"Quite softhearted of you," said the guard's silent look.
The boy's eyes bulged, as though he couldn't believe his desperate gamble had actually worked, but as soon as he was able to grasp the situation, he got to his feet and awkwardly scrambled into Ragusa's boat.
Ragusa was retying his coin purse closed after having paid the toll but had momentarily stopped as he watched the proceedings on the dock. When the boy jumped aboard, he came back to himself.
Yet it wasn't until he met Lawrence's gaze that Ragusa managed to close his gaping mouth.
"Hey, you're holding up the line! Move your boat out!"
The guard may have only wanted to rid himself of a nuisance, but ships were in fact lining up behind them.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence adjusted the blanket around them. "So if he'll stand up on his own, or else..."
Holo may have been kindhearted, but she was not ignorant of the ways of the world.
Feeling a reluctant sympathy for the boy, Lawrence looked in his direction, and in that moment found himself disbelieving not his eyes, but his ears.
"Master!" echoed a high voice.
The people in the area were all well used to hearing the loud conversations of the marketplace, and as a result, they could easily tell at whom the voice was directed.
The boy got to his feet and dashed straight across the dock, heedless of the guard's orders.
He was heading, of course, in the same direction that his voice was directed.
To Lawrence.
"Master! It's me! It's me!" came the words from the boy's mouth.
"Wh...wha—?"
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you! I had nothing to eat and was in a real jam! I must thank the gods for this good fortune!"
There was not a speck of happiness in the boy's face; his features were desperate.
Lawrence looked back at him, stunned, frantically searching his supposedly keen merchant's memory for the boy's face.
But all he could conclude was that he'd never known a boy that called him master, unless he was one of the children he had taught to earn their bread while on his travels.
That's when the realization hit him.
This was a desperate gamble by the boy to save his own life.
Lawrence had figured it out, but the guard figured it out a moment sooner and sent the boy tumbling down with the butt of his pike, forcing him to the ground as though planning to sew him to it. "You runt!"
The checkpoint was the symbol of whoever held power.
Any successful fraud there would undo that authority.
If things went poorly, the boy could easily be thrown into the river to drown.
Yet those light blue eyes were fixed evenly on Lawrence.
Lawrence found himself momentarily transfixed by the imploring gaze—"If I fail here I'll surely die," the boy seemed to say—when he was jolted from his reverie by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Holo. Holo was looking neither at Lawrence nor at the boy but rather off in a random direction. However, her profile spoke very clearly: "Don't forget what you just said."
The boy had stood up on his own and called for help.
"You've got some nerve, sullying the name of Duke Diejin!" yelled the guard.
The line of boats waiting to get through this checkpoint and on to the next one grew longer.
As the guards were the ones who had to take the blame for any hindrances in traffic, their store of patience with the boy—who was doing nothing but causing trouble for them—had surely reached its end.
Holding the boy against the ground with his pike, the guard pulled back his foot as if to aim a kick to the boy's rib cage, but in that moment—
"Wait, please!" cried Lawrence, just as the foot came up.
The impact could not be stopped. "Ungh," croaked the boy, froglike.
"It's true—I do know the boy!"
The guard looked up at Lawrence and hastily moved his foot away from the boy but soon seemed to grasp Lawrence's true motive. Annoyed, he looked back and forth from Lawrence to the boy, then eventually sighed and withdrew his pike handle from the boy's back.
It was obvious that the boy had been acting.
"Quite softhearted of you," said the guard's silent look.
The boy's eyes bulged, as though he couldn't believe his desperate gamble had actually worked, but as soon as he was able to grasp the situation, he got to his feet and awkwardly scrambled into Ragusa's boat.
Ragusa was retying his coin purse closed after having paid the toll but had momentarily stopped as he watched the proceedings on the dock. When the boy jumped aboard, he came back to himself.
Yet it wasn't until he met Lawrence's gaze that Ragusa managed to close his gaping mouth.
"Hey, you're holding up the line! Move your boat out!"
The guard may have only wanted to rid himself of a nuisance, but ships were in fact lining up behind them.
| Once the boy reached the boat's bow where Lawrence and Holo were, he collapsed, either out of exhaustion or sheer shock.
Holo finally looked at Lawrence.
Her face still evidenced some irritation.
"We've come this far, so I guess it can't be helped," said Lawrence, at which Holo smiled faintly, putting her hand to the boy who had collapsed at her feet, which stuck out from underneath the blanket.
While she normally appeared fond of teasing and ridiculing others, seeing her kneel and speak quietly to the lad made Holo look every bit the kindhearted nun that her clothes marked her as.
It may very well have looked nice, but Lawrence did not find it the least bit amusing.
It wasn't that he had no confidence in his own code of conduct, but now compared with Holo, he appeared quite heartless.
Having determined that the boy was uninjured, Holo helped him sit up and brought him to the edge of the boat.
Lawrence took some water out and handed it over.
The boy was in Holo's shadow, and Lawrence could see that his hand still held tight to the certificate.
Lawrence had to admire his spirit.
"Here, water," said Holo, passing it to the boy with a nudge at his shoulder.
The boy's eyes had been closed, as though he was unconscious, but they slowly opened, and his gaze flicked back and forth between Holo directly in front of him and Lawrence, who was behind her.
The moment he saw the boy's sheepish smile, Lawrence looked aside in spite of himself, remembering how a moment ago he'd been ready to abandon the boy.
"Thank...you."
It was unclear whether the boy was giving thanks for the water or for their kindness in having played along with his desperate act.
Either way, Lawrence felt a bit self-conscious, unaccustomed as he was to being thanked in a situation free from cold profit and loss calculations.
The boy must have been thirsty, for he gulped the water down rapidly despite the chilly weather, then cleared his throat and sighed, apparently satisfied.
From the look of him, it didn't seem like he'd come from Lenos. There were any number of roads with paths across the river, so the boy was probably from a town north or south along one such road.
What sort of travel had brought him here?
From the tattered sandals the boy had on, one thing was clear—it had not been an easy journey.
"When you've calmed yourself, you should sleep. Will this blanket be enough, I wonder?" asked Holo.
Aside from the blanket she and Lawrence used, they had one extra.
Holo handed it over, and the boy's eyes widened in pleasure at this unanticipated kindness. He nodded. "The blessings of God be upon both of...you..."
The boy wrapped himself in the blanket and fell asleep so rapidly one could nearly hear the thud.
Given his clothing, it would have been impossible for him to make camp and sleep outside. If things went badly, he could very well have frozen to death.
Holo watched him worriedly for a while but seemed to relax upon hearing the boy's slow, regular breathing. Her face was gentle as Lawrence had never seen it, and she softly brushed the boy's hair from his face before standing.
"Should I now do the same for you?" she asked, half-teasing, half-embarrassed.
"It's the privilege of children to be cared for so," answered Lawrence with a shrug.
Holo smiled. "From where I stand, you're still a child."
As she spoke, the boat, which until a moment ago had been picking up speed as it floated down the river, slowed. They had largely caught up with the boats ahead of them, and Ragusa had taken an interest in their new passenger. He put his pole down and called out from across the cargo.
"Quite a handful! Is he all right at least?" Ragusa asked about the boy.
Holo nodded, and Ragusa stroked his chin thoughtfully, exhaling white breath.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Once the boy reached the boat's bow where Lawrence and Holo were, he collapsed, either out of exhaustion or sheer shock.
Holo finally looked at Lawrence.
Her face still evidenced some irritation.
"We've come this far, so I guess it can't be helped," said Lawrence, at which Holo smiled faintly, putting her hand to the boy who had collapsed at her feet, which stuck out from underneath the blanket.
While she normally appeared fond of teasing and ridiculing others, seeing her kneel and speak quietly to the lad made Holo look every bit the kindhearted nun that her clothes marked her as.
It may very well have looked nice, but Lawrence did not find it the least bit amusing.
It wasn't that he had no confidence in his own code of conduct, but now compared with Holo, he appeared quite heartless.
Having determined that the boy was uninjured, Holo helped him sit up and brought him to the edge of the boat.
Lawrence took some water out and handed it over.
The boy was in Holo's shadow, and Lawrence could see that his hand still held tight to the certificate.
Lawrence had to admire his spirit.
"Here, water," said Holo, passing it to the boy with a nudge at his shoulder.
The boy's eyes had been closed, as though he was unconscious, but they slowly opened, and his gaze flicked back and forth between Holo directly in front of him and Lawrence, who was behind her.
The moment he saw the boy's sheepish smile, Lawrence looked aside in spite of himself, remembering how a moment ago he'd been ready to abandon the boy.
"Thank...you."
It was unclear whether the boy was giving thanks for the water or for their kindness in having played along with his desperate act.
Either way, Lawrence felt a bit self-conscious, unaccustomed as he was to being thanked in a situation free from cold profit and loss calculations.
The boy must have been thirsty, for he gulped the water down rapidly despite the chilly weather, then cleared his throat and sighed, apparently satisfied.
From the look of him, it didn't seem like he'd come from Lenos. There were any number of roads with paths across the river, so the boy was probably from a town north or south along one such road.
What sort of travel had brought him here?
From the tattered sandals the boy had on, one thing was clear—it had not been an easy journey.
"When you've calmed yourself, you should sleep. Will this blanket be enough, I wonder?" asked Holo.
Aside from the blanket she and Lawrence used, they had one extra.
Holo handed it over, and the boy's eyes widened in pleasure at this unanticipated kindness. He nodded. "The blessings of God be upon both of...you..."
The boy wrapped himself in the blanket and fell asleep so rapidly one could nearly hear the thud.
Given his clothing, it would have been impossible for him to make camp and sleep outside. If things went badly, he could very well have frozen to death.
Holo watched him worriedly for a while but seemed to relax upon hearing the boy's slow, regular breathing. Her face was gentle as Lawrence had never seen it, and she softly brushed the boy's hair from his face before standing.
"Should I now do the same for you?" she asked, half-teasing, half-embarrassed.
"It's the privilege of children to be cared for so," answered Lawrence with a shrug.
Holo smiled. "From where I stand, you're still a child."
As she spoke, the boat, which until a moment ago had been picking up speed as it floated down the river, slowed. They had largely caught up with the boats ahead of them, and Ragusa had taken an interest in their new passenger. He put his pole down and called out from across the cargo.
"Quite a handful! Is he all right at least?" Ragusa asked about the boy.
Holo nodded, and Ragusa stroked his chin thoughtfully, exhaling white breath.
| Lawrence carefully removed the document from the boy's hand, which stuck out from underneath the blanket, then unrolled and read it.
It was a declaration of right to collect taxes from vessels on the Roam River, issued by Duke Herman Di Diejin.
In a perfunctorily flowing script that was mostly just hard to read were written directives to that effect, but anyone who had seen the genuine article would know this was a fake.
And of course, there was the matter of the duke's signature and seal.
"Mr. Ragusa, how do you spell Duke Diejin's name?"
"Mm, like so..."
Comparing Ragusa's answer to the signature, Lawrence found that one of the silent lowercase letters was mistaken.
"Also the seal is a fake," added Ragusa. "Copying the true seal is punishable by hanging."
Now that was interesting.
Copying the real seal meant death, but making a similar seal was no crime.
Ragusa shrugged wearily, and Lawrence carefully refolded the document and slipped it back underneath the blanket.
"You'll be paying the extra fare, though, don't forget," said Ragusa.
"Ah, er...yes. Of course."
Holo might not like it, but in the end, it was money that shaped the world.
***
The boy's name was evidently Tote Col.
After the boy had taken a short nap, Holo's stomach started growling, so Lawrence handed out some bread, which Col ate guardedly, like a wild dog.
But his features weren't especially disheveled, which made him seem more like an abandoned dog than a strictly wild one.
"So, how much did you pay for these papers?"
Col hadn't bought just one or two forgeries from the merchant on his travels; in his tattered bag, he had a whole book's worth.
Eating the fist-sized piece of rye bread in two bites, Col answered shortly, "One trenni...and eight lute."
The fact that he mumbled the words so reluctantly had nothing to do with the bread in his mouth.
Given his appearance, the memory of paying out a full trenni and more must have been desperately frustrating.
"That's quite an investment...Was the traveling peddler you bought them from so impressive-looking?"
It was Ragusa who answered Lawrence's question. "Hardly. Dressed in rags, he was, and with no right arm."
Col looked up and nodded, surprised.
"He's famous around here," said Ragusa. "Walks around selling his papers. I bet he said something like this to you, aye? 'Look at this stump of mine—I've risked this much danger to come by these, but I'm not long for this world. I'm thinking of returning home, so I'll turn these deeds over to you.'"
Col's eyes were glazed over—it must have matched what he'd been told nearly word for word.
Swindlers generally had an apprentice with them, and such lines were passed on from master to apprentice.
As to the matter of the man's missing right arm, it suggested he had once been caught by a constable somewhere, and his arm was taken as punishment.
A thief who stole money forfeited a finger, but a swindler who stole trust—that was an arm. A murderer who took life lost his head. If the crime were especially heinous, hanging was evidently worse than decapitation.
In any case, the boy slumped and looked down, the ignominy of having been fooled by a swindler whose untrustworthiness was well-known adding insult to injury.
"Can you read, though?" Lawrence asked as he flipped through the forgeries.
"A little..." came the uncertain reply.
"More than half of these aren't even forgeries."
"...Wh-what do you mean, sir?"
Lawrence found himself a bit impressed at Col's politeness. Perhaps he had indeed worked for a respectable master once. Lawrence and Col's meeting having been what it was, that was a bit surprising.
Col's expression was one of total defeat; he could hardly have looked any more depressed than he did.
Perhaps feeling sorry for him, Holo—who was sitting next to the boy—offered him some more bread.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence carefully removed the document from the boy's hand, which stuck out from underneath the blanket, then unrolled and read it.
It was a declaration of right to collect taxes from vessels on the Roam River, issued by Duke Herman Di Diejin.
In a perfunctorily flowing script that was mostly just hard to read were written directives to that effect, but anyone who had seen the genuine article would know this was a fake.
And of course, there was the matter of the duke's signature and seal.
"Mr. Ragusa, how do you spell Duke Diejin's name?"
"Mm, like so..."
Comparing Ragusa's answer to the signature, Lawrence found that one of the silent lowercase letters was mistaken.
"Also the seal is a fake," added Ragusa. "Copying the true seal is punishable by hanging."
Now that was interesting.
Copying the real seal meant death, but making a similar seal was no crime.
Ragusa shrugged wearily, and Lawrence carefully refolded the document and slipped it back underneath the blanket.
"You'll be paying the extra fare, though, don't forget," said Ragusa.
"Ah, er...yes. Of course."
Holo might not like it, but in the end, it was money that shaped the world.
***
The boy's name was evidently Tote Col.
After the boy had taken a short nap, Holo's stomach started growling, so Lawrence handed out some bread, which Col ate guardedly, like a wild dog.
But his features weren't especially disheveled, which made him seem more like an abandoned dog than a strictly wild one.
"So, how much did you pay for these papers?"
Col hadn't bought just one or two forgeries from the merchant on his travels; in his tattered bag, he had a whole book's worth.
Eating the fist-sized piece of rye bread in two bites, Col answered shortly, "One trenni...and eight lute."
The fact that he mumbled the words so reluctantly had nothing to do with the bread in his mouth.
Given his appearance, the memory of paying out a full trenni and more must have been desperately frustrating.
"That's quite an investment...Was the traveling peddler you bought them from so impressive-looking?"
It was Ragusa who answered Lawrence's question. "Hardly. Dressed in rags, he was, and with no right arm."
Col looked up and nodded, surprised.
"He's famous around here," said Ragusa. "Walks around selling his papers. I bet he said something like this to you, aye? 'Look at this stump of mine—I've risked this much danger to come by these, but I'm not long for this world. I'm thinking of returning home, so I'll turn these deeds over to you.'"
Col's eyes were glazed over—it must have matched what he'd been told nearly word for word.
Swindlers generally had an apprentice with them, and such lines were passed on from master to apprentice.
As to the matter of the man's missing right arm, it suggested he had once been caught by a constable somewhere, and his arm was taken as punishment.
A thief who stole money forfeited a finger, but a swindler who stole trust—that was an arm. A murderer who took life lost his head. If the crime were especially heinous, hanging was evidently worse than decapitation.
In any case, the boy slumped and looked down, the ignominy of having been fooled by a swindler whose untrustworthiness was well-known adding insult to injury.
"Can you read, though?" Lawrence asked as he flipped through the forgeries.
"A little..." came the uncertain reply.
"More than half of these aren't even forgeries."
"...Wh-what do you mean, sir?"
Lawrence found himself a bit impressed at Col's politeness. Perhaps he had indeed worked for a respectable master once. Lawrence and Col's meeting having been what it was, that was a bit surprising.
Col's expression was one of total defeat; he could hardly have looked any more depressed than he did.
Perhaps feeling sorry for him, Holo—who was sitting next to the boy—offered him some more bread.
| She cocked her head, but when she tried to show them to Col, he shook his head.
Perhaps it felt too much like looking upon his own failure.
"If this is the kind of thing you bought, I see them all the time. These papers themselves aren't good for drawing any money, but they're good for getting a laugh among merchants. They were stolen from some trading firm somewhere and have been passed around from one merchant to another since then," said Lawrence.
"One of my customers got tricked by them, too," added Ragusa as he nudged the boat's prow away from a rock in the river.
"Who would steal this?" asked Holo.
"Usually an apprentice at the firm who's gotten tired of being worked too hard—they'll grab them on their way out as a final piece of pay. Rival firms will pay a decent price for the information they contain, and of course, there are swindlers who will buy them up as well. It's advice that gets passed along from one young apprentice to another. If you take money, the company will come after you in earnest. But with something like this, the firm has its reputation to consider, so it's harder for them to pursue."
"Huh?"
"Consider how it would look for a firm to madly chase down a missing copy of its ledger—people would think there was something extraordinary on that ledger, wouldn't they? And that's bad for business."
Holo nodded, impressed by this angle she hadn't considered.
Lawrence flipped through page after page as he talked but seemed to be finding them genuinely interesting.
It wasn't every day that one could easily see which firms had ordered which goods from which shops in which towns.
Col's situation was a sad one, though.
"You know what they say, 'Ignorance is a sin.' What do you say, lad—you've no money anyway, so what say I buy these in exchange for your food and fare?"
The boy's eyebrows twitched in surprise, but he didn't look up, instead staring intently at the inside wall of the boat.
No doubt he was making some calculations in his mind.
There might be something genuine hidden somewhere in that sheaf of paper, or the pages might all be useless, but if he let this opportunity pass he'd never again meet someone willing to trade for them. And yet—he'd paid more than a trenni for the lot of them...
Just as Holo often bragged of her ability to see through Lawrence's intentions, Lawrence himself was confident in his ability to figure profit-loss calculations.
Yet unlike Holo, that did not come from an ability to discern people's subtlest shifts in expression, but rather from his long experience as a merchant.
"F-for how much?" asked Col.
As though bearing some grudge, he looked carefully up at Lawrence—perhaps because he felt that if he betrayed any lack of confidence, the price would be beaten down.
His effort was quite charming, and Lawrence had to force himself not to smile at it; he coughed and calmed himself. "Ten lute."
"..." Col's face twitched, and he took a deep breath before answering. "Th-that's too low."
"I see. Keep them, then," replied Lawrence immediately, thrusting the sheaf back at Col.
What little vitality Col had mustered drained immediately from his face.
His disappointment showing so clearly made him look more tattered and worn than if he hadn't tried to put on a brave face in the first place.
Col bit his lip as he looked back and forth from the sheaf of papers to Lawrence.
His stubbornness in trying to sell the papers for a bit more had dropped his profits to zero. That same stubborn mask would now be an obstacle if he wanted to ask for anything more.
That was surely what he was thinking.
When he calmed himself a bit, he saw Holo and Ragusa's indulgent smiles and must have realized that it was showing his weakness that would allow him a means of escape.
A merchant will throw away all of his pride if it brings profit.
Of course, Col was not a merchant, and he was yet young.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She cocked her head, but when she tried to show them to Col, he shook his head.
Perhaps it felt too much like looking upon his own failure.
"If this is the kind of thing you bought, I see them all the time. These papers themselves aren't good for drawing any money, but they're good for getting a laugh among merchants. They were stolen from some trading firm somewhere and have been passed around from one merchant to another since then," said Lawrence.
"One of my customers got tricked by them, too," added Ragusa as he nudged the boat's prow away from a rock in the river.
"Who would steal this?" asked Holo.
"Usually an apprentice at the firm who's gotten tired of being worked too hard—they'll grab them on their way out as a final piece of pay. Rival firms will pay a decent price for the information they contain, and of course, there are swindlers who will buy them up as well. It's advice that gets passed along from one young apprentice to another. If you take money, the company will come after you in earnest. But with something like this, the firm has its reputation to consider, so it's harder for them to pursue."
"Huh?"
"Consider how it would look for a firm to madly chase down a missing copy of its ledger—people would think there was something extraordinary on that ledger, wouldn't they? And that's bad for business."
Holo nodded, impressed by this angle she hadn't considered.
Lawrence flipped through page after page as he talked but seemed to be finding them genuinely interesting.
It wasn't every day that one could easily see which firms had ordered which goods from which shops in which towns.
Col's situation was a sad one, though.
"You know what they say, 'Ignorance is a sin.' What do you say, lad—you've no money anyway, so what say I buy these in exchange for your food and fare?"
The boy's eyebrows twitched in surprise, but he didn't look up, instead staring intently at the inside wall of the boat.
No doubt he was making some calculations in his mind.
There might be something genuine hidden somewhere in that sheaf of paper, or the pages might all be useless, but if he let this opportunity pass he'd never again meet someone willing to trade for them. And yet—he'd paid more than a trenni for the lot of them...
Just as Holo often bragged of her ability to see through Lawrence's intentions, Lawrence himself was confident in his ability to figure profit-loss calculations.
Yet unlike Holo, that did not come from an ability to discern people's subtlest shifts in expression, but rather from his long experience as a merchant.
"F-for how much?" asked Col.
As though bearing some grudge, he looked carefully up at Lawrence—perhaps because he felt that if he betrayed any lack of confidence, the price would be beaten down.
His effort was quite charming, and Lawrence had to force himself not to smile at it; he coughed and calmed himself. "Ten lute."
"..." Col's face twitched, and he took a deep breath before answering. "Th-that's too low."
"I see. Keep them, then," replied Lawrence immediately, thrusting the sheaf back at Col.
What little vitality Col had mustered drained immediately from his face.
His disappointment showing so clearly made him look more tattered and worn than if he hadn't tried to put on a brave face in the first place.
Col bit his lip as he looked back and forth from the sheaf of papers to Lawrence.
His stubbornness in trying to sell the papers for a bit more had dropped his profits to zero. That same stubborn mask would now be an obstacle if he wanted to ask for anything more.
That was surely what he was thinking.
When he calmed himself a bit, he saw Holo and Ragusa's indulgent smiles and must have realized that it was showing his weakness that would allow him a means of escape.
A merchant will throw away all of his pride if it brings profit.
Of course, Col was not a merchant, and he was yet young.
| Col's eyes widened, as though his face had just broken through the surface of the water, but he then immediately looked down.
His relief was obvious, and obvious was his desire to hide it.
Lawrence looked at Holo, who bared her fangs at him, as if to say, "Don't tease the boy overmuch."
"I accept your offer...," said Col.
"That's not quite enough to make it all the way to Kerube, though. We'll have to let you off on the way, or else..." Lawrence looked askance at the good-natured boatman who had been enjoying the proceedings thus far.
"Ah, I suppose it's all right," said Ragusa with a laugh, taking Lawrence's meaning. "There'll be odd jobs on along the way. Lend a hand, and I'm sure I can make it worth your time."
Col looked about like a lost puppy, then gave a hesitant nod.
Toll checkpoints along the river were so common they were a nuisance.
All you needed to collect some money was the ability to stop boat traffic, so it was understandable—but without them, the journey would have been twice as fast.
Even worse, the more affluent landlords could afford to build checkpoints that connected overland roads on either side of the river, which would then become places where boats could load and unload cargo.
Soon people would gather to sell food and drink to the boatmen, and the checkpoint would take on aspects of a roadside inn, and many of them had come to be miniature towns in their own right.
All this slowed river traffic, and there were even times when walking would have been faster.
Ragusa would try to hurry his boat through, but he had nothing on those who were hauling furs.
The fur traders needed to reach Kerube as soon as they possibly could and would throw so much money at the toll collectors that the collectors could hardly complain, and despite the narrow river and Ragusa's skill, his boat was passed by.
"We'll never catch the vixen like this..."
They were stopped at the latest of who knew how many checkpoints, where Ragusa evidently had some appointment he had to keep.
He immediately started talking with a merchant who approached, and calling out to Col, he began moving cargo.
Thus it was that one boat passed them and then another; Holo was leaning against Lawrence as she napped, but her eyes opened, and she watched the boats vaguely and muttered.
Ever since boarding the boat, Holo had been exceedingly sleepy, so Lawrence wondered if she was feeling poorly, but then he remembered how she had cried when he had gone to pick her up from being held as collateral by the Delink Company.
It had been many a year since Lawrence himself had cried, so he had forgotten—crying took a surprising amount of energy.
"Still, it's faster than a wagon," replied Lawrence vaguely as he looked through the papers he had bought from Col.
"I wonder," said Holo.
The rocking boat began to feel like a cradle.
Ocean waves could easily make one sick, but the gentle motion of the river was rather conducive to napping and was far from unpleasant.
"That boy, he's quite earnest."
"Hmm? Oh yes."
Holo was watching Col move cargo on the pier.
Just as she said, Col was following Ragusa's instructions without complaint as he helped in preparing goods for shipment. He couldn't quite manage carrying the large wheat-filled bags from Ragusa's boat, so instead, he carried smaller bags aboard, which seemed to be filled with some sort of legume.
Watching him work now, Lawrence could scarcely imagine that this was the same boy who'd called out "Master" as he clung to a final thread of hope.
Humans were capable of incredible feats when pressed.
"Oh, indeed, to get taken in the way he was, he would have to be earnest."
Given the paltry amount of one trenni and eight lute, Lawrence imagined Col had been taken for everything he had.
Most people who are swindled were quite earnest, whether greedy or not. They would never imagine that the tale being told to them was a lie.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Col's eyes widened, as though his face had just broken through the surface of the water, but he then immediately looked down.
His relief was obvious, and obvious was his desire to hide it.
Lawrence looked at Holo, who bared her fangs at him, as if to say, "Don't tease the boy overmuch."
"I accept your offer...," said Col.
"That's not quite enough to make it all the way to Kerube, though. We'll have to let you off on the way, or else..." Lawrence looked askance at the good-natured boatman who had been enjoying the proceedings thus far.
"Ah, I suppose it's all right," said Ragusa with a laugh, taking Lawrence's meaning. "There'll be odd jobs on along the way. Lend a hand, and I'm sure I can make it worth your time."
Col looked about like a lost puppy, then gave a hesitant nod.
Toll checkpoints along the river were so common they were a nuisance.
All you needed to collect some money was the ability to stop boat traffic, so it was understandable—but without them, the journey would have been twice as fast.
Even worse, the more affluent landlords could afford to build checkpoints that connected overland roads on either side of the river, which would then become places where boats could load and unload cargo.
Soon people would gather to sell food and drink to the boatmen, and the checkpoint would take on aspects of a roadside inn, and many of them had come to be miniature towns in their own right.
All this slowed river traffic, and there were even times when walking would have been faster.
Ragusa would try to hurry his boat through, but he had nothing on those who were hauling furs.
The fur traders needed to reach Kerube as soon as they possibly could and would throw so much money at the toll collectors that the collectors could hardly complain, and despite the narrow river and Ragusa's skill, his boat was passed by.
"We'll never catch the vixen like this..."
They were stopped at the latest of who knew how many checkpoints, where Ragusa evidently had some appointment he had to keep.
He immediately started talking with a merchant who approached, and calling out to Col, he began moving cargo.
Thus it was that one boat passed them and then another; Holo was leaning against Lawrence as she napped, but her eyes opened, and she watched the boats vaguely and muttered.
Ever since boarding the boat, Holo had been exceedingly sleepy, so Lawrence wondered if she was feeling poorly, but then he remembered how she had cried when he had gone to pick her up from being held as collateral by the Delink Company.
It had been many a year since Lawrence himself had cried, so he had forgotten—crying took a surprising amount of energy.
"Still, it's faster than a wagon," replied Lawrence vaguely as he looked through the papers he had bought from Col.
"I wonder," said Holo.
The rocking boat began to feel like a cradle.
Ocean waves could easily make one sick, but the gentle motion of the river was rather conducive to napping and was far from unpleasant.
"That boy, he's quite earnest."
"Hmm? Oh yes."
Holo was watching Col move cargo on the pier.
Just as she said, Col was following Ragusa's instructions without complaint as he helped in preparing goods for shipment. He couldn't quite manage carrying the large wheat-filled bags from Ragusa's boat, so instead, he carried smaller bags aboard, which seemed to be filled with some sort of legume.
Watching him work now, Lawrence could scarcely imagine that this was the same boy who'd called out "Master" as he clung to a final thread of hope.
Humans were capable of incredible feats when pressed.
"Oh, indeed, to get taken in the way he was, he would have to be earnest."
Given the paltry amount of one trenni and eight lute, Lawrence imagined Col had been taken for everything he had.
Most people who are swindled were quite earnest, whether greedy or not. They would never imagine that the tale being told to them was a lie.
| Lawrence escaped into his sheaf of papers.
"Heh. So, have you found anything of interest?"
"...A few things, I suppose."
"Hmph. For example?" asked Holo as she casually looked over at the pier, whereupon something seemed to surprise her.
Lawrence followed her gaze and saw a mule loaded so heavily it seemed on the verge of collapse.
Ragusa and Col had been loading wares aboard this traveling merchant's mule.
Its appearance was a bit of an act, but Holo made a face as though she sympathized with the beast.
"For example, here. An order letter for copper coins."
"Copper...coins? Why would you buy money of all things? Are there still others playing at that scheme from before?"
"No, this is just because they need them. They've paid a bit above market price, look. 'Per usual, transport costs and customs duties are the responsibility of the buyer.' This is proof of regular purchases."
"Hmm...wait a moment. I feel as though I remember hearing something. Why would they do that...? I seem to remember..." Holo closed her eyes as wrinkles appeared in her furrowed brow.
Outside of speculation, there were any number of reasons to buy up currency.
But in the case of the low-value copper coins recorded on the sheet, there was only one.
Holo looked up and smiled. "I have it. It's for small change!"
"Oh ho, you've been paying attention."
Holo swelled up and grinned at Lawrence's praise.
"Indeed," Lawrence continued. "These are being specifically imported to be used as change. If someone comes to shop, and you don't have change ready, you won't do proper business. Travelers constantly take small change out of a city. This coin is probably crossing the channel by way of Kerube. The island kingdom of Winfiel is on the other side of the channel, and it's famously short on currency. That's why currency that circulates this way is called 'rat coin.'"
Holo looked at him blankly.
Something about her face made Lawrence want to poke her nose with his finger.
"When war is imminent or a nation's situation is unstable, travelers and money flow out of the region, like rats fleeing a sinking ship—hence the term."
"I see. Quite an apt phrase."
"Indeed, I'd quite like to meet whoever invented it...hmm?"
As he continued to read the paper in question, Lawrence stopped talking when his eyes fell upon something.
He felt as though he had seen the company's name somewhere.
A short cry came from the direction of the pier as Lawrence tried to remember why the name seemed familiar.
When he looked up, he saw Col about to fall from the edge—but fortunately he avoided drowned rathood as Ragusa grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up; he dangled there like a helpless kitten.
What Lawrence heard next were laughing voices and what he saw was Col's sheepish smile.
He didn't seem a bad sort.
Holo's keen eye for people seemed to have been proven reliable yet again.
"So? What is it?" she asked.
"Hmm? Ah, yes, the company name that's written here...I feel as though I've seen it somewhere. Maybe it was somewhere in these papers."
As Lawrence was leafing through them, the boat suddenly heaved.
Ragusa and Col had finished their labors and returned to the vessel.
"Well done. You're quite the hard worker," said Holo to Col, who had returned to the boat's prow, and his stiff face softened somewhat.
He was probably a quiet lad by nature, but he seemed to have noticed Lawrence flipping through the stack of papers as though looking for something.
Col's face was curious as he watched Lawrence.
"Unfortunately, there's nothing worth money here," said Lawrence without looking up; he sensed the boy flinching.
Holo smiled slightly, punching Lawrence in the shoulder as if to say, "Don't tease him."
Lawrence did understand the boy's hopes, though.
He himself had once been taken in by something similar.
"Ah, here we are."
"Oh?"
Lawrence pulled out a single sheet of paper.
It was still clean, and the writing on it was neat.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence escaped into his sheaf of papers.
"Heh. So, have you found anything of interest?"
"...A few things, I suppose."
"Hmph. For example?" asked Holo as she casually looked over at the pier, whereupon something seemed to surprise her.
Lawrence followed her gaze and saw a mule loaded so heavily it seemed on the verge of collapse.
Ragusa and Col had been loading wares aboard this traveling merchant's mule.
Its appearance was a bit of an act, but Holo made a face as though she sympathized with the beast.
"For example, here. An order letter for copper coins."
"Copper...coins? Why would you buy money of all things? Are there still others playing at that scheme from before?"
"No, this is just because they need them. They've paid a bit above market price, look. 'Per usual, transport costs and customs duties are the responsibility of the buyer.' This is proof of regular purchases."
"Hmm...wait a moment. I feel as though I remember hearing something. Why would they do that...? I seem to remember..." Holo closed her eyes as wrinkles appeared in her furrowed brow.
Outside of speculation, there were any number of reasons to buy up currency.
But in the case of the low-value copper coins recorded on the sheet, there was only one.
Holo looked up and smiled. "I have it. It's for small change!"
"Oh ho, you've been paying attention."
Holo swelled up and grinned at Lawrence's praise.
"Indeed," Lawrence continued. "These are being specifically imported to be used as change. If someone comes to shop, and you don't have change ready, you won't do proper business. Travelers constantly take small change out of a city. This coin is probably crossing the channel by way of Kerube. The island kingdom of Winfiel is on the other side of the channel, and it's famously short on currency. That's why currency that circulates this way is called 'rat coin.'"
Holo looked at him blankly.
Something about her face made Lawrence want to poke her nose with his finger.
"When war is imminent or a nation's situation is unstable, travelers and money flow out of the region, like rats fleeing a sinking ship—hence the term."
"I see. Quite an apt phrase."
"Indeed, I'd quite like to meet whoever invented it...hmm?"
As he continued to read the paper in question, Lawrence stopped talking when his eyes fell upon something.
He felt as though he had seen the company's name somewhere.
A short cry came from the direction of the pier as Lawrence tried to remember why the name seemed familiar.
When he looked up, he saw Col about to fall from the edge—but fortunately he avoided drowned rathood as Ragusa grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up; he dangled there like a helpless kitten.
What Lawrence heard next were laughing voices and what he saw was Col's sheepish smile.
He didn't seem a bad sort.
Holo's keen eye for people seemed to have been proven reliable yet again.
"So? What is it?" she asked.
"Hmm? Ah, yes, the company name that's written here...I feel as though I've seen it somewhere. Maybe it was somewhere in these papers."
As Lawrence was leafing through them, the boat suddenly heaved.
Ragusa and Col had finished their labors and returned to the vessel.
"Well done. You're quite the hard worker," said Holo to Col, who had returned to the boat's prow, and his stiff face softened somewhat.
He was probably a quiet lad by nature, but he seemed to have noticed Lawrence flipping through the stack of papers as though looking for something.
Col's face was curious as he watched Lawrence.
"Unfortunately, there's nothing worth money here," said Lawrence without looking up; he sensed the boy flinching.
Holo smiled slightly, punching Lawrence in the shoulder as if to say, "Don't tease him."
Lawrence did understand the boy's hopes, though.
He himself had once been taken in by something similar.
"Ah, here we are."
"Oh?"
Lawrence pulled out a single sheet of paper.
It was still clean, and the writing on it was neat.
| The information networks of companies like these, while not strictly worldwide, brought them reports from distant branch shops and allies, and when added to their proactive gathering of news from local sources, they were like a mountain of jewels to an independent merchant.
Looking at a list of the goods such a company was sending out to distant locals was like looking into a mirror reflecting the information that company had gathered.
Of course, one had to know how to interpret such knowledge.
"Which is why this has no monetary value."
"Er, um, I mean—" Col had been staring holes into Lawrence's coin purse, but flustered now, he looked away.
Lawrence smiled, then stood and extended his hand. "Here."
Col looked at Lawrence searchingly, then turned his eyes to the paper.
"See? 'Recorded by Ted Reynolds of Jean Company,' it says."
The rocking of the boat made it difficult to read, so despite the cold, Lawrence emerged from under the blanket and sat down next to Col. The boy looked up at Lawrence with trepidation, but his interest seemed to be with the paper.
"What else?" he pressed Lawrence childishly, his eyes a misty blue.
"The destination is an island nation beyond the channel from Kerube, downriver. It's called the kingdom of Winfiel. Oh, also—this is the home of the vixen." These last words were aimed at Holo.
Lawrence could see her ears twitch beneath her hood.
Even if she didn't plan to pursue the woman, Holo seemed not to harbor any warm feelings toward her, either.
"Anyway, this is a memo of a variety of different goods collected in the port of Kerube that will be sold to another company—the name isn't here—in Winfiel. These are the goods. Can you read them?"
To the question of whether or not he could read, Col answered, "A little."
He squinted as though his eyesight was poor, staring intently at the words written on the page.
His mouth seemed glued shut for a time, but at length it opened. "...Wax, glass bottles, books...buckles? Iron plate...er...tin, goldsmithing. And...ah, nee—?"
"Eni. It's a kind of coin."
"Eni?"
"Indeed. You're quite good."
Back when he had been an apprentice, Lawrence had never been happier than when his master praised him and mussed his hair. He recognized that he was not quite as rough as his master had been, so he patted Col's head somewhat more lightly than his master would have.
Col ducked his head in surprise, then smiled bashfully.
"Next to the names of the goods are the amounts and the prices. Unfortunately we can't wave this aloft and expect anyone to give us money for it. It would be a different story if there were evidence of smuggling on it, though."
"There isn't any?"
"Unfortunately not. So long as they don't write, 'These are smuggled goods,' there's no way to tell. Unless they're bringing in something obviously prohibited, that is."
"I see...," said Col with a nod, looking back at the paper. "Er, so then..."
"Yes?"
"What is it about this paper?"
No doubt he wanted to know why Lawrence had gone looking for this one sheet in particular.
"Oh, on another sheet there was a record of a copper coin order, and this was the company that placed the order. Though they're made across the sea, here in Ploania territory, they're a copper coin that's mostly used in Winfiel as small change..."
As Lawrence talked, a strange feeling came over him.
He looked up, then stood.
Opposite him, Holo had been vaguely paging through the sheaf, but she now looked up in surprise. "What is it?"
"Where's the paper from before?"
"Mm. Here it is."
Holo produced a page with a rustling sound, handing it to Lawrence.
Holding the memorandum in his right hand, Lawrence took the order sheet from Holo with his left.
As he looked back and forth between the two, he realized the source of the strange feeling.
The two documents were dated about two months apart. The company was the same.
The copper coins that had been bought up with the sheet in his left hand had been exported on the memo in his right.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The information networks of companies like these, while not strictly worldwide, brought them reports from distant branch shops and allies, and when added to their proactive gathering of news from local sources, they were like a mountain of jewels to an independent merchant.
Looking at a list of the goods such a company was sending out to distant locals was like looking into a mirror reflecting the information that company had gathered.
Of course, one had to know how to interpret such knowledge.
"Which is why this has no monetary value."
"Er, um, I mean—" Col had been staring holes into Lawrence's coin purse, but flustered now, he looked away.
Lawrence smiled, then stood and extended his hand. "Here."
Col looked at Lawrence searchingly, then turned his eyes to the paper.
"See? 'Recorded by Ted Reynolds of Jean Company,' it says."
The rocking of the boat made it difficult to read, so despite the cold, Lawrence emerged from under the blanket and sat down next to Col. The boy looked up at Lawrence with trepidation, but his interest seemed to be with the paper.
"What else?" he pressed Lawrence childishly, his eyes a misty blue.
"The destination is an island nation beyond the channel from Kerube, downriver. It's called the kingdom of Winfiel. Oh, also—this is the home of the vixen." These last words were aimed at Holo.
Lawrence could see her ears twitch beneath her hood.
Even if she didn't plan to pursue the woman, Holo seemed not to harbor any warm feelings toward her, either.
"Anyway, this is a memo of a variety of different goods collected in the port of Kerube that will be sold to another company—the name isn't here—in Winfiel. These are the goods. Can you read them?"
To the question of whether or not he could read, Col answered, "A little."
He squinted as though his eyesight was poor, staring intently at the words written on the page.
His mouth seemed glued shut for a time, but at length it opened. "...Wax, glass bottles, books...buckles? Iron plate...er...tin, goldsmithing. And...ah, nee—?"
"Eni. It's a kind of coin."
"Eni?"
"Indeed. You're quite good."
Back when he had been an apprentice, Lawrence had never been happier than when his master praised him and mussed his hair. He recognized that he was not quite as rough as his master had been, so he patted Col's head somewhat more lightly than his master would have.
Col ducked his head in surprise, then smiled bashfully.
"Next to the names of the goods are the amounts and the prices. Unfortunately we can't wave this aloft and expect anyone to give us money for it. It would be a different story if there were evidence of smuggling on it, though."
"There isn't any?"
"Unfortunately not. So long as they don't write, 'These are smuggled goods,' there's no way to tell. Unless they're bringing in something obviously prohibited, that is."
"I see...," said Col with a nod, looking back at the paper. "Er, so then..."
"Yes?"
"What is it about this paper?"
No doubt he wanted to know why Lawrence had gone looking for this one sheet in particular.
"Oh, on another sheet there was a record of a copper coin order, and this was the company that placed the order. Though they're made across the sea, here in Ploania territory, they're a copper coin that's mostly used in Winfiel as small change..."
As Lawrence talked, a strange feeling came over him.
He looked up, then stood.
Opposite him, Holo had been vaguely paging through the sheaf, but she now looked up in surprise. "What is it?"
"Where's the paper from before?"
"Mm. Here it is."
Holo produced a page with a rustling sound, handing it to Lawrence.
Holding the memorandum in his right hand, Lawrence took the order sheet from Holo with his left.
As he looked back and forth between the two, he realized the source of the strange feeling.
The two documents were dated about two months apart. The company was the same.
The copper coins that had been bought up with the sheet in his left hand had been exported on the memo in his right.
| Since the supposed accomplice-less swindler operated out of this area, then he would have gotten materials from a trading firm somewhere along the Roam River.
By coincidence, he had put together orders and sales from upstream and downstream.
But what gave Lawrence that queer feeling was not the coincidence.
No one was more obsessed with numbers than a merchant.
Only a fortune-teller was equally so.
"But the numbers don't add up," said Lawrence.
"Hmm?" replied Holo. Col leaned in closer—evidently his eyesight really wasn't very good.
"Here it says they bought up fifty-seven chests, but the export was sixty. That's three more."
"...Is there something wrong with that?"
Lawrence laid the two sheets of paper down on the deck and pointed at the relevant spots, but Holo and Col alike only looked mystified.
"Well, I mean...with money, for whoever makes it, the more they make, the more they profit. But because there's so much profit in it, the number of sheets they can issue is strictly limited. If 'money is the root of all evil,' as they say, then that goes double for creating money. The temptation is very strong. So normally, they are very careful to make only just as much as is ordered."
"But they may or may not send everything they have on hand, may they not? If the destination is across the sea and the ship is unsteady, they might have to send less than the usual amount. So they added the remainder there."
It wasn't a bad notion, but to have only three chests left over—it was hard to imagine.
In any case, Lawrence knew that there was more likely to be some kind of mitigating circumstance that explained the discrepancy.
It was natural for a merchant to be suspicious when confronted by a strange phenomenon.
"Well, that may be so, but what it comes down to is a question of belief. I simply believe there is something strange here."
Holo pursed her lips and shrugged. "And what are these chests, then? What do chests have to do with coin counts?"
Lawrence was about to ask Holo if she was joking when he saw Col nod, evidently also confused.
Held between their questioning looks, Lawrence was mildly taken aback—until he realized he had forgotten that a merchant's common sense was not like the rest of the world's.
"Basically, you don't carry a large amount of coins all jangling around in a bag. It takes too long to count."
"Your jokes are clever ones," said Holo lightly, eliciting a smile from Col; their eyes met.
A merchant's wisdom was born of experience.
And much of that wisdom was counterintuitive.
"Suppose you need to transport ten thousand coins. How much time do you think counting those coins will take? If you've moved them all jumbled together in a sack, you have to take them out, pick them up one at a time, then line them up and count them. For one person, it's surely half a day's work."
"So use ten people."
"True. But when it comes to worrying about thieves, it's worse with two people than one, and worse still with three. If just one person is doing the counting, and the count comes out wrong, you need only doubt that one person. But with ten, you'd have to suspect all of them, and you'd need a lookout to watch them for theft. That's no business at all."
"Mm," said Holo with a nod; Col cocked his head curiously.
They seemed not to understand the advantage of a chest. "Furthermore, you might not notice if a sack was to be stolen while in transit."
"But is that not the same for a chest?"
"...Oh! I-I see!" Col's eyes shone as he raised his hand excitedly.
Then he seemed to realize he'd just raised his hand without thinking and hastily lowered it—as though trying to hide a mistake.
Holo tilted her head curiously, but as for Lawrence, seeing the boy's actions came as a surprise.
He acted every bit like a student.
"Are you a student?" he asked.
It would certainly have explained the boy's curiosity, his strangely polite speech, and his surprisingly deep knowledge of things.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Since the supposed accomplice-less swindler operated out of this area, then he would have gotten materials from a trading firm somewhere along the Roam River.
By coincidence, he had put together orders and sales from upstream and downstream.
But what gave Lawrence that queer feeling was not the coincidence.
No one was more obsessed with numbers than a merchant.
Only a fortune-teller was equally so.
"But the numbers don't add up," said Lawrence.
"Hmm?" replied Holo. Col leaned in closer—evidently his eyesight really wasn't very good.
"Here it says they bought up fifty-seven chests, but the export was sixty. That's three more."
"...Is there something wrong with that?"
Lawrence laid the two sheets of paper down on the deck and pointed at the relevant spots, but Holo and Col alike only looked mystified.
"Well, I mean...with money, for whoever makes it, the more they make, the more they profit. But because there's so much profit in it, the number of sheets they can issue is strictly limited. If 'money is the root of all evil,' as they say, then that goes double for creating money. The temptation is very strong. So normally, they are very careful to make only just as much as is ordered."
"But they may or may not send everything they have on hand, may they not? If the destination is across the sea and the ship is unsteady, they might have to send less than the usual amount. So they added the remainder there."
It wasn't a bad notion, but to have only three chests left over—it was hard to imagine.
In any case, Lawrence knew that there was more likely to be some kind of mitigating circumstance that explained the discrepancy.
It was natural for a merchant to be suspicious when confronted by a strange phenomenon.
"Well, that may be so, but what it comes down to is a question of belief. I simply believe there is something strange here."
Holo pursed her lips and shrugged. "And what are these chests, then? What do chests have to do with coin counts?"
Lawrence was about to ask Holo if she was joking when he saw Col nod, evidently also confused.
Held between their questioning looks, Lawrence was mildly taken aback—until he realized he had forgotten that a merchant's common sense was not like the rest of the world's.
"Basically, you don't carry a large amount of coins all jangling around in a bag. It takes too long to count."
"Your jokes are clever ones," said Holo lightly, eliciting a smile from Col; their eyes met.
A merchant's wisdom was born of experience.
And much of that wisdom was counterintuitive.
"Suppose you need to transport ten thousand coins. How much time do you think counting those coins will take? If you've moved them all jumbled together in a sack, you have to take them out, pick them up one at a time, then line them up and count them. For one person, it's surely half a day's work."
"So use ten people."
"True. But when it comes to worrying about thieves, it's worse with two people than one, and worse still with three. If just one person is doing the counting, and the count comes out wrong, you need only doubt that one person. But with ten, you'd have to suspect all of them, and you'd need a lookout to watch them for theft. That's no business at all."
"Mm," said Holo with a nod; Col cocked his head curiously.
They seemed not to understand the advantage of a chest. "Furthermore, you might not notice if a sack was to be stolen while in transit."
"But is that not the same for a chest?"
"...Oh! I-I see!" Col's eyes shone as he raised his hand excitedly.
Then he seemed to realize he'd just raised his hand without thinking and hastily lowered it—as though trying to hide a mistake.
Holo tilted her head curiously, but as for Lawrence, seeing the boy's actions came as a surprise.
He acted every bit like a student.
"Are you a student?" he asked.
It would certainly have explained the boy's curiosity, his strangely polite speech, and his surprisingly deep knowledge of things.
| Lawrence was dumbfounded—but of course, he knew the reason for this reaction.
He calmed himself and smiled. "I'm but a simple traveling merchant. It's all right, lad."
Col trembled, and Lawrence smiled.
Holo looked back and forth between the two, confused, but seemed to more or less guess at the situation.
"Hmph," she muttered, then approached Col, who couldn't back up any farther lest he find himself in the river. She held her hand out to him.
"My companion is a greedy merchant, but he's also so softhearted I don't know what to do with him. You needn't be afraid."
The same smile had a rather different value when worn by a woman rather than a man.
On top of that, Holo's features were certainly pleasant.
Still frightened, Col tried to squirm away when Holo took hold of his arm, but as she pulled him close, he stopped resisting—in his way, he was just like Holo.
"Heh. Come now, don't cry. All is well."
There was something novel and fresh about seeing Holo so skillfully comfort Col, perhaps because Lawrence always saw her at her most abrasive.
The slender lines of her body seemed if anything to incite the protective instincts of men, but within her body was a wisewolf that had protected a village for centuries—surely a being worthy of being called a god.
Even the great heroes of the area could surely not match her generosity.
"It's just as she says. So, what did you understand?" asked Lawrence. For the nonce, it would be better to demonstrate that he had no interest in the fact that Col was a student and instead talk about something entirely unrelated.
Holo seemed to feel the same way, and she slowly released her grip on his arm as she said something softly.
Though a tinge of his earlier fear remained in his eyes, Col seemed to regain some degree of calm.
It was perhaps out of a sense of male pride that he tried to hide his tears by wiping them away, then looked up. "Y-you're really not...?"
"No. I swear to the gods."
These were the magic words.
Col took a deep breath and sniffed loudly.
For Holo's part, she had a complicated look on her face as she smiled ruefully.
"S-so...you want to know why...the coins are in chests?"
"Yes."
"Is it not because, er...with a chest, the coins can be packed snugly within?"
Holo wrinkled her brow.
"An excellent answer. It's just so. Chests of a set size are chosen and coins packed precisely into them. So long as the chest size or coin thickness doesn't change, the coins will always fit exactly into the chest, and if even a single one is stolen, it will be immediately obvious. Also, you will always know exactly how many coins a given chest holds. There's no need for extra guards nor extra manpower to count coins. It's a better system in every way," said Lawrence, smiling at Col. "Years ago, I would never have conceived of this. Seems you really are an educated lad."
Col straightened in surprise, then smiled sheepishly.
In contrast, Holo looked entirely uninterested. It was difficult to know whether or not she really hadn't also figured the question out—her kind heart might have led her to keep quiet.
"But if this three-chest discrepancy really does point to something out of the ordinary, that would be interesting," said Lawrence pointedly to Holo, who shrugged as if to say, "I've had it with getting into trouble."
If she was being like this now and if Lawrence was to decide he wanted to chase down Eve, she might well come up with a reason not to.
"Er, uhm—," Col interrupted their wordless exchange.
"Mm?"
"What could be 'out of the ordinary?' Just for example, I mean." Col's bashful smile vanished, replaced with a serious expression.
Lawrence was slightly surprised, and Holo glanced at Col, then met Lawrence's gaze.
"Just for example, eh? Hmm. As proof of illicit coin minting, say."
Col's breath caught in his throat. Illicit minting was a serious crime, indeed.
Lawrence smiled nervously. "That's an example, though—just an example!"
Disappointed, Col slumped.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence was dumbfounded—but of course, he knew the reason for this reaction.
He calmed himself and smiled. "I'm but a simple traveling merchant. It's all right, lad."
Col trembled, and Lawrence smiled.
Holo looked back and forth between the two, confused, but seemed to more or less guess at the situation.
"Hmph," she muttered, then approached Col, who couldn't back up any farther lest he find himself in the river. She held her hand out to him.
"My companion is a greedy merchant, but he's also so softhearted I don't know what to do with him. You needn't be afraid."
The same smile had a rather different value when worn by a woman rather than a man.
On top of that, Holo's features were certainly pleasant.
Still frightened, Col tried to squirm away when Holo took hold of his arm, but as she pulled him close, he stopped resisting—in his way, he was just like Holo.
"Heh. Come now, don't cry. All is well."
There was something novel and fresh about seeing Holo so skillfully comfort Col, perhaps because Lawrence always saw her at her most abrasive.
The slender lines of her body seemed if anything to incite the protective instincts of men, but within her body was a wisewolf that had protected a village for centuries—surely a being worthy of being called a god.
Even the great heroes of the area could surely not match her generosity.
"It's just as she says. So, what did you understand?" asked Lawrence. For the nonce, it would be better to demonstrate that he had no interest in the fact that Col was a student and instead talk about something entirely unrelated.
Holo seemed to feel the same way, and she slowly released her grip on his arm as she said something softly.
Though a tinge of his earlier fear remained in his eyes, Col seemed to regain some degree of calm.
It was perhaps out of a sense of male pride that he tried to hide his tears by wiping them away, then looked up. "Y-you're really not...?"
"No. I swear to the gods."
These were the magic words.
Col took a deep breath and sniffed loudly.
For Holo's part, she had a complicated look on her face as she smiled ruefully.
"S-so...you want to know why...the coins are in chests?"
"Yes."
"Is it not because, er...with a chest, the coins can be packed snugly within?"
Holo wrinkled her brow.
"An excellent answer. It's just so. Chests of a set size are chosen and coins packed precisely into them. So long as the chest size or coin thickness doesn't change, the coins will always fit exactly into the chest, and if even a single one is stolen, it will be immediately obvious. Also, you will always know exactly how many coins a given chest holds. There's no need for extra guards nor extra manpower to count coins. It's a better system in every way," said Lawrence, smiling at Col. "Years ago, I would never have conceived of this. Seems you really are an educated lad."
Col straightened in surprise, then smiled sheepishly.
In contrast, Holo looked entirely uninterested. It was difficult to know whether or not she really hadn't also figured the question out—her kind heart might have led her to keep quiet.
"But if this three-chest discrepancy really does point to something out of the ordinary, that would be interesting," said Lawrence pointedly to Holo, who shrugged as if to say, "I've had it with getting into trouble."
If she was being like this now and if Lawrence was to decide he wanted to chase down Eve, she might well come up with a reason not to.
"Er, uhm—," Col interrupted their wordless exchange.
"Mm?"
"What could be 'out of the ordinary?' Just for example, I mean." Col's bashful smile vanished, replaced with a serious expression.
Lawrence was slightly surprised, and Holo glanced at Col, then met Lawrence's gaze.
"Just for example, eh? Hmm. As proof of illicit coin minting, say."
Col's breath caught in his throat. Illicit minting was a serious crime, indeed.
Lawrence smiled nervously. "That's an example, though—just an example!"
Disappointed, Col slumped.
| Perhaps he needed money.
Perhaps he had borrowed the money he'd used to buy these papers.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he looked at Holo, who only smiled and shrugged.
Holo might have been able to read people's intentions, but their memories were a mystery even to her.
"It's just that thinking of all the possibilities is a good way to kill time aboard ship, that's all," added Lawrence.
Col nodded regretfully.
The boy had a daring imagination—he'd made a desperate bid in calling Lawrence master just when his counterfeit taxation privilege letter was getting him in trouble on the pier. Yet he had turned out to be a well-behaved boy, save for his strange fixation on money.
And he was a student.
On the way to the Church city of Ruvinheigen, Lawrence had met a shepherdess whose situation piqued his interest; this boy was roughly as interesting.
How had he come to be wandering this area, and what had made him buy this stack of counterfeit documents and ledgers?
Lawrence wanted to get every bit of information out of the boy, but if he pressed too hard, Col's mouth would snap shut like a startled clam. It was an old story—a student descending from drinking and gambling into swindling and finally theft. None were so persecuted by the world as a student who drifted among such pursuits.
Col's fear was surely shaped by his knowing all too well just how cold the world's notice could be.
So Lawrence put on his best merchant's smile and asked, "There are all sorts of students, so what sort are you?"
Half the itinerant "scholars" in the world were only self-proclaimed and hadn't done so much as a speck of real study in their lives. But Col could read, so he seemed not to be one of those.
As Lawrence tap-tapped the papers to put their edges in order, Col's answer was hesitant. "Er...Ch-church...law."
"Oh?" Now this was a surprise.
Studying Church law—did he intend to become a high-ranking priest?
Those who became students or scholars did so either because their family was wealthy and they could afford to or because they wanted a way to become a member of society without inheriting the family business—or because they simply didn't want to work and instead called themselves scholars.
In any case, students who studied out of a genuine desire to learn were rare.
And among them, those who studied Church law were a special sort indeed.
They didn't want to become monks, but they wished to rise high in the Church ranks.
The field attracted a crafty lot, indeed.
"Were you expelled from school?"
Waiting for Col to answer might well have taken until sundown, so in response to Lawrence's question, Col gave a small nod.
It was the way of such things for students to pool their money and hire a tutor, renting out an inn room or a mansion's guest-house for taking lectures in—so of course, those who couldn't continue to pay were expelled.
There were stories of saints who would send birds to eavesdrop upon such lessons, then return to recite them—but even miracles had limits.
And Lawrence had heard that most tutors wouldn't so much as answer a question without a gift.
It was a difficult path unless one came from a wealthy family or was a genius at making money.
"So, for a school in this area...Erisol, perhaps?"
"N - no...it was Aquent."
"Aquent?" Lawrence asked, looking up in surprise. Col cowered as though he had been scolded.
Holo's accusing eyes were almost painful.
But the town of Aquent was so far away that Lawrence couldn't help but raise his voice in surprise.
As he watched Holo pat Col's back encouragingly, Lawrence stroked his beard. "Sorry. It just seemed a bit far, that's all. It'd take quite some time to make the trip on foot."
"...Yes."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Perhaps he needed money.
Perhaps he had borrowed the money he'd used to buy these papers.
The thought occurred to Lawrence as he looked at Holo, who only smiled and shrugged.
Holo might have been able to read people's intentions, but their memories were a mystery even to her.
"It's just that thinking of all the possibilities is a good way to kill time aboard ship, that's all," added Lawrence.
Col nodded regretfully.
The boy had a daring imagination—he'd made a desperate bid in calling Lawrence master just when his counterfeit taxation privilege letter was getting him in trouble on the pier. Yet he had turned out to be a well-behaved boy, save for his strange fixation on money.
And he was a student.
On the way to the Church city of Ruvinheigen, Lawrence had met a shepherdess whose situation piqued his interest; this boy was roughly as interesting.
How had he come to be wandering this area, and what had made him buy this stack of counterfeit documents and ledgers?
Lawrence wanted to get every bit of information out of the boy, but if he pressed too hard, Col's mouth would snap shut like a startled clam. It was an old story—a student descending from drinking and gambling into swindling and finally theft. None were so persecuted by the world as a student who drifted among such pursuits.
Col's fear was surely shaped by his knowing all too well just how cold the world's notice could be.
So Lawrence put on his best merchant's smile and asked, "There are all sorts of students, so what sort are you?"
Half the itinerant "scholars" in the world were only self-proclaimed and hadn't done so much as a speck of real study in their lives. But Col could read, so he seemed not to be one of those.
As Lawrence tap-tapped the papers to put their edges in order, Col's answer was hesitant. "Er...Ch-church...law."
"Oh?" Now this was a surprise.
Studying Church law—did he intend to become a high-ranking priest?
Those who became students or scholars did so either because their family was wealthy and they could afford to or because they wanted a way to become a member of society without inheriting the family business—or because they simply didn't want to work and instead called themselves scholars.
In any case, students who studied out of a genuine desire to learn were rare.
And among them, those who studied Church law were a special sort indeed.
They didn't want to become monks, but they wished to rise high in the Church ranks.
The field attracted a crafty lot, indeed.
"Were you expelled from school?"
Waiting for Col to answer might well have taken until sundown, so in response to Lawrence's question, Col gave a small nod.
It was the way of such things for students to pool their money and hire a tutor, renting out an inn room or a mansion's guest-house for taking lectures in—so of course, those who couldn't continue to pay were expelled.
There were stories of saints who would send birds to eavesdrop upon such lessons, then return to recite them—but even miracles had limits.
And Lawrence had heard that most tutors wouldn't so much as answer a question without a gift.
It was a difficult path unless one came from a wealthy family or was a genius at making money.
"So, for a school in this area...Erisol, perhaps?"
"N - no...it was Aquent."
"Aquent?" Lawrence asked, looking up in surprise. Col cowered as though he had been scolded.
Holo's accusing eyes were almost painful.
But the town of Aquent was so far away that Lawrence couldn't help but raise his voice in surprise.
As he watched Holo pat Col's back encouragingly, Lawrence stroked his beard. "Sorry. It just seemed a bit far, that's all. It'd take quite some time to make the trip on foot."
"...Yes."
| "It sounds an amazing place! 'Twould be nice to have apples year-round. A paradise indeed!" said Holo, practically licking her chops. Col looked a bit surprised, but soon a faint smile appeared on his face.
Even he could tell when Holo was exaggerating.
"Um, that's actually...not true," he said.
"Hmm? R-really...?" replied Holo, sounding very disappointed, indeed, as she turned to Col.
Perhaps feeling obligated due to the kindness he'd been shown, Col hastily tried to smooth things over. "Er, um, well, but—there are lots of different fruits lined up year-round at the shops. Even lots of rare ones."
"Oh?"
"Like a hairy fruit about this big, that doesn't break even when struck with a hammer—but inside it is a sweet milk."
He was speaking of the coconut.
When the season was right, when the great trading vessels stopped in warm southern ports, sometimes you saw such things—but Holo had certainly never seen one.
And the imagination could run all the wilder if it had no reality with which to anchor itself.
Holo looked at Lawrence.
Her eyes shone with a light that was entirely sincere.
"If we happen to see any, I'll buy you some."
It wasn't honeyed peach preserves, but they would hardly come across coconuts, so Lawrence wasn't worried about keeping this promise.
Of course, if they did find some, then he would be in trouble.
"But really, Aquent isn't a paradise. There's lots of fighting there," interjected Col.
"No doubt the inns are full of thieves. If you sleep alone, your clothes will be gone come morning, and if you go to a pub, it will be filled with brawling. When tempers rise, so too do flames, I'll bet," said Lawrence.
With a mountain of layabout students ranging from Col's age to Lawrence's, it would be like throwing pirates and brigands together in the same room.
Lawrence was being a bit overdramatic, but Col's regretful smile did not deny any of what he said.
A place full of schools would be lively indeed, for good or ill.
"Um, but I did meet some wonderful teachers there, and I learned a lot."
"Indeed, to be able to read so well at your age is impressive."
Col's bashful smile was incredibly charming.
Holo grinned as well.
"So, how did you wind up all the way out here?" Lawrence asked, and Col—still smiling—looked down.
"I tried my hand at the book business..."
"The book business?"
"Yes. My teacher's assistant told me that my teacher was going to write new annotations to a certain book and so I should buy copies of that book before the price rose..."
"And did you?"
"Yes."
Lawrence skillfully kept his face neutral.
When a famous scholar wrote notes on a given book, packages of the book plus the annotations would sell very well indeed.
It was quite common for a scholar and a bookstore to cooperate—the bookstore would buy up copies of an unpopular book, and then the scholar would write annotations for that book.
Scarcity led to escalating prices, which in turn brought greater attention.
Thus it was quite plausible that in towns with schools or universities nearby, talk of such and such a scholar planning to write annotations for such and such a book would be common.
A merchant might easily buy sheepskins or wheat flour a year in advance of selling it, but the publishing business was less reliable than tomorrow's weather, and Lawrence never involved himself in it.
But Col, who had apparently never cast an eye to the avarice and clamor all around him, instead devoting himself to study, hadn't the slightest inkling of the pitfalls of that business.
What Col had invested in wasn't a business at all.
It was a magnificent fraud.
"I knew I didn't have enough money to see my studies through to the end, so I thought I'd try to turn a profit. And the book's price was going up nearly every day, so I knew if I wanted to make any money, I'd have to buy soon. But I didn't have enough, so I borrowed the money from a merchant friend of the assistant."
It was a textbook trap.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "It sounds an amazing place! 'Twould be nice to have apples year-round. A paradise indeed!" said Holo, practically licking her chops. Col looked a bit surprised, but soon a faint smile appeared on his face.
Even he could tell when Holo was exaggerating.
"Um, that's actually...not true," he said.
"Hmm? R-really...?" replied Holo, sounding very disappointed, indeed, as she turned to Col.
Perhaps feeling obligated due to the kindness he'd been shown, Col hastily tried to smooth things over. "Er, um, well, but—there are lots of different fruits lined up year-round at the shops. Even lots of rare ones."
"Oh?"
"Like a hairy fruit about this big, that doesn't break even when struck with a hammer—but inside it is a sweet milk."
He was speaking of the coconut.
When the season was right, when the great trading vessels stopped in warm southern ports, sometimes you saw such things—but Holo had certainly never seen one.
And the imagination could run all the wilder if it had no reality with which to anchor itself.
Holo looked at Lawrence.
Her eyes shone with a light that was entirely sincere.
"If we happen to see any, I'll buy you some."
It wasn't honeyed peach preserves, but they would hardly come across coconuts, so Lawrence wasn't worried about keeping this promise.
Of course, if they did find some, then he would be in trouble.
"But really, Aquent isn't a paradise. There's lots of fighting there," interjected Col.
"No doubt the inns are full of thieves. If you sleep alone, your clothes will be gone come morning, and if you go to a pub, it will be filled with brawling. When tempers rise, so too do flames, I'll bet," said Lawrence.
With a mountain of layabout students ranging from Col's age to Lawrence's, it would be like throwing pirates and brigands together in the same room.
Lawrence was being a bit overdramatic, but Col's regretful smile did not deny any of what he said.
A place full of schools would be lively indeed, for good or ill.
"Um, but I did meet some wonderful teachers there, and I learned a lot."
"Indeed, to be able to read so well at your age is impressive."
Col's bashful smile was incredibly charming.
Holo grinned as well.
"So, how did you wind up all the way out here?" Lawrence asked, and Col—still smiling—looked down.
"I tried my hand at the book business..."
"The book business?"
"Yes. My teacher's assistant told me that my teacher was going to write new annotations to a certain book and so I should buy copies of that book before the price rose..."
"And did you?"
"Yes."
Lawrence skillfully kept his face neutral.
When a famous scholar wrote notes on a given book, packages of the book plus the annotations would sell very well indeed.
It was quite common for a scholar and a bookstore to cooperate—the bookstore would buy up copies of an unpopular book, and then the scholar would write annotations for that book.
Scarcity led to escalating prices, which in turn brought greater attention.
Thus it was quite plausible that in towns with schools or universities nearby, talk of such and such a scholar planning to write annotations for such and such a book would be common.
A merchant might easily buy sheepskins or wheat flour a year in advance of selling it, but the publishing business was less reliable than tomorrow's weather, and Lawrence never involved himself in it.
But Col, who had apparently never cast an eye to the avarice and clamor all around him, instead devoting himself to study, hadn't the slightest inkling of the pitfalls of that business.
What Col had invested in wasn't a business at all.
It was a magnificent fraud.
"I knew I didn't have enough money to see my studies through to the end, so I thought I'd try to turn a profit. And the book's price was going up nearly every day, so I knew if I wanted to make any money, I'd have to buy soon. But I didn't have enough, so I borrowed the money from a merchant friend of the assistant."
It was a textbook trap.
| And as the price began to rise, more and more people would come to believe that the rumors of new annotations were true, which would drive the price up still higher.
After that, it was a great gamble to see who would pull the unlucky number.
If there was someone more foolish, one could sell to them and turn a profit.
But not infrequently, the original buyer was the biggest fool.
Lawrence expected Holo to be rolling her eyes at the tale, but when he glanced at her, she was regarding Col with an expression of deep sympathy—an expression he'd never seen before.
It was not really very funny.
"But for some reason, the teacher didn't write the annotations, and...the book turned really cheap," Col finished with an embarrassed smile, and with the story turning out exactly as Lawrence guessed, he understood.
Col had stumbled into a trap and even borrowed money to buy books.
Obviously he could no longer pay his tuition, to say nothing of eating or repaying the debt—so he had beat a hasty retreat.
He might have wound up in a northern town like this because the connections between students were stronger than any clumsy merchant's. There were so many shiftless scholars in this area that it was easy to keep track of who was in which town.
Most of the schools and scholars were in the south, but in a big enough city, there were people who would try to gain learning for free from the street-corner preachers. When Lawrence and Holo had been in Ruvinheigen, groups of young men looking roughly like Col would gather to listen.
But once Lawrence and Holo arrived in this region, such groups disappeared.
It was cold, after all, and passing the winter was difficult.
"So then I, er, I started traveling about, looking for charity, and I wound up around here. I heard in the winter a lot of people come through here, so there would be a lot of work."
"Ah, the winter campaigns, eh?"
"Yes."
"I see."
But as Col fled from the debt collectors and actually headed north, the winter campaigns had been canceled and there was no work at all. To survive through the winter at this rate would take what little money he had on hand.
That was when the mysterious swindler had appeared.
Though Col had tried to study Church law, it seemed God's treatment of him had only ever been cold.
Or perhaps this was a test from God.
"And so after all these twists and turns, you came to our boat," said Holo.
"Y-yes, it seems so."
"'Tis quite an amazing encounter. Wouldn't you say?" Turning to Lawrence, Holo smiled.
Col's grime-smeared cheeks reddened.
"Though it can't be said to have been a fortunate trip, it's come together in the end. The world is indeed full of malice, but there are some pitfalls one can avoid so long as one knows of them—ignorance is a sin, after all. But you needn't worry anymore," said Holo proudly. Had her hood been pulled back, her ears would surely have been twitching.
Had the maternal-seeming calm she had possessed a moment ago gone elsewhere?
No, wait, thought Lawrence.
He realized that Holo was like this because despite having said such brave things as she extended a helping hand to Col, she did not intend to shoulder that responsibility herself.
"Ignorance is...a sin?"
"Quite. But you needn't worry. After all, my companion's weathered all manner of adversity to become a full-fledged marshman...mmph...!"
As he glared at Holo through narrowed eyes, Lawrence put his hand over Holo's big mouth.
After she stopped mumbling, he could tell she was trying to bite him, so he pulled his hand away.
"Perhaps you'd like to teach him with all the knowledge and experience you've acquired?" said Lawrence.
"Hmm? You surely do say the strangest things, sir. Despite my being but a girl of tender years, are you saying that your knowledge and experience would be inferior to my own?"
"Urgh—"
Owing to the necessity of hiding her true nature, Lawrence could say nothing at all to refute Holo, but Holo could speak as she wished.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | And as the price began to rise, more and more people would come to believe that the rumors of new annotations were true, which would drive the price up still higher.
After that, it was a great gamble to see who would pull the unlucky number.
If there was someone more foolish, one could sell to them and turn a profit.
But not infrequently, the original buyer was the biggest fool.
Lawrence expected Holo to be rolling her eyes at the tale, but when he glanced at her, she was regarding Col with an expression of deep sympathy—an expression he'd never seen before.
It was not really very funny.
"But for some reason, the teacher didn't write the annotations, and...the book turned really cheap," Col finished with an embarrassed smile, and with the story turning out exactly as Lawrence guessed, he understood.
Col had stumbled into a trap and even borrowed money to buy books.
Obviously he could no longer pay his tuition, to say nothing of eating or repaying the debt—so he had beat a hasty retreat.
He might have wound up in a northern town like this because the connections between students were stronger than any clumsy merchant's. There were so many shiftless scholars in this area that it was easy to keep track of who was in which town.
Most of the schools and scholars were in the south, but in a big enough city, there were people who would try to gain learning for free from the street-corner preachers. When Lawrence and Holo had been in Ruvinheigen, groups of young men looking roughly like Col would gather to listen.
But once Lawrence and Holo arrived in this region, such groups disappeared.
It was cold, after all, and passing the winter was difficult.
"So then I, er, I started traveling about, looking for charity, and I wound up around here. I heard in the winter a lot of people come through here, so there would be a lot of work."
"Ah, the winter campaigns, eh?"
"Yes."
"I see."
But as Col fled from the debt collectors and actually headed north, the winter campaigns had been canceled and there was no work at all. To survive through the winter at this rate would take what little money he had on hand.
That was when the mysterious swindler had appeared.
Though Col had tried to study Church law, it seemed God's treatment of him had only ever been cold.
Or perhaps this was a test from God.
"And so after all these twists and turns, you came to our boat," said Holo.
"Y-yes, it seems so."
"'Tis quite an amazing encounter. Wouldn't you say?" Turning to Lawrence, Holo smiled.
Col's grime-smeared cheeks reddened.
"Though it can't be said to have been a fortunate trip, it's come together in the end. The world is indeed full of malice, but there are some pitfalls one can avoid so long as one knows of them—ignorance is a sin, after all. But you needn't worry anymore," said Holo proudly. Had her hood been pulled back, her ears would surely have been twitching.
Had the maternal-seeming calm she had possessed a moment ago gone elsewhere?
No, wait, thought Lawrence.
He realized that Holo was like this because despite having said such brave things as she extended a helping hand to Col, she did not intend to shoulder that responsibility herself.
"Ignorance is...a sin?"
"Quite. But you needn't worry. After all, my companion's weathered all manner of adversity to become a full-fledged marshman...mmph...!"
As he glared at Holo through narrowed eyes, Lawrence put his hand over Holo's big mouth.
After she stopped mumbling, he could tell she was trying to bite him, so he pulled his hand away.
"Perhaps you'd like to teach him with all the knowledge and experience you've acquired?" said Lawrence.
"Hmm? You surely do say the strangest things, sir. Despite my being but a girl of tender years, are you saying that your knowledge and experience would be inferior to my own?"
"Urgh—"
Owing to the necessity of hiding her true nature, Lawrence could say nothing at all to refute Holo, but Holo could speak as she wished.
| Holo's red-tinged eyes seemed to be smiling, but she made no move to back down.
While she had blithely extended the boy her sympathy, it was Lawrence who would be in a bad position if he was forced to play mentor—as though he knew what troubles could be avoided if one was given enough knowledge from another. What Col truly needed to learn was not where the pitfalls were, but rather how to search for them in the first place.
It was not something easily taught in a day.
Holo know that all too well.
And yet she was hounding Lawrence to do it anyway.
"Why was it that you took such good care of me, eh?" Holo grabbed his earlobe and whispered the words into his ear. "Was it because I was so lovely? Are you such a shallow male?"
"That—"
That hadn't been the only reason, but it had certainly been part of it.
If he refused to lend wisdom and aid to Col now, he would have no grounds on which to refute the accusation.
Holo's gaze pierced him.
"Fine—fine! Now get off," said Lawrence. It would be no joke at all if she stretched his earlobe out longer on that side.
Holo finally released him. "Quite. That's my companion all right," she said with a pleased smile, flicking his ear.
Lawrence wanted to get her back, but there was no telling how much rage he would incur if he was to do so. "So does the boy in question actually want to learn?"
He turned his gaze to the dumbfounded Col.
The puppy-like Col could surely tell who was master of whom, just as a real dog could.
Though he gaped for a moment at the sudden question put to him, he was in the end a smart lad.
Col straightened his posture and took a breath. "I-I would be honored to accept your instruction."
Holo nodded, satisfied.
Of course, she wasn't the one doing the teaching.
Lawrence scratched his head and sighed.
While he did enjoy teaching, he wasn't comfortable with all its attendant formalities.
But he couldn't let that stop him.
After all, it hadn't only been Holo's fetching form that had led him to pick her up and bring her along with him.
"I guess it can't be helped, then. Now you're really on board with us."
Just as Lawrence said so, the boat rocked lightly.
Col reddened, and Holo gave an exaggerated sigh.
Just as Lawrence was regretting having said such, Holo spoke.
"You needn't worry. That is what I love about you."
***
In instructing the apparently easily deceived Col, Lawrence knew that if he tried to show examples of every possible swindle or scam, there would be no end to it.
What he needed to teach was a frame of mind that would help Col avoid being tricked.
After that, once Col knew one or two ways of making money, he would probably be able to save some up so long as he didn't succumb to greed.
Of course, overcoming greed was one of the most difficult things for humans to do.
"When someone tells you of a fine opportunity, you need to think about how they will profit from it. Or don't just consider the circumstances that will bring you gain—consider how you stand to lose, as well. Most scams can be avoided by simply doing that much."
"But don't things sometimes go well and sometimes not?"
"Of course. But when you're being swindled, the profit is generally too good. When the balance between the profit and loss is strange, it's better to get out. So if the gain is great or the loss is too large, don't do it."
"Even if the gain...is great?" Just as would be expected from someone who wanted to learn badly enough to pay for it, Col was dedicated and clever.
Though Lawrence had been reluctant to take him on, the boy was quick enough on the uptake that teaching him was enjoyable.
"You don't seem like you quite believe it," said Lawrence.
"Er, well...not really."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo's red-tinged eyes seemed to be smiling, but she made no move to back down.
While she had blithely extended the boy her sympathy, it was Lawrence who would be in a bad position if he was forced to play mentor—as though he knew what troubles could be avoided if one was given enough knowledge from another. What Col truly needed to learn was not where the pitfalls were, but rather how to search for them in the first place.
It was not something easily taught in a day.
Holo know that all too well.
And yet she was hounding Lawrence to do it anyway.
"Why was it that you took such good care of me, eh?" Holo grabbed his earlobe and whispered the words into his ear. "Was it because I was so lovely? Are you such a shallow male?"
"That—"
That hadn't been the only reason, but it had certainly been part of it.
If he refused to lend wisdom and aid to Col now, he would have no grounds on which to refute the accusation.
Holo's gaze pierced him.
"Fine—fine! Now get off," said Lawrence. It would be no joke at all if she stretched his earlobe out longer on that side.
Holo finally released him. "Quite. That's my companion all right," she said with a pleased smile, flicking his ear.
Lawrence wanted to get her back, but there was no telling how much rage he would incur if he was to do so. "So does the boy in question actually want to learn?"
He turned his gaze to the dumbfounded Col.
The puppy-like Col could surely tell who was master of whom, just as a real dog could.
Though he gaped for a moment at the sudden question put to him, he was in the end a smart lad.
Col straightened his posture and took a breath. "I-I would be honored to accept your instruction."
Holo nodded, satisfied.
Of course, she wasn't the one doing the teaching.
Lawrence scratched his head and sighed.
While he did enjoy teaching, he wasn't comfortable with all its attendant formalities.
But he couldn't let that stop him.
After all, it hadn't only been Holo's fetching form that had led him to pick her up and bring her along with him.
"I guess it can't be helped, then. Now you're really on board with us."
Just as Lawrence said so, the boat rocked lightly.
Col reddened, and Holo gave an exaggerated sigh.
Just as Lawrence was regretting having said such, Holo spoke.
"You needn't worry. That is what I love about you."
***
In instructing the apparently easily deceived Col, Lawrence knew that if he tried to show examples of every possible swindle or scam, there would be no end to it.
What he needed to teach was a frame of mind that would help Col avoid being tricked.
After that, once Col knew one or two ways of making money, he would probably be able to save some up so long as he didn't succumb to greed.
Of course, overcoming greed was one of the most difficult things for humans to do.
"When someone tells you of a fine opportunity, you need to think about how they will profit from it. Or don't just consider the circumstances that will bring you gain—consider how you stand to lose, as well. Most scams can be avoided by simply doing that much."
"But don't things sometimes go well and sometimes not?"
"Of course. But when you're being swindled, the profit is generally too good. When the balance between the profit and loss is strange, it's better to get out. So if the gain is great or the loss is too large, don't do it."
"Even if the gain...is great?" Just as would be expected from someone who wanted to learn badly enough to pay for it, Col was dedicated and clever.
Though Lawrence had been reluctant to take him on, the boy was quick enough on the uptake that teaching him was enjoyable.
"You don't seem like you quite believe it," said Lawrence.
"Er, well...not really."
| As he repeated to another person the words his own master had spoken to him, Lawrence felt their weight.
If only he had been able to put them into practice a bit more faithfully, his own travels with Holo might have gone somewhat more smoothly.
"So keeping all that in mind, if we return to the documents you were tricked into buying..."
Holo lazily watched their exchange.
At first it seemed as though she was about to make fun of Lawrence's slightly pompous lecturing, but eventually she seemed to simply be enjoying the conversation.
The boat headed easily downriver, and though it was chilly, there was no wind.
The mood was strangely stable, unlike when Lawrence had traveled alone, but also unlike his travels with just Holo. Whatever it was fit the situation perfectly; it was a queer and ancient sensation.
As Lawrence taught, he wondered what the feeling was.
Holo wasn't beside him sniggering maliciously, but when he turned around, there she was behind him, a soft smile on her face.
They were on a river in the middle of winter, so what was this warmth?
Lawrence didn't know. He didn't know, but it made his body feel light.
Conversation with Col became smooth, and as Col began to understand Lawrence's thinking, Lawrence started to understand Col's questions.
Good fortune might not often come his way, but fortunate encounters seemed to be quite common.
It was that kind of moment.
"Ha-ha. Am I interrupting anything?" came Ragusa's voice suddenly, and Lawrence felt as though he'd been woken from a dream.
Col seemed similarly jolted, and as he regained his composure, his expression made him look as though he wasn't quite sure of what he was doing.
"Er, not at all...Is something the matter?"
"Only that the next checkpoint will be the last for the day. I thought you might have something you need to buy, that's all."
"Ah, I see." Lawrence exchanged a look with Holo. She checked the contents of the bag that held their food provisions—even sharing bread with Col, they would have plenty.
"'Twill last," she said.
"Apparently it will last," said Lawrence to Ragusa.
"Aye, and 'tis well if so. Still—" Ragusa stretched, then leaned on the pile of cargo, a broad smile on his face. "Seems a lie has become truth. He's playing the apprentice quite well!"
Ragusa was obviously referring to Col, who looked down in embarrassment.
Unlike a certain someone whose chest puffed out at the slightest praise.
"I've hired boys many times before, but they rarely stay even a year. And when it comes to working without being yelled at or whipped, why—this lad's a miracle!" Ragusa smiled.
"Doubtless," Lawrence agreed.
Wandering scholars were despised—they were shiftless, yes, but they also did no work and accomplished nothing to gain any sort of trust.
Though he had been cornered into it, Col worked hard to earn his way and took Lawrence's teachings to heart—more than enough to earn trust.
Blinking his eyes rapidly at the unexpected praise, Col appeared not to understand that.
Holo smiled, happiest of all.
"So I've some odd jobs to take care of at the next checkpoint."
"Ah, yes—please let me help."
"Ha-ha-ha! Careful, you'll be scolded by your teacher!"
"Eh?" said Col, confused, at which Lawrence smiled helplessly and spoke.
"He doesn't want to be either a merchant or a boatman, this lad. Isn't that right?"
Col looked up with his pale blue eyes, returning Lawrence's gaze, then Ragusa's; then he stopped.
It was clear he was thinking with all his might.
"...Yes. Er, I-I want to study Church law."
"Well now, isn't that a shame."
"So you see how it is," said Lawrence.
"I reckon I'll give up, then, if nobody else is going to get him all to themselves. Suppose it's always the gods that profit in the end, eh?" Ragusa sighed good-naturedly, then moved astern and picked up his pole.
Reliable people were always in demand, no matter the industry.
"Um...?"
Lawrence chuckled. "He's just saying that if you keep studying like this, you'll wind up a scholar eventually."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | As he repeated to another person the words his own master had spoken to him, Lawrence felt their weight.
If only he had been able to put them into practice a bit more faithfully, his own travels with Holo might have gone somewhat more smoothly.
"So keeping all that in mind, if we return to the documents you were tricked into buying..."
Holo lazily watched their exchange.
At first it seemed as though she was about to make fun of Lawrence's slightly pompous lecturing, but eventually she seemed to simply be enjoying the conversation.
The boat headed easily downriver, and though it was chilly, there was no wind.
The mood was strangely stable, unlike when Lawrence had traveled alone, but also unlike his travels with just Holo. Whatever it was fit the situation perfectly; it was a queer and ancient sensation.
As Lawrence taught, he wondered what the feeling was.
Holo wasn't beside him sniggering maliciously, but when he turned around, there she was behind him, a soft smile on her face.
They were on a river in the middle of winter, so what was this warmth?
Lawrence didn't know. He didn't know, but it made his body feel light.
Conversation with Col became smooth, and as Col began to understand Lawrence's thinking, Lawrence started to understand Col's questions.
Good fortune might not often come his way, but fortunate encounters seemed to be quite common.
It was that kind of moment.
"Ha-ha. Am I interrupting anything?" came Ragusa's voice suddenly, and Lawrence felt as though he'd been woken from a dream.
Col seemed similarly jolted, and as he regained his composure, his expression made him look as though he wasn't quite sure of what he was doing.
"Er, not at all...Is something the matter?"
"Only that the next checkpoint will be the last for the day. I thought you might have something you need to buy, that's all."
"Ah, I see." Lawrence exchanged a look with Holo. She checked the contents of the bag that held their food provisions—even sharing bread with Col, they would have plenty.
"'Twill last," she said.
"Apparently it will last," said Lawrence to Ragusa.
"Aye, and 'tis well if so. Still—" Ragusa stretched, then leaned on the pile of cargo, a broad smile on his face. "Seems a lie has become truth. He's playing the apprentice quite well!"
Ragusa was obviously referring to Col, who looked down in embarrassment.
Unlike a certain someone whose chest puffed out at the slightest praise.
"I've hired boys many times before, but they rarely stay even a year. And when it comes to working without being yelled at or whipped, why—this lad's a miracle!" Ragusa smiled.
"Doubtless," Lawrence agreed.
Wandering scholars were despised—they were shiftless, yes, but they also did no work and accomplished nothing to gain any sort of trust.
Though he had been cornered into it, Col worked hard to earn his way and took Lawrence's teachings to heart—more than enough to earn trust.
Blinking his eyes rapidly at the unexpected praise, Col appeared not to understand that.
Holo smiled, happiest of all.
"So I've some odd jobs to take care of at the next checkpoint."
"Ah, yes—please let me help."
"Ha-ha-ha! Careful, you'll be scolded by your teacher!"
"Eh?" said Col, confused, at which Lawrence smiled helplessly and spoke.
"He doesn't want to be either a merchant or a boatman, this lad. Isn't that right?"
Col looked up with his pale blue eyes, returning Lawrence's gaze, then Ragusa's; then he stopped.
It was clear he was thinking with all his might.
"...Yes. Er, I-I want to study Church law."
"Well now, isn't that a shame."
"So you see how it is," said Lawrence.
"I reckon I'll give up, then, if nobody else is going to get him all to themselves. Suppose it's always the gods that profit in the end, eh?" Ragusa sighed good-naturedly, then moved astern and picked up his pole.
Reliable people were always in demand, no matter the industry.
"Um...?"
Lawrence chuckled. "He's just saying that if you keep studying like this, you'll wind up a scholar eventually."
| Lawrence was left to ruminate over Ragusa's words.
It did seem to be the gods who profited in the end.
"You seem regretful," said Holo.
"Huh?" Lawrence said, then nodded. "Oh yes, I suppose I did feel a bit disappointed."
"Still, you'll have other chances."
Lawrence looked back at Holo, a little surprised at her words. "So you find just helping me become a merchant of note unsatisfying?"
"You're not full-fledged until you have an apprentice."
So it was about the apprentice, then?
It was true that Lawrence had told Holo that he felt as though his adventures might be over once he opened a shop.
Holo had told him to get an apprentice.
"It's a bit early for that, though."
"Is it?"
"It is. Maybe ten years from now. Or fifteen even."
A few years earlier, Lawrence would never have been able to think ten years hence, but he was reaching the age where he would now be looking that far ahead.
In the past, he might well have thought he could be anything, but now those choices were no longer open to him.
"Ten years from now, you say—mm, by then even you may be a bit more manly."
"...What are you talking about?"
"Oh, shall I explain?" Judging by her smile, Holo was hiding something big.
Deciding it was better to let sleeping gods lie, Lawrence gave up his counterattack.
"Heh. Smart of you."
"Your praise flatters me, milady."
Holo smacked Lawrence's shoulder, her cheeks deliberately puffed out.
Lawrence smiled in reply, then reached out for the sheaf of papers he had bought from Col.
Despite the interruption, the issue of the copper coins was enough to arouse his merchant's curiosity.
Though Lawrence wasn't particularly thinking of profit—much less trying to expose the Jean Company's smuggling—the notion that he would be able to solve the riddle simply through careful analysis of this sheaf of paper was exciting.
"You surely are a stingy male."
"What?"
"Look at the way your eyes light up at that paper. Is it so much more fun than keeping my company?"
Lawrence didn't know if he should laugh or not.
He knew for a certainty, though, that if he pointed out that Holo was being jealous of a stack of papers, he'd be hit.
"It's only a difference of three chests. Why is that so interesting?" Holo asked.
"Why...? I suppose because it's fun to think about. But this time if I'm mistaken, we won't get dragged into some kind of uprising. You needn't worry on that count."
Lawrence flipped through the pages as he talked and soon came upon a sheet on which the Jean Company's name was written and then another.
Perhaps this was what he was looking for.
***
He got the feeling Holo had said something and looked up.
Holo had plopped down and was grabbing onto the blanket.
Beneath her robe, her tail swished discontentedly.
Her expression was one of frustration.
"You're very skilled at bargaining sometimes, you know," she said.
Occasionally even Holo was easy to understand.
Was he being presumptuous, Lawrence wondered, in imagining that what Holo was thinking was, It's all well and good for you to attend to Col, but when he's gone, your attention should be only on me?
"Well then, would you like to help?"
"...I suppose I would not mind."
Lawrence was reminded of long ago, when Holo couldn't bring herself to simply ask for an apple.
Her face had been displeased then, even as her ears had flicked up happily.
"This word, here. Jean Company. Find anything that mentions it. You can read the letters, right?"
"Aye. Anything that mentions it, anything at all?"
"Yes."
Col's bundle of papers was actually quite sizable.
Many of them were badly wrinkled, perhaps having been handled roughly or stuffed into a bag in the process of their theft.
And as proof they had passed through many hands, many were badly smudged and worn out with finger marks.
There were probably a hundred sheets in total; Lawrence handed a section to Holo, and they began to search for the Jean Company.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence was left to ruminate over Ragusa's words.
It did seem to be the gods who profited in the end.
"You seem regretful," said Holo.
"Huh?" Lawrence said, then nodded. "Oh yes, I suppose I did feel a bit disappointed."
"Still, you'll have other chances."
Lawrence looked back at Holo, a little surprised at her words. "So you find just helping me become a merchant of note unsatisfying?"
"You're not full-fledged until you have an apprentice."
So it was about the apprentice, then?
It was true that Lawrence had told Holo that he felt as though his adventures might be over once he opened a shop.
Holo had told him to get an apprentice.
"It's a bit early for that, though."
"Is it?"
"It is. Maybe ten years from now. Or fifteen even."
A few years earlier, Lawrence would never have been able to think ten years hence, but he was reaching the age where he would now be looking that far ahead.
In the past, he might well have thought he could be anything, but now those choices were no longer open to him.
"Ten years from now, you say—mm, by then even you may be a bit more manly."
"...What are you talking about?"
"Oh, shall I explain?" Judging by her smile, Holo was hiding something big.
Deciding it was better to let sleeping gods lie, Lawrence gave up his counterattack.
"Heh. Smart of you."
"Your praise flatters me, milady."
Holo smacked Lawrence's shoulder, her cheeks deliberately puffed out.
Lawrence smiled in reply, then reached out for the sheaf of papers he had bought from Col.
Despite the interruption, the issue of the copper coins was enough to arouse his merchant's curiosity.
Though Lawrence wasn't particularly thinking of profit—much less trying to expose the Jean Company's smuggling—the notion that he would be able to solve the riddle simply through careful analysis of this sheaf of paper was exciting.
"You surely are a stingy male."
"What?"
"Look at the way your eyes light up at that paper. Is it so much more fun than keeping my company?"
Lawrence didn't know if he should laugh or not.
He knew for a certainty, though, that if he pointed out that Holo was being jealous of a stack of papers, he'd be hit.
"It's only a difference of three chests. Why is that so interesting?" Holo asked.
"Why...? I suppose because it's fun to think about. But this time if I'm mistaken, we won't get dragged into some kind of uprising. You needn't worry on that count."
Lawrence flipped through the pages as he talked and soon came upon a sheet on which the Jean Company's name was written and then another.
Perhaps this was what he was looking for.
***
He got the feeling Holo had said something and looked up.
Holo had plopped down and was grabbing onto the blanket.
Beneath her robe, her tail swished discontentedly.
Her expression was one of frustration.
"You're very skilled at bargaining sometimes, you know," she said.
Occasionally even Holo was easy to understand.
Was he being presumptuous, Lawrence wondered, in imagining that what Holo was thinking was, It's all well and good for you to attend to Col, but when he's gone, your attention should be only on me?
"Well then, would you like to help?"
"...I suppose I would not mind."
Lawrence was reminded of long ago, when Holo couldn't bring herself to simply ask for an apple.
Her face had been displeased then, even as her ears had flicked up happily.
"This word, here. Jean Company. Find anything that mentions it. You can read the letters, right?"
"Aye. Anything that mentions it, anything at all?"
"Yes."
Col's bundle of papers was actually quite sizable.
Many of them were badly wrinkled, perhaps having been handled roughly or stuffed into a bag in the process of their theft.
And as proof they had passed through many hands, many were badly smudged and worn out with finger marks.
There were probably a hundred sheets in total; Lawrence handed a section to Holo, and they began to search for the Jean Company.
| By contrast, Holo had to scan each page from top to bottom or she risked missing the name—and the writing was often messy.
It was obvious to Lawrence that she frequently gave him nervous glances.
No doubt she found it frustrating being less capable than him at something.
Lawrence pretended not to notice and slowed his pace.
"Still, you—," began Holo.
"Hmm?"
Even having slowed his pace, Lawrence was faster, so it was farfetched to think that Holo suspected him of self-sabotage after only a moment.
In fact, rather than continuing to work as she spoke, Holo set the papers down and stared someplace far in the distance.
"What's wrong?"
Holo shook her head in response to Lawrence's question, looking down at her hands. "...It is nothing."
Yet even Holo, who was a brilliant liar, could not plausibly insist that it was, in fact, nothing.
"You could be a little more subtle, you know."
Lawrence expected that would anger her a bit, but Holo seemed to be a cut above that.
She smiled self-derisively, then took up the papers to put them in order. "I am just thinking about tiresome things, that is all."
Finally turning a page over with a flip, Holo slowly closed her eyes.
"What kinds of things?"
"Truly tiresome things...I was wondering what sort of town awaits us once we have made our way down the river."
At Holo's words, Lawrence looked downriver.
No sign of the sea was yet visible; there were only the flat plains and the gentle flow of the river.
Of course, the port town of Kerube was not yet visible, either.
But Lawrence got the feeling that Holo's statement carried another meaning.
More than anything, when Holo called something "tiresome," it was not just that it was simply boring.
"I've only passed through it by boat two or three times, so I haven't gotten a proper look at it, if I'm honest."
"That is enough. What sort of town is it?"
Since she had asked, there was no reason to hide it. Lawrence called up the memories of his past experiences. "The river meets the sea in a wide delta, and where townspeople do not live, it is lively indeed, with taverns and trading companies' loading docks and money changers' counters. Homes are located on the northern and southern edges of the delta. Collectively it's known as Kerube, but the upper, middle, and lower sections do not get along well at all."
"Oh ho." Holo looked down at the paper in her hands, though it was not clear whether she was reading the letters there or not.
"I visited it from a large trading ship that connects distant nations. It had stopped in Kerube to take on supplies midway through the voyage. Since it was a large ship, it couldn't navigate the shallow delta, so we boarded a smaller boat to make the trip."
Lawrence stopped there to check Holo's reaction.
If this was what she wanted to know, it would have been faster to simply let her see the place when they arrived—but Holo did not seem to think so.
"And then what did you see once you went up the delta?" Holo was looking vaguely at the paper in her hand, but her focus seemed to be on a point far beyond it.
Seeing her like that and explaining the sights of Kerube to her in this way, Lawrence felt like he was leading a blind person.
But when he slowed his speech, Holo looked at him and wordlessly pressed him for more.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | By contrast, Holo had to scan each page from top to bottom or she risked missing the name—and the writing was often messy.
It was obvious to Lawrence that she frequently gave him nervous glances.
No doubt she found it frustrating being less capable than him at something.
Lawrence pretended not to notice and slowed his pace.
"Still, you—," began Holo.
"Hmm?"
Even having slowed his pace, Lawrence was faster, so it was farfetched to think that Holo suspected him of self-sabotage after only a moment.
In fact, rather than continuing to work as she spoke, Holo set the papers down and stared someplace far in the distance.
"What's wrong?"
Holo shook her head in response to Lawrence's question, looking down at her hands. "...It is nothing."
Yet even Holo, who was a brilliant liar, could not plausibly insist that it was, in fact, nothing.
"You could be a little more subtle, you know."
Lawrence expected that would anger her a bit, but Holo seemed to be a cut above that.
She smiled self-derisively, then took up the papers to put them in order. "I am just thinking about tiresome things, that is all."
Finally turning a page over with a flip, Holo slowly closed her eyes.
"What kinds of things?"
"Truly tiresome things...I was wondering what sort of town awaits us once we have made our way down the river."
At Holo's words, Lawrence looked downriver.
No sign of the sea was yet visible; there were only the flat plains and the gentle flow of the river.
Of course, the port town of Kerube was not yet visible, either.
But Lawrence got the feeling that Holo's statement carried another meaning.
More than anything, when Holo called something "tiresome," it was not just that it was simply boring.
"I've only passed through it by boat two or three times, so I haven't gotten a proper look at it, if I'm honest."
"That is enough. What sort of town is it?"
Since she had asked, there was no reason to hide it. Lawrence called up the memories of his past experiences. "The river meets the sea in a wide delta, and where townspeople do not live, it is lively indeed, with taverns and trading companies' loading docks and money changers' counters. Homes are located on the northern and southern edges of the delta. Collectively it's known as Kerube, but the upper, middle, and lower sections do not get along well at all."
"Oh ho." Holo looked down at the paper in her hands, though it was not clear whether she was reading the letters there or not.
"I visited it from a large trading ship that connects distant nations. It had stopped in Kerube to take on supplies midway through the voyage. Since it was a large ship, it couldn't navigate the shallow delta, so we boarded a smaller boat to make the trip."
Lawrence stopped there to check Holo's reaction.
If this was what she wanted to know, it would have been faster to simply let her see the place when they arrived—but Holo did not seem to think so.
"And then what did you see once you went up the delta?" Holo was looking vaguely at the paper in her hand, but her focus seemed to be on a point far beyond it.
Seeing her like that and explaining the sights of Kerube to her in this way, Lawrence felt like he was leading a blind person.
But when he slowed his speech, Holo looked at him and wordlessly pressed him for more.
| "From within the rows of two-story buildings come the constant sounds of laughter and lute music all day long."
Holo nodded, and without raising either her head or her gaze, she asked, "Where was the ship going?"
"The ship?"
"The one you were riding on."
"Ah, that ship was bound far south along the coast, arriving at a port town called Yordos, a place known for its skilled artisans. The ship was carrying mostly amber from the north, and the town was famous for its amber craft. It's even farther south than Pazzio, where you and I wound up running around underground, or even Pasloe, where we met. The sea is very warm there and dark."
Lawrence had been younger and more carefree then; he had owned no wagon and had been rather careless with his life as he flitted from place to place.
It didn't enter the conversation, but there was no comparison between a long sea voyage spent in a dim room below decks and a short riverboat trip.
On the voyage, he had held desperately onto the cow bladder that contained his drinking water, trying not to spill it as the boat rocked so violently that it had been impossible to even sit properly.
And with that much rocking, a poor traveling merchant—who was hardly a sailor—would soon fall prey to seasickness.
When there was nothing left in his stomach, he had vomited blood, and he had been thin and haggard by the time the boat arrived.
It was bad enough that Lawrence could scarcely believe he'd made the journey three times.
"Mm. Though I do not know this 'amber' of which you speak."
"Huh? You don't?" asked Lawrence, and Holo shot him an irritated glance.
He would have guessed that living the life of a forest god, it would be the kind of thing she would know—but then, she hadn't known about pyrite, either.
"It's tree sap that's hardened underground, and it looks just like a jewel. It's rather like...ah, yes. It looks a bit like your eyes actually."
Lawrence pointed at Holo's face, whereupon she seemed to unconsciously try to look at her own eyes. He couldn't help but laugh when she went cross-eyed.
"You did that on purpose," she said—but if that had truly been so, Holo would not have said it.
Since Lawrence could tell that she was irritated at his remark, he answered, "Well, in any case, they're like beautiful jewels."
Despite her irritation, Holo couldn't help but burst into laughter at the obvious words. "Hmph! Not bad, for you. So after you got off that ship, where did you go next?"
"Next? Next was...," began Lawrence, when a question appeared in his mind.
What could she be getting at by asking him this all of a sudden?
"You can tell me that, or you can tell me where that vixen's destination is."
Perhaps Holo thought Lawrence's hesitation was due to the vagueness of his memory.
But no—he soon realized that was not it.
It was because she was afraid of even a moment of silence—even the amount of time it took him to wonder why she was asking all this.
"Eve's destination, eh? If she's going to sell the fur to fur craftsmen, it'll be still farther south than Yordos. Probably a town named Urva."
"How much do you think she'll make?"
"Hmm...Perhaps triple...though that might be tough. If she were to turn that much profit, she'd never speak to a traveling merchant like me again, I'd wager."
At Lawrence's smile, Holo smacked him on the shoulder, her face displeased.
But their eyes did not meet.
It was as though if she looked him in the eye, she was afraid he would see her mind.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "From within the rows of two-story buildings come the constant sounds of laughter and lute music all day long."
Holo nodded, and without raising either her head or her gaze, she asked, "Where was the ship going?"
"The ship?"
"The one you were riding on."
"Ah, that ship was bound far south along the coast, arriving at a port town called Yordos, a place known for its skilled artisans. The ship was carrying mostly amber from the north, and the town was famous for its amber craft. It's even farther south than Pazzio, where you and I wound up running around underground, or even Pasloe, where we met. The sea is very warm there and dark."
Lawrence had been younger and more carefree then; he had owned no wagon and had been rather careless with his life as he flitted from place to place.
It didn't enter the conversation, but there was no comparison between a long sea voyage spent in a dim room below decks and a short riverboat trip.
On the voyage, he had held desperately onto the cow bladder that contained his drinking water, trying not to spill it as the boat rocked so violently that it had been impossible to even sit properly.
And with that much rocking, a poor traveling merchant—who was hardly a sailor—would soon fall prey to seasickness.
When there was nothing left in his stomach, he had vomited blood, and he had been thin and haggard by the time the boat arrived.
It was bad enough that Lawrence could scarcely believe he'd made the journey three times.
"Mm. Though I do not know this 'amber' of which you speak."
"Huh? You don't?" asked Lawrence, and Holo shot him an irritated glance.
He would have guessed that living the life of a forest god, it would be the kind of thing she would know—but then, she hadn't known about pyrite, either.
"It's tree sap that's hardened underground, and it looks just like a jewel. It's rather like...ah, yes. It looks a bit like your eyes actually."
Lawrence pointed at Holo's face, whereupon she seemed to unconsciously try to look at her own eyes. He couldn't help but laugh when she went cross-eyed.
"You did that on purpose," she said—but if that had truly been so, Holo would not have said it.
Since Lawrence could tell that she was irritated at his remark, he answered, "Well, in any case, they're like beautiful jewels."
Despite her irritation, Holo couldn't help but burst into laughter at the obvious words. "Hmph! Not bad, for you. So after you got off that ship, where did you go next?"
"Next? Next was...," began Lawrence, when a question appeared in his mind.
What could she be getting at by asking him this all of a sudden?
"You can tell me that, or you can tell me where that vixen's destination is."
Perhaps Holo thought Lawrence's hesitation was due to the vagueness of his memory.
But no—he soon realized that was not it.
It was because she was afraid of even a moment of silence—even the amount of time it took him to wonder why she was asking all this.
"Eve's destination, eh? If she's going to sell the fur to fur craftsmen, it'll be still farther south than Yordos. Probably a town named Urva."
"How much do you think she'll make?"
"Hmm...Perhaps triple...though that might be tough. If she were to turn that much profit, she'd never speak to a traveling merchant like me again, I'd wager."
At Lawrence's smile, Holo smacked him on the shoulder, her face displeased.
But their eyes did not meet.
It was as though if she looked him in the eye, she was afraid he would see her mind.
| It was the path of gold every merchant had dreamed of at least once.
What made this absurd was the number of merchants who followed that path, only to have it end in martial rule.
Yet the merchants who used force on the way toward martial rule were so many that even an omnipotent god could hardly count them.
Even if Eve gained some inkling of this, there was no telling if things would go well for her.
To gain the huge profits that could be had via long-distance trade, the vessel had to arrive safely in port—and that was no mean feat.
Lawrence could not count on both hands the number of merchants he personally knew who had seen their entire fortunes literally vanish beneath the waves.
"'Tis like a path of gold leading to a nation of gold," said Holo, amused. It was not clear to what extent she realized Lawrence's story was fantastical, but from her tone, it seemed clear she understood it to be a fantasy. "Still, it does not seem that it would be so very frustrating to let the entrance to that path pass you by."
Lawrence naturally nodded at her words.
It wasn't especially frustrating.
After all, the path Lawrence wished to tread was not the path of gold.
But he couldn't help feeling that if Holo was with him, he could walk it.
Surely he could arrive at that mountain of jewels, along the path of avarice that swirled with trickery and wiles, undeceived by devils and unharmed by evil gods, pushing forward at every chance.
It would be an adventure tale worthy of the term and worthy, too, of being passed down through the centuries.
He and Holo would contest a gold transaction with a powerful merchant as their rival and bargain with the royal family of an ancient nation over purebred sheep. They might cross swords with a pirate armada or be betrayed by a trusted underling.
Lawrence wondered how much fun such adventures would be with Holo by his side.
And yet for some reason, he got the feeling that Holo wanted no part of this.
So he asked.
"Do you not wish to walk that path?"
Looking disinterested, Holo did indeed nod. "I will have to pass on your tales. 'Twould be better if such tales were fewer."
Lawrence chuckled soundlessly at her obstinacy, earning him a glare from Holo.
She was surely lying, to claim that she wished for tales to be few. What she wanted to be few were people who would tell those tales. For example, if Lawrence saw someone triumphantly talking about Holo's sleeping form, he would certainly bear said person ill will.
"Rather than talk of the path of gold, I would sooner hear of what's beyond this amber village."
Instead of tales of wild adventure, she wanted tales of a journey like the one they'd had so far.
As to why she wanted to hear something like that, the reason was obvious.
The sensation he had felt while describing the delta of Kerube—when it was put into words, he understood it immediately.
But Lawrence only shut his mouth and smiled faintly, and without saying anything else, he answered Holo's question as it was asked.
At the amber village, he would sell animal bones and teeth acquired in the north and buy up salt and salted herring before heading inland. He would go on foot, by wagon, even occasionally traveling with a caravan. He would walk plains, cross rivers, hike mountains, and wander forests. There would be injuries and sickness. Lawrence would rejoice at meeting a merchant he had heard was dead and laugh at hearing rumors of his own demise.
Holo listened to the story happily, asking her questions quietly, as if she enjoyed hearing about the vast stretches of land she had not yet seen, despite her centuries. As if surprised at the frequency of amusing incidents.
And as if imagining herself along for the journey, as a matter of course, not worthy of any particular mention.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was the path of gold every merchant had dreamed of at least once.
What made this absurd was the number of merchants who followed that path, only to have it end in martial rule.
Yet the merchants who used force on the way toward martial rule were so many that even an omnipotent god could hardly count them.
Even if Eve gained some inkling of this, there was no telling if things would go well for her.
To gain the huge profits that could be had via long-distance trade, the vessel had to arrive safely in port—and that was no mean feat.
Lawrence could not count on both hands the number of merchants he personally knew who had seen their entire fortunes literally vanish beneath the waves.
"'Tis like a path of gold leading to a nation of gold," said Holo, amused. It was not clear to what extent she realized Lawrence's story was fantastical, but from her tone, it seemed clear she understood it to be a fantasy. "Still, it does not seem that it would be so very frustrating to let the entrance to that path pass you by."
Lawrence naturally nodded at her words.
It wasn't especially frustrating.
After all, the path Lawrence wished to tread was not the path of gold.
But he couldn't help feeling that if Holo was with him, he could walk it.
Surely he could arrive at that mountain of jewels, along the path of avarice that swirled with trickery and wiles, undeceived by devils and unharmed by evil gods, pushing forward at every chance.
It would be an adventure tale worthy of the term and worthy, too, of being passed down through the centuries.
He and Holo would contest a gold transaction with a powerful merchant as their rival and bargain with the royal family of an ancient nation over purebred sheep. They might cross swords with a pirate armada or be betrayed by a trusted underling.
Lawrence wondered how much fun such adventures would be with Holo by his side.
And yet for some reason, he got the feeling that Holo wanted no part of this.
So he asked.
"Do you not wish to walk that path?"
Looking disinterested, Holo did indeed nod. "I will have to pass on your tales. 'Twould be better if such tales were fewer."
Lawrence chuckled soundlessly at her obstinacy, earning him a glare from Holo.
She was surely lying, to claim that she wished for tales to be few. What she wanted to be few were people who would tell those tales. For example, if Lawrence saw someone triumphantly talking about Holo's sleeping form, he would certainly bear said person ill will.
"Rather than talk of the path of gold, I would sooner hear of what's beyond this amber village."
Instead of tales of wild adventure, she wanted tales of a journey like the one they'd had so far.
As to why she wanted to hear something like that, the reason was obvious.
The sensation he had felt while describing the delta of Kerube—when it was put into words, he understood it immediately.
But Lawrence only shut his mouth and smiled faintly, and without saying anything else, he answered Holo's question as it was asked.
At the amber village, he would sell animal bones and teeth acquired in the north and buy up salt and salted herring before heading inland. He would go on foot, by wagon, even occasionally traveling with a caravan. He would walk plains, cross rivers, hike mountains, and wander forests. There would be injuries and sickness. Lawrence would rejoice at meeting a merchant he had heard was dead and laugh at hearing rumors of his own demise.
Holo listened to the story happily, asking her questions quietly, as if she enjoyed hearing about the vast stretches of land she had not yet seen, despite her centuries. As if surprised at the frequency of amusing incidents.
And as if imagining herself along for the journey, as a matter of course, not worthy of any particular mention.
| For Holo's part, she had leaned idly against him and held his hand in her own.
The journey that Lawrence described would take two years in reality.
Perhaps the fatigue from the long journey the two had undertaken had finally reared its head.
That long journey that would never be realized.
After exchanging salt for marten fur in the mountain village, if Lawrence was to continue the tale, which village would be next?
The great wheat fields. The port town. If Lawrence was to continue, the circle of the journey would be closed, and it would continue forever.
But Holo did not press him further.
She knew that if she was to speak, to press him on, this strangely dreamlike atmosphere would be destroyed.
Lawrence wondered if Holo was regretting the trip. Or could she be reflecting on how much fun it had been?
For Lawrence it was both. He had regrets because it had been such fun.
Their travel would go no farther south than Kerube. Neither would they head west. What lay beyond that was a vast unknown world. Though it did indeed exist should they choose to set foot there, it was a world they would never enter.
"In the beginning was the word," said God.
And if the world had been created by those words—
Was Holo, who was known to some as a god, borrowing Lawrence's words to create a temporary world of her own?
Lawrence, naturally, did not ask her what she hoped to accomplish by doing so.
Holo had spent hundreds of years in the wheat fields by herself. She was well used to playing in a made-up world.
But looking at the dazed Holo, who sat there motionless, Lawrence couldn't help wondering if she would really be all right on her own after their journey was over.
According to the book in the village of Tereo, Holo's homeland had been destroyed.
It would be fortunate if after so much time, the old inhabitants of the place had returned.
But what if they hadn't?
This worried Lawrence.
When he imagined Holo, listless and alone in the moonlight of the cold, quiet mountains, it didn't seem possible that she could get by on her own.
No doubt she would feel like howling from time to time, but none were there who would answer.
But if he voiced any of these thoughts, Lawrence knew her anger would be like a raging fire, and it was obvious that she would admit none of it. And what she had to recognize above all else was that no matter how hard Lawrence might try, her loneliness would never be eased.
It would be a lie to say Lawrence did not feel powerless.
Yet he had considered all this when he had gone to collect Holo at the Delink Company.
He spoke with forced cheer; it was the least he could do. "So, what say you? Not an especially exciting journey, is it?"
Holo gave Lawrence a listless look and fixed it upon him for a time.
When she finally smiled, it may have been because she had spotted something stuck on Lawrence's face.
She sat up with exaggerated effort and spoke as though it was a great burden. "...Right you are. Still—"
"Still?"
The expression Holo made as she looked doubtfully over her shoulder might well have been a specialty of hers. "As it's such an ordinary journey, we can travel at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, without an excess of suspense."
A malicious smile.
But it wasn't Holo whose smile was malicious.
It was God up in his heaven whose intent was ill.
Before Lawrence could say anything, the expression on Holo's face disappeared, as though she had simply been enjoying a mild diversion. She turned over a page and voiced a slight exclamation. As she proudly took the paper in hand and showed it to Lawrence, there wasn't so much as a hint of the emotion from a moment ago.
A mere human like Lawrence could hardly manage such a feat.
And being a mere human, it took Lawrence a moment to regain his own composure.
Holo smiled indulgently and waited.
This was, in truth, an ordinary journey.
And peaceful, as well; Holo was close enough that he could reach out and touch her any time he wanted.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | For Holo's part, she had leaned idly against him and held his hand in her own.
The journey that Lawrence described would take two years in reality.
Perhaps the fatigue from the long journey the two had undertaken had finally reared its head.
That long journey that would never be realized.
After exchanging salt for marten fur in the mountain village, if Lawrence was to continue the tale, which village would be next?
The great wheat fields. The port town. If Lawrence was to continue, the circle of the journey would be closed, and it would continue forever.
But Holo did not press him further.
She knew that if she was to speak, to press him on, this strangely dreamlike atmosphere would be destroyed.
Lawrence wondered if Holo was regretting the trip. Or could she be reflecting on how much fun it had been?
For Lawrence it was both. He had regrets because it had been such fun.
Their travel would go no farther south than Kerube. Neither would they head west. What lay beyond that was a vast unknown world. Though it did indeed exist should they choose to set foot there, it was a world they would never enter.
"In the beginning was the word," said God.
And if the world had been created by those words—
Was Holo, who was known to some as a god, borrowing Lawrence's words to create a temporary world of her own?
Lawrence, naturally, did not ask her what she hoped to accomplish by doing so.
Holo had spent hundreds of years in the wheat fields by herself. She was well used to playing in a made-up world.
But looking at the dazed Holo, who sat there motionless, Lawrence couldn't help wondering if she would really be all right on her own after their journey was over.
According to the book in the village of Tereo, Holo's homeland had been destroyed.
It would be fortunate if after so much time, the old inhabitants of the place had returned.
But what if they hadn't?
This worried Lawrence.
When he imagined Holo, listless and alone in the moonlight of the cold, quiet mountains, it didn't seem possible that she could get by on her own.
No doubt she would feel like howling from time to time, but none were there who would answer.
But if he voiced any of these thoughts, Lawrence knew her anger would be like a raging fire, and it was obvious that she would admit none of it. And what she had to recognize above all else was that no matter how hard Lawrence might try, her loneliness would never be eased.
It would be a lie to say Lawrence did not feel powerless.
Yet he had considered all this when he had gone to collect Holo at the Delink Company.
He spoke with forced cheer; it was the least he could do. "So, what say you? Not an especially exciting journey, is it?"
Holo gave Lawrence a listless look and fixed it upon him for a time.
When she finally smiled, it may have been because she had spotted something stuck on Lawrence's face.
She sat up with exaggerated effort and spoke as though it was a great burden. "...Right you are. Still—"
"Still?"
The expression Holo made as she looked doubtfully over her shoulder might well have been a specialty of hers. "As it's such an ordinary journey, we can travel at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, without an excess of suspense."
A malicious smile.
But it wasn't Holo whose smile was malicious.
It was God up in his heaven whose intent was ill.
Before Lawrence could say anything, the expression on Holo's face disappeared, as though she had simply been enjoying a mild diversion. She turned over a page and voiced a slight exclamation. As she proudly took the paper in hand and showed it to Lawrence, there wasn't so much as a hint of the emotion from a moment ago.
A mere human like Lawrence could hardly manage such a feat.
And being a mere human, it took Lawrence a moment to regain his own composure.
Holo smiled indulgently and waited.
This was, in truth, an ordinary journey.
And peaceful, as well; Holo was close enough that he could reach out and touch her any time he wanted.
| "Hn." Holo sniffed. Lawrence couldn't help but smile at her proud manner, as though she'd discovered a treasure map.
He just couldn't match her.
"And yes, it looks like they exported sixteen chests. So this...no...is it...?"
As Lawrence compared the paper to other export lists, he was soon submerged in thought.
A fragile bubble of a dream rose within his mind; he wanted to seal it away in the deepest corner.
It was too sweet a dream.
Lawrence was not so naive as to be ignorant of the word corruption.
"Well, hurry and look for more papers," said Holo, suddenly irritated, grabbing Lawrence's ear and hauling him forcibly out of the well of his own thoughts.
Surprised, Lawrence held his ear, and looked at Holo's profile as she dropped her gaze to the paper she held. Suddenly he remembered something—that she had volunteered to help him look for the company's name in the sheaf of papers because she wanted him to pay attention to her.
But thanks to her rigid expression of rejection, he couldn't bring himself to say, "Let's puzzle this out together."
It was strange that what was once such a tender mood could become like this so quickly.
Holo's mood changed more quickly than the mountain weather.
Was he just slow? Lawrence wondered, but then he told himself that this was just the caprice of a maiden's heart.
Though it was entirely unclear whether she was in fact a maiden, he silently added.
"Is this all of them?" Holo asked, having finished looking through the papers. In the end, she had found two of note.
Combined with what Lawrence had found, there were seven sheets in total.
As long as it wasn't an especially sloppy company, similar documents would be left in similar locations. Whoever had stolen these papers from the company would have just grabbed whatever they could grab, without looking carefully at the contents.
Just as Lawrence had guessed, there was an order sheet and a memorandum for the previous year's summer and another order sheet for the winter of the year before that.
And each time, they ordered fifty-seven chests from the copper suppliers and sent sixty chests of copper coin to the kingdom of Winfiel.
Since Winfiel would hardly be importing used, worn-out coins, each chest would have contained newly minted currency.
Those three extra chests were coming from somewhere—but there were no papers that said where.
"It doesn't seem as though there was anything decisive here."
"Not really. But even if the Jean Company's name isn't on them, there may be some related documents in here."
"Oh ho. Well, shall we?"
"Still, this may be proof that they really are illegally minting currency," Lawrence murmured to himself, an impatient Holo by his side.
Minting a large amount would be easily noticed, but if it was just a bit, the company might get away with it.
Alternatively, they might be experimenting with copper as a prelude to illegally producing gold coins.
The possibilities mounted in Lawrence's imagination—he thought of what information he would need to prove each scenario and what information he lacked. It was just as he was wondering if there was a different way to think about it entirely that he realized Holo, still next to him, was obviously bored.
"..." Holo cocked her head to crack her neck audibly, an expression of ill humor on her face. "Are you truly not going to chase after that vixen?"
If so, you'll never hear the end of it, she meant.
"...If you've any thoughts, you should share them," said Lawrence.
Holo raised her eyebrows, then with an exasperated expression rested her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in her hand. She looked like a gambler frustrated at a dice roll gone badly.
Lawrence's roll had not been a good one, it seemed.
"Aye, so long as they have something to do with huge profits for you."
"...And you just said you didn't want that. And also—"
"Hmm?"
"You don't mind using your head, do you? It's a way to kill time," said Lawrence.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Hn." Holo sniffed. Lawrence couldn't help but smile at her proud manner, as though she'd discovered a treasure map.
He just couldn't match her.
"And yes, it looks like they exported sixteen chests. So this...no...is it...?"
As Lawrence compared the paper to other export lists, he was soon submerged in thought.
A fragile bubble of a dream rose within his mind; he wanted to seal it away in the deepest corner.
It was too sweet a dream.
Lawrence was not so naive as to be ignorant of the word corruption.
"Well, hurry and look for more papers," said Holo, suddenly irritated, grabbing Lawrence's ear and hauling him forcibly out of the well of his own thoughts.
Surprised, Lawrence held his ear, and looked at Holo's profile as she dropped her gaze to the paper she held. Suddenly he remembered something—that she had volunteered to help him look for the company's name in the sheaf of papers because she wanted him to pay attention to her.
But thanks to her rigid expression of rejection, he couldn't bring himself to say, "Let's puzzle this out together."
It was strange that what was once such a tender mood could become like this so quickly.
Holo's mood changed more quickly than the mountain weather.
Was he just slow? Lawrence wondered, but then he told himself that this was just the caprice of a maiden's heart.
Though it was entirely unclear whether she was in fact a maiden, he silently added.
"Is this all of them?" Holo asked, having finished looking through the papers. In the end, she had found two of note.
Combined with what Lawrence had found, there were seven sheets in total.
As long as it wasn't an especially sloppy company, similar documents would be left in similar locations. Whoever had stolen these papers from the company would have just grabbed whatever they could grab, without looking carefully at the contents.
Just as Lawrence had guessed, there was an order sheet and a memorandum for the previous year's summer and another order sheet for the winter of the year before that.
And each time, they ordered fifty-seven chests from the copper suppliers and sent sixty chests of copper coin to the kingdom of Winfiel.
Since Winfiel would hardly be importing used, worn-out coins, each chest would have contained newly minted currency.
Those three extra chests were coming from somewhere—but there were no papers that said where.
"It doesn't seem as though there was anything decisive here."
"Not really. But even if the Jean Company's name isn't on them, there may be some related documents in here."
"Oh ho. Well, shall we?"
"Still, this may be proof that they really are illegally minting currency," Lawrence murmured to himself, an impatient Holo by his side.
Minting a large amount would be easily noticed, but if it was just a bit, the company might get away with it.
Alternatively, they might be experimenting with copper as a prelude to illegally producing gold coins.
The possibilities mounted in Lawrence's imagination—he thought of what information he would need to prove each scenario and what information he lacked. It was just as he was wondering if there was a different way to think about it entirely that he realized Holo, still next to him, was obviously bored.
"..." Holo cocked her head to crack her neck audibly, an expression of ill humor on her face. "Are you truly not going to chase after that vixen?"
If so, you'll never hear the end of it, she meant.
"...If you've any thoughts, you should share them," said Lawrence.
Holo raised her eyebrows, then with an exasperated expression rested her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in her hand. She looked like a gambler frustrated at a dice roll gone badly.
Lawrence's roll had not been a good one, it seemed.
"Aye, so long as they have something to do with huge profits for you."
"...And you just said you didn't want that. And also—"
"Hmm?"
"You don't mind using your head, do you? It's a way to kill time," said Lawrence.
| "Wh-what is it?" Lawrence asked in spite of himself.
Her ears and tail flicked around noisily. When she brought her hands down from her hood, her eyes blazed with anger.
As those still, unwavering eyes looked at him, Lawrence couldn't help but verbally retreat. "...Wh-why are you so angry?"
Her normally amber eyes seemed more like red-hot iron. "Angry? Angry, did you say?"
Just when Lawrence realized he had well and truly roused her anger, the vigor drained from her bristling fur as quickly as it had arrived.
It was as though a too-full water skin had popped.
Holo looked at him with ghostlike eyes, now so dispirited that it seemed she had been worn out in but a moment. "You...you would hardly understand why I would say this, anyway."
Holo gave him a sidelong glance and sighed audibly.
She was like a master who'd lost the energy to be angry with a particularly incompetent apprentice.
And yet Lawrence had a thought.
She's saying these things because she's bored and wants me to pay attention to her, he thought.
He said nothing, though—not because he was afraid that saying so would make her still angrier, but rather because Holo had already seen right through him and bared her fangs in warning. "You'd do well to mind your words."
When Lawrence had entered his apprenticeship under a master, the thing he hated more than all else was being asked questions.
If he answered wrong, he was cuffed, and silence earned him a kick.
Evidently Lawrence's thinking was wrong.
Which meant the only alternative was silence.
"You truly do not understand?"
Lawrence sifted through his memories.
He straightened despite himself and averted his gaze.
"'Tis all right if you don't."
At the unexpected words, Lawrence turned back to her. At that point, Holo added with a serious face, "But I won't speak to you until you do."
"Wha—?" Before Lawrence could even begin to ask why she would do something so childish, Holo moved away from him, snatching up the blanket that they shared and wrapping it around herself.
Lawrence was dumbfounded.
He very nearly asked her if she was joking, but stopped himself at the last moment. Holo was as stubborn as a child. If she said she wouldn't speak to him, then she wouldn't speak to him.
However, this was still better than being suddenly ignored. She had gone to the trouble of declaring her intent, a high-level tactic.
Engaging her over her childishly inflammatory words would be unseemly, and ignoring her in retaliation would be even more immature. And having been visibly disturbed by her declaration that she would no longer speak to him, he could hardly regain control.
Looking down at the papers in his hand, Lawrence sighed. He had thought that puzzling over this mystery would be amusing enough, but it seemed not to be to Holo's liking. She'd been happy enough to sift through the papers with him, so what was so upsetting about thinking through the various possibilities?
For Lawrence's part, he imagined that turning the various pointless things over in their minds would be the more fun part. At the very least, Lawrence would learn a thing or two, thanks to Holo's first-rate mind.
Or perhaps she'd simply learned that ill-conceived thinking led to getting involved in dangerous business.
Lawrence didn't understand Holo's mind.
He placed the Jean Company paperwork atop the other papers as a prelude to tidying up.
Holo didn't so much as glance at him. Even for a merchant, skilled as a matter of course in understanding the moods of others, Holo was no ordinary challenge. Terrible punishment awaited any misstep.
As Lawrence was thinking it over, Holo suddenly looked up.
Though she had moved away from him, the boat's deck was not large. Lawrence soon noticed and followed her gaze.
She was looking downriver.
Just as he wondered if she was concerned about a boat that was heading downriver ahead of them, he heard a plop-plop sound, as though something was spilling.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Wh-what is it?" Lawrence asked in spite of himself.
Her ears and tail flicked around noisily. When she brought her hands down from her hood, her eyes blazed with anger.
As those still, unwavering eyes looked at him, Lawrence couldn't help but verbally retreat. "...Wh-why are you so angry?"
Her normally amber eyes seemed more like red-hot iron. "Angry? Angry, did you say?"
Just when Lawrence realized he had well and truly roused her anger, the vigor drained from her bristling fur as quickly as it had arrived.
It was as though a too-full water skin had popped.
Holo looked at him with ghostlike eyes, now so dispirited that it seemed she had been worn out in but a moment. "You...you would hardly understand why I would say this, anyway."
Holo gave him a sidelong glance and sighed audibly.
She was like a master who'd lost the energy to be angry with a particularly incompetent apprentice.
And yet Lawrence had a thought.
She's saying these things because she's bored and wants me to pay attention to her, he thought.
He said nothing, though—not because he was afraid that saying so would make her still angrier, but rather because Holo had already seen right through him and bared her fangs in warning. "You'd do well to mind your words."
When Lawrence had entered his apprenticeship under a master, the thing he hated more than all else was being asked questions.
If he answered wrong, he was cuffed, and silence earned him a kick.
Evidently Lawrence's thinking was wrong.
Which meant the only alternative was silence.
"You truly do not understand?"
Lawrence sifted through his memories.
He straightened despite himself and averted his gaze.
"'Tis all right if you don't."
At the unexpected words, Lawrence turned back to her. At that point, Holo added with a serious face, "But I won't speak to you until you do."
"Wha—?" Before Lawrence could even begin to ask why she would do something so childish, Holo moved away from him, snatching up the blanket that they shared and wrapping it around herself.
Lawrence was dumbfounded.
He very nearly asked her if she was joking, but stopped himself at the last moment. Holo was as stubborn as a child. If she said she wouldn't speak to him, then she wouldn't speak to him.
However, this was still better than being suddenly ignored. She had gone to the trouble of declaring her intent, a high-level tactic.
Engaging her over her childishly inflammatory words would be unseemly, and ignoring her in retaliation would be even more immature. And having been visibly disturbed by her declaration that she would no longer speak to him, he could hardly regain control.
Looking down at the papers in his hand, Lawrence sighed. He had thought that puzzling over this mystery would be amusing enough, but it seemed not to be to Holo's liking. She'd been happy enough to sift through the papers with him, so what was so upsetting about thinking through the various possibilities?
For Lawrence's part, he imagined that turning the various pointless things over in their minds would be the more fun part. At the very least, Lawrence would learn a thing or two, thanks to Holo's first-rate mind.
Or perhaps she'd simply learned that ill-conceived thinking led to getting involved in dangerous business.
Lawrence didn't understand Holo's mind.
He placed the Jean Company paperwork atop the other papers as a prelude to tidying up.
Holo didn't so much as glance at him. Even for a merchant, skilled as a matter of course in understanding the moods of others, Holo was no ordinary challenge. Terrible punishment awaited any misstep.
As Lawrence was thinking it over, Holo suddenly looked up.
Though she had moved away from him, the boat's deck was not large. Lawrence soon noticed and followed her gaze.
She was looking downriver.
Just as he wondered if she was concerned about a boat that was heading downriver ahead of them, he heard a plop-plop sound, as though something was spilling.
| "What's this?" Lawrence murmured, and when there was no reply from Holo, he looked over in her direction, only to remember that she wasn't speaking to him.
It was like a conditioned response.
He had planned to pass it off as merely talking to himself, but there was just no way to hide it.
No doubt he'd be mocked for this later.
Thinking about it was depressing, but when he thought about having been unable to solve the problem, it was a bit frightening.
Holo emerged from the blanket, without paying Lawrence the slightest heed, and lightly stepped up onto the dock the boat had moored at.
The horse's gallop slowed as it approached the dock, and just before the animal stopped, its rider dismounted. The man wore a mantle wrapped around his shoulders, and from his clothes, a single look made it obvious he was a boatman. He seemed to know Ragusa, as Ragusa and Col walked up the dock onto land to greet the man. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Ragusa and the newcomer were soon asking questions and engaging in conversation.
Col had no way to include himself, so perhaps trying to keep out of the way, he carefully moved away from the two men and stood on the dock.
If it had been Lawrence, he would absolutely have tried to eavesdrop on the conversation—so Col's restraint was laudable.
Whether or not she had made the same estimation, Holo went over to Col and whispered something into his ear.
Lawrence couldn't hear what they were saying, of course, but Col looked up at Holo, surprised, then over to Lawrence himself, as though the topic somehow involved him.
In these circumstances, it could hardly be anything friendly.
Holo whispered in Col's ear again, and he nodded seriously.
She never once looked back in Lawrence's direction.
Though he wasn't worried about Holo disappearing forever the way he had worried in the past, that just gave him a worse feeling about all of this—because Holo knew all of the cards in his hand.
"Right—ahoy! Master!" Evidently the boatmen had finished their talking with characteristic speed, and Ragusa now turned and called out to Lawrence with a wave of his hand.
There was nothing else for Lawrence to do but climb up on the dock.
Holo was standing next to Col, their hands joined.
The two looked more like siblings than anything else, so the sight did not disturb Lawrence the way seeing her with Amati had.
"What is it?"
"Ah, my apologies. It looks like we're going to be walking a bit."
"Walking?" Lawrence asked as the other man, his business concluded, remounted his horse and spurred it farther upriver.
"A big ship's run aground, it seems. Now the whole river's jammed. Everybody was so greedy about getting their furs through, they didn't notice until it was too late, and it just started piling up. Apparently there's a sunken ship on the river's floor now, and they can't find the sunken ship's boatman anywhere, so there may have been some kind of disturbance."
"That's..."
In times of war or when a mercenary troupe was starving, they would attack merchant vessels in this way.
Given the endless and gently sloping plains of this region, the river was shallow and gentle enough that it could be rendered impassable with a single strike.
So a single boat would feign distress and sink, bringing the boats behind it to a standstill, whereupon those boats would be attacked. Naturally doing such things during peacetime would earn one untold amounts of enmity from the landholders who collected taxes from the region.
However, Lawrence could think of one person who was reckless enough to do it.
There was nothing left to do but take off hat and cloak and wave them about.
It was enough to make Lawrence genuinely want to cheer Eve on.
"So, what'll it be?" asked Ragusa.
He was clearly asking whether they could continue to Kerube or not. They had not come half the way to their destination—but that said, it would not be a short walk back to Lenos, either.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "What's this?" Lawrence murmured, and when there was no reply from Holo, he looked over in her direction, only to remember that she wasn't speaking to him.
It was like a conditioned response.
He had planned to pass it off as merely talking to himself, but there was just no way to hide it.
No doubt he'd be mocked for this later.
Thinking about it was depressing, but when he thought about having been unable to solve the problem, it was a bit frightening.
Holo emerged from the blanket, without paying Lawrence the slightest heed, and lightly stepped up onto the dock the boat had moored at.
The horse's gallop slowed as it approached the dock, and just before the animal stopped, its rider dismounted. The man wore a mantle wrapped around his shoulders, and from his clothes, a single look made it obvious he was a boatman. He seemed to know Ragusa, as Ragusa and Col walked up the dock onto land to greet the man. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Ragusa and the newcomer were soon asking questions and engaging in conversation.
Col had no way to include himself, so perhaps trying to keep out of the way, he carefully moved away from the two men and stood on the dock.
If it had been Lawrence, he would absolutely have tried to eavesdrop on the conversation—so Col's restraint was laudable.
Whether or not she had made the same estimation, Holo went over to Col and whispered something into his ear.
Lawrence couldn't hear what they were saying, of course, but Col looked up at Holo, surprised, then over to Lawrence himself, as though the topic somehow involved him.
In these circumstances, it could hardly be anything friendly.
Holo whispered in Col's ear again, and he nodded seriously.
She never once looked back in Lawrence's direction.
Though he wasn't worried about Holo disappearing forever the way he had worried in the past, that just gave him a worse feeling about all of this—because Holo knew all of the cards in his hand.
"Right—ahoy! Master!" Evidently the boatmen had finished their talking with characteristic speed, and Ragusa now turned and called out to Lawrence with a wave of his hand.
There was nothing else for Lawrence to do but climb up on the dock.
Holo was standing next to Col, their hands joined.
The two looked more like siblings than anything else, so the sight did not disturb Lawrence the way seeing her with Amati had.
"What is it?"
"Ah, my apologies. It looks like we're going to be walking a bit."
"Walking?" Lawrence asked as the other man, his business concluded, remounted his horse and spurred it farther upriver.
"A big ship's run aground, it seems. Now the whole river's jammed. Everybody was so greedy about getting their furs through, they didn't notice until it was too late, and it just started piling up. Apparently there's a sunken ship on the river's floor now, and they can't find the sunken ship's boatman anywhere, so there may have been some kind of disturbance."
"That's..."
In times of war or when a mercenary troupe was starving, they would attack merchant vessels in this way.
Given the endless and gently sloping plains of this region, the river was shallow and gentle enough that it could be rendered impassable with a single strike.
So a single boat would feign distress and sink, bringing the boats behind it to a standstill, whereupon those boats would be attacked. Naturally doing such things during peacetime would earn one untold amounts of enmity from the landholders who collected taxes from the region.
However, Lawrence could think of one person who was reckless enough to do it.
There was nothing left to do but take off hat and cloak and wave them about.
It was enough to make Lawrence genuinely want to cheer Eve on.
"So, what'll it be?" asked Ragusa.
He was clearly asking whether they could continue to Kerube or not. They had not come half the way to their destination—but that said, it would not be a short walk back to Lenos, either.
| "Fortunately, there's no word of mercenaries in the area, so things should be restored soon. But the other boats loaded with cargo are at a standstill. Aside from the ones who are desperate enough to jump into the water and swim ashore, they're not going anywhere. If I can unload some of the goods from this boat, I'll have some excess carrying space, which I want to use to carry people and cargo from the grounded boats to the shore. So—I'm sorry, but I'll need you to walk."
After having taken them on board, it was stunningly disgraceful for a boatman to ask his passengers to go ashore and walk. It hardly mattered whether the circumstances were his fault or not.
Ragusa was a boatman who lived within that value system, and his face was clouded.
"I am a merchant, so if you'll lower your fee, I'll walk as much as I need to."
It wasn't quite a friendship between men of different occupations, but Ragusa smiled ruefully and shook hands with Lawrence nonetheless.
The problem was Holo, but before Lawrence could turn to her, Ragusa continued speaking. "Still, I can't very well force a maiden to walk in this cold without any preparation. I hear there are some rather devout fellows stuck on that river. If a girl you could mistake for a goddess were riding along with me, I'm sure it'd pick up their spirits."
Lawrence was a bit relieved.
His stomach hurt at the mere thought of walking along with a silent, uncooperative Holo, and even if she'd been happy, trudging around in this cold would surely have brought out her displeasure.
"So," said Ragusa, "in that case, first I'll need to unload the cargo."
"I'll help."
"Hey now, that makes it sound like I was trying to get you to help me." Ragusa smiled.
Lawrence could only be impressed—he could hardly refuse to help now.
"I said 'unload,' but it's really just the wheat and beans. The chests can stay where they are."
"Shall we get started, then?" said Lawrence, glancing back at the cargo on the boat.
"Aye, lets!" called out Ragusa. "By the by, I couldn't help overhearing your fun little chat earlier."
"Wha—?" His exchange with Holo had been embarrassing enough that Lawrence was suddenly very flustered.
"Ah, don't worry! I didn't hear anything you'd be worried about," said Ragusa with a sheepish grin. "It was just about the eni coin."
"The eni?"
"Aye. It just so happens that's what I'm carrying right now."
Lawrence had wondered if those chests contained coins, but this was a coincidence indeed.
Either that, or Ragusa was teasing, having a bit of fun at Lawrence's expense—but as Lawrence thought it over, that seemed unlikely.
If the chests had contained gold or silver coin, they would've been attended by guards, and a merchant like Lawrence would never have been allowed to ride in the same boat.
And Ragusa's boat was loaded with fully ten chests. If fifty-seven chests were headed downriver in total, that meant roughly four other vessels of this size would be needed.
And because their cargo would have been decided ahead of time, it would be difficult for them to load up on furs for a quick profit. So they would have been tied up at port as usual, which would have made it all the more likely that Lawrence's eye would fall upon one of them.
This all stood to reason—and if it was so, then Ragusa might have some new information.
Lawrence looked at Ragusa with his merchant's eye, and it seemed that Ragusa was waiting for this.
Ragusa suggested with a wink that they first unload the cargo, signaling to Col and Holo (who had been listening to the conversation) to help, then placed his hand on Lawrence's shoulder and brought his face conspiratorially near. "I've a bit of interest in the matter myself. For two years now, that same copper coin has been moved on a fixed day, in a fixed amount—fifty-seven chests, downriver, to the Jean Company, but I'd never given much thought to how many chests it was in total. It was fifty-seven chests, divided up into a certain amount, then carried downriver."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Fortunately, there's no word of mercenaries in the area, so things should be restored soon. But the other boats loaded with cargo are at a standstill. Aside from the ones who are desperate enough to jump into the water and swim ashore, they're not going anywhere. If I can unload some of the goods from this boat, I'll have some excess carrying space, which I want to use to carry people and cargo from the grounded boats to the shore. So—I'm sorry, but I'll need you to walk."
After having taken them on board, it was stunningly disgraceful for a boatman to ask his passengers to go ashore and walk. It hardly mattered whether the circumstances were his fault or not.
Ragusa was a boatman who lived within that value system, and his face was clouded.
"I am a merchant, so if you'll lower your fee, I'll walk as much as I need to."
It wasn't quite a friendship between men of different occupations, but Ragusa smiled ruefully and shook hands with Lawrence nonetheless.
The problem was Holo, but before Lawrence could turn to her, Ragusa continued speaking. "Still, I can't very well force a maiden to walk in this cold without any preparation. I hear there are some rather devout fellows stuck on that river. If a girl you could mistake for a goddess were riding along with me, I'm sure it'd pick up their spirits."
Lawrence was a bit relieved.
His stomach hurt at the mere thought of walking along with a silent, uncooperative Holo, and even if she'd been happy, trudging around in this cold would surely have brought out her displeasure.
"So," said Ragusa, "in that case, first I'll need to unload the cargo."
"I'll help."
"Hey now, that makes it sound like I was trying to get you to help me." Ragusa smiled.
Lawrence could only be impressed—he could hardly refuse to help now.
"I said 'unload,' but it's really just the wheat and beans. The chests can stay where they are."
"Shall we get started, then?" said Lawrence, glancing back at the cargo on the boat.
"Aye, lets!" called out Ragusa. "By the by, I couldn't help overhearing your fun little chat earlier."
"Wha—?" His exchange with Holo had been embarrassing enough that Lawrence was suddenly very flustered.
"Ah, don't worry! I didn't hear anything you'd be worried about," said Ragusa with a sheepish grin. "It was just about the eni coin."
"The eni?"
"Aye. It just so happens that's what I'm carrying right now."
Lawrence had wondered if those chests contained coins, but this was a coincidence indeed.
Either that, or Ragusa was teasing, having a bit of fun at Lawrence's expense—but as Lawrence thought it over, that seemed unlikely.
If the chests had contained gold or silver coin, they would've been attended by guards, and a merchant like Lawrence would never have been allowed to ride in the same boat.
And Ragusa's boat was loaded with fully ten chests. If fifty-seven chests were headed downriver in total, that meant roughly four other vessels of this size would be needed.
And because their cargo would have been decided ahead of time, it would be difficult for them to load up on furs for a quick profit. So they would have been tied up at port as usual, which would have made it all the more likely that Lawrence's eye would fall upon one of them.
This all stood to reason—and if it was so, then Ragusa might have some new information.
Lawrence looked at Ragusa with his merchant's eye, and it seemed that Ragusa was waiting for this.
Ragusa suggested with a wink that they first unload the cargo, signaling to Col and Holo (who had been listening to the conversation) to help, then placed his hand on Lawrence's shoulder and brought his face conspiratorially near. "I've a bit of interest in the matter myself. For two years now, that same copper coin has been moved on a fixed day, in a fixed amount—fifty-seven chests, downriver, to the Jean Company, but I'd never given much thought to how many chests it was in total. It was fifty-seven chests, divided up into a certain amount, then carried downriver."
| Surprised, Col tried to refuse, but in the end, he was forced to put it on.
Col admittedly looked a bit shabby.
He seemed to have some trouble walking in the robe; perhaps it was his first time wearing a long-hemmed article.
"Those fifty-seven chests become sixty when they leave the Jean Company, which means either somebody is secretly carrying more, or the Jean Company is scheming at something."
Returning to the boat, Ragusa stepped lightly aboard and hefted a sack of wheat, which Lawrence took and left on the dock.
Col saw this and quickly hauled out the bean sacks, which he could carry.
The boy's willingness to work hard impressed Lawrence, but he wondered if Col was just trying to eavesdrop on the conversation between him and Ragusa.
"I appreciate the Jean Company always giving me this cargo, and I trust my fellow boatmen doing the same job. But it's these times. Surely God would forgive us being forced to take on a bad partner, would he not?"
Lawrence wasn't Col, but he could certainly still be fooled.
"Of course, it's too soon to take that paper and go to the Jean Company, but one of those chests is a fair transport fee. If this turns out to be the Jean Company's weak point, we'd be in a bind."
It was the problem that faced all who accepted a job.
Lawrence took the last sack of wheat from Ragusa, piled it up on the dock, then answered, "I've no intention of trying to expose the truth of the situation. I'm quite satisfied if I can safely build this house of cards."
"Then I'm sure I can let the ravings of a traveling merchant slide—even if do have a certain partner," said Ragusa with a smile.
For Ragusa and his comrades, who would work on the river their entire lives, the happiness of their clients was an issue of desperate importance. And yet being forced to work with a strange partner could get them literally sunk. They would want to know the truth at least, but the world of those who traveled the river was a small one, and they could not afford to whisper to one another. But a traveling merchant from beyond that world—that was different.
Lawrence wondered if he was overthinking things, but this was at least close to the truth.
Col took Holo's things from her and, without being asked, added them to his own, shouldering the combined burden.
Noticing Lawrence's gaze, he looked in Lawrence's direction, but Lawrence only waved lightly and gestured for him to go on ahead.
"Right, then, do mind my companion—try to keep her from being too awe-inspiring, eh?"
"Ha-ha-ha. Can't have her getting any more worshippers, after all. Worry not, it's not too far on foot. We'll surely meet up by nightfall."
Lawrence nodded, then glanced at Holo, but she was already lying down, curled up in her blanket.
As he looked at her sleeping form, he very keenly appreciated that there was more than one way to quarrel.
***
The walk along the riverbank took its toll.
Having traveled for so long on a wagon, though he wasn't exhausted, Lawrence found it difficult to keep pace with Col.
He wondered how his feet were supposed to keep up this speed.
It made him long for the days when he had been accustomed to traveling on foot and could travel twice as fast as the envious wagon-bound merchants if he was in a hurry.
"There's no gain in hurrying so," Lawrence finally said.
"Yes, sir," the boy replied meekly, slowing his pace.
Ragusa's suddenly lightened vessel had headed downriver with Holo aboard and was soon out of sight. The boats behind it were all larger, and because they were all being stopped at the checkpoint, the river was very quiet.
The calm river's surface was slick looking and shiny, like the slime trail left behind a snail, and it was amusing to watch.
Lawrence almost wanted to say that it looked as though glass had been laid down on the earth, but that seemed a bit exaggerated.
Suddenly a fish splashed through the surface, ruining the glassy look.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Surprised, Col tried to refuse, but in the end, he was forced to put it on.
Col admittedly looked a bit shabby.
He seemed to have some trouble walking in the robe; perhaps it was his first time wearing a long-hemmed article.
"Those fifty-seven chests become sixty when they leave the Jean Company, which means either somebody is secretly carrying more, or the Jean Company is scheming at something."
Returning to the boat, Ragusa stepped lightly aboard and hefted a sack of wheat, which Lawrence took and left on the dock.
Col saw this and quickly hauled out the bean sacks, which he could carry.
The boy's willingness to work hard impressed Lawrence, but he wondered if Col was just trying to eavesdrop on the conversation between him and Ragusa.
"I appreciate the Jean Company always giving me this cargo, and I trust my fellow boatmen doing the same job. But it's these times. Surely God would forgive us being forced to take on a bad partner, would he not?"
Lawrence wasn't Col, but he could certainly still be fooled.
"Of course, it's too soon to take that paper and go to the Jean Company, but one of those chests is a fair transport fee. If this turns out to be the Jean Company's weak point, we'd be in a bind."
It was the problem that faced all who accepted a job.
Lawrence took the last sack of wheat from Ragusa, piled it up on the dock, then answered, "I've no intention of trying to expose the truth of the situation. I'm quite satisfied if I can safely build this house of cards."
"Then I'm sure I can let the ravings of a traveling merchant slide—even if do have a certain partner," said Ragusa with a smile.
For Ragusa and his comrades, who would work on the river their entire lives, the happiness of their clients was an issue of desperate importance. And yet being forced to work with a strange partner could get them literally sunk. They would want to know the truth at least, but the world of those who traveled the river was a small one, and they could not afford to whisper to one another. But a traveling merchant from beyond that world—that was different.
Lawrence wondered if he was overthinking things, but this was at least close to the truth.
Col took Holo's things from her and, without being asked, added them to his own, shouldering the combined burden.
Noticing Lawrence's gaze, he looked in Lawrence's direction, but Lawrence only waved lightly and gestured for him to go on ahead.
"Right, then, do mind my companion—try to keep her from being too awe-inspiring, eh?"
"Ha-ha-ha. Can't have her getting any more worshippers, after all. Worry not, it's not too far on foot. We'll surely meet up by nightfall."
Lawrence nodded, then glanced at Holo, but she was already lying down, curled up in her blanket.
As he looked at her sleeping form, he very keenly appreciated that there was more than one way to quarrel.
***
The walk along the riverbank took its toll.
Having traveled for so long on a wagon, though he wasn't exhausted, Lawrence found it difficult to keep pace with Col.
He wondered how his feet were supposed to keep up this speed.
It made him long for the days when he had been accustomed to traveling on foot and could travel twice as fast as the envious wagon-bound merchants if he was in a hurry.
"There's no gain in hurrying so," Lawrence finally said.
"Yes, sir," the boy replied meekly, slowing his pace.
Ragusa's suddenly lightened vessel had headed downriver with Holo aboard and was soon out of sight. The boats behind it were all larger, and because they were all being stopped at the checkpoint, the river was very quiet.
The calm river's surface was slick looking and shiny, like the slime trail left behind a snail, and it was amusing to watch.
Lawrence almost wanted to say that it looked as though glass had been laid down on the earth, but that seemed a bit exaggerated.
Suddenly a fish splashed through the surface, ruining the glassy look.
| "What is it?"
"About the eni..."
"Ah. You're wondering if there's any money to be made?" asked Lawrence sharply, perhaps out of habit from spending time with Holo. Col nodded, face sober.
The boy thought making money was shameful.
Lawrence faced ahead, inhaling the cold air through his nose and exhaling from his mouth. "I doubt it."
"I...see."
Col was wearing Holo's robe; when he slumped in dejection, it looked like Holo slumping in dejection.
Lawrence shocked himself by reaching his hand out, but Col seemed only slightly surprised when his head was patted.
"Though I wouldn't have guessed you'd be having trouble with money." Lawrence pulled his hand back from Col's head, opening and closing his fingers several times.
He had expected it to feel different from Holo's, but apart from the lack of ears, it felt much the same.
Seen from behind, the only difference Col's figure cut would be the lack of the bulge that Holo's tail created.
"What do you mean?"
"Hmm? Just what I said. Even among wandering scholars, the really clever ones have more money than they can carry and drink wine every day."
It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there were definitely students who earned enough to pay to hear a dozen lectures from a professor clear to the end.
Col had become involved in bookselling because he didn't have enough for even a single lesson.
"Uh, er...I guess there are some like that, yes."
"Have you ever wondered how they get their money?"
"...Surely they steal it from others, I should think."
When looking at someone who's achieved something beyond imagining, it's easy to assume his dishonesty.
One simply concludes he's using some fundamentally different method.
Col's estimation this time was a bit low.
"I expect they're earning money much the same way you do."
"Huh?" Col looked at Lawrence with an expression of disbelief.
It was the same expression Holo used when Lawrence managed a truly excellent verbal comeback.
And because his opponent wasn't Holo, he could afford a bit of pride—but when Lawrence realized what he was doing, he chuckled, chagrined, and scratched his cheek. "Mm. And the only difference between you and fellows like that is effort."
"...Effort?"
"Yes. On your journey, did you sleep nights under borrowed roofs or beg your meals one at a time?"
"Yes."
"So it looks like you think you put forth some effort yourself," said Lawrence with a smile. Col's face tensed, and he looked down.
He was sulking.
"What you put effort into was asking with all your heart if you could please take shelter from the wind or rain or if you could have some hot porridge to warm your cold body."
Col's eyes flicked right, then left, then he nodded.
"But that lot, they're different. They're always focused on getting the most, the biggest return. The stories I've heard are incredible. They put merchants to shame."
There was no reaction for a while, but Lawrence wasn't worried.
He knew Col was a smart lad.
"What...what do they do?"
Asking for instruction was no easy thing—and it was harder the cleverer one was. The more confidence one has in oneself, the more difficult it becomes to ask for help.
Of course, there are people who claim asking others is easier and start out that way.
But those people didn't have eyes like Col's.
Lawrence didn't answer immediately, instead removing a small cask from the pack Col carried, uncorking it, and taking a drink.
It was wine, distilled to the point of being only palely tinted.
He jokingly offered the cask to Col, who shook his head hastily.
The boy's eyes were tinged with fear. He had set out on his journey knowing nothing and had surely met with terrible misfortune.
"For example, say you knock on the door of a house somewhere, and you get a single smoked herring."
Col nodded.
"And say it's desperately meager, and when you remove the skin, there's hardly any meat at all, just the stink of smoke and not much else. So what do you do next?"
"Um..."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "What is it?"
"About the eni..."
"Ah. You're wondering if there's any money to be made?" asked Lawrence sharply, perhaps out of habit from spending time with Holo. Col nodded, face sober.
The boy thought making money was shameful.
Lawrence faced ahead, inhaling the cold air through his nose and exhaling from his mouth. "I doubt it."
"I...see."
Col was wearing Holo's robe; when he slumped in dejection, it looked like Holo slumping in dejection.
Lawrence shocked himself by reaching his hand out, but Col seemed only slightly surprised when his head was patted.
"Though I wouldn't have guessed you'd be having trouble with money." Lawrence pulled his hand back from Col's head, opening and closing his fingers several times.
He had expected it to feel different from Holo's, but apart from the lack of ears, it felt much the same.
Seen from behind, the only difference Col's figure cut would be the lack of the bulge that Holo's tail created.
"What do you mean?"
"Hmm? Just what I said. Even among wandering scholars, the really clever ones have more money than they can carry and drink wine every day."
It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there were definitely students who earned enough to pay to hear a dozen lectures from a professor clear to the end.
Col had become involved in bookselling because he didn't have enough for even a single lesson.
"Uh, er...I guess there are some like that, yes."
"Have you ever wondered how they get their money?"
"...Surely they steal it from others, I should think."
When looking at someone who's achieved something beyond imagining, it's easy to assume his dishonesty.
One simply concludes he's using some fundamentally different method.
Col's estimation this time was a bit low.
"I expect they're earning money much the same way you do."
"Huh?" Col looked at Lawrence with an expression of disbelief.
It was the same expression Holo used when Lawrence managed a truly excellent verbal comeback.
And because his opponent wasn't Holo, he could afford a bit of pride—but when Lawrence realized what he was doing, he chuckled, chagrined, and scratched his cheek. "Mm. And the only difference between you and fellows like that is effort."
"...Effort?"
"Yes. On your journey, did you sleep nights under borrowed roofs or beg your meals one at a time?"
"Yes."
"So it looks like you think you put forth some effort yourself," said Lawrence with a smile. Col's face tensed, and he looked down.
He was sulking.
"What you put effort into was asking with all your heart if you could please take shelter from the wind or rain or if you could have some hot porridge to warm your cold body."
Col's eyes flicked right, then left, then he nodded.
"But that lot, they're different. They're always focused on getting the most, the biggest return. The stories I've heard are incredible. They put merchants to shame."
There was no reaction for a while, but Lawrence wasn't worried.
He knew Col was a smart lad.
"What...what do they do?"
Asking for instruction was no easy thing—and it was harder the cleverer one was. The more confidence one has in oneself, the more difficult it becomes to ask for help.
Of course, there are people who claim asking others is easier and start out that way.
But those people didn't have eyes like Col's.
Lawrence didn't answer immediately, instead removing a small cask from the pack Col carried, uncorking it, and taking a drink.
It was wine, distilled to the point of being only palely tinted.
He jokingly offered the cask to Col, who shook his head hastily.
The boy's eyes were tinged with fear. He had set out on his journey knowing nothing and had surely met with terrible misfortune.
"For example, say you knock on the door of a house somewhere, and you get a single smoked herring."
Col nodded.
"And say it's desperately meager, and when you remove the skin, there's hardly any meat at all, just the stink of smoke and not much else. So what do you do next?"
"Um..."
| His answer came quickly. "I would...eat half, then save the other half."
"And eat it on the next day."
"Yes."
Lawrence was impressed the boy had made it this far.
"So once you had a herring, you wouldn't then go try to get some soup?"
"...Are you saying I should go around to lots of houses?" Col spoke not admiringly; his eyes seemed a bit dissatisfied.
For Lawrence, this conversation could hardly fail to be amusing.
"So there's a good reason you don't do that?"
Col nodded, displeased.
He wasn't so stupid as to do something without a reason. "The reason I succeeded once...was because I was lucky."
"That's true. The world isn't overflowing with good, kind people, after all."
***
He had taken the bait this far.
Holo would have pretended to swallow it, then tied the fishing line to the bottom of the pond. The moment Lawrence pulled up on the rod, he would be dragged under.
Col would not do such things.
"In business, the more money you have, the more smoothly things go. It's because you have more tools. But you go into battle unarmed every time. So you come out of it wounded."
Col's eyes wavered.
They wavered but soon regained their vitality.
This was what it meant to be clever.
"...So you mean I should use the herring?"
The hook was set now.
To think that there was such pleasure in the world.
"That's right. You take the herring, and with it seek your next donation."
"Wha—?" Col's look of surprise was so profound it seemed it would never fade.
And why wouldn't he be surprised?
How could someone who's already received one fish use it to ask for another one?
But it could be done.
And easily.
"You take the herring. It's better if you have a friend, and younger than you. You take him along and knock on a door. 'Excuse me, sir,' you say. 'You live devoutly by the teachings of God. Look, sir—I have a single herring. But I cannot possibly eat it. Please look, sir—look at my companion. Today is his birthday. If you could spare us some kindness, and give me alms enough to make this herring into a pie for him to eat. Just enough for that, sir—please.'"
Solicitousness was the specialty of the merchant.
Lawrence made a good performance of it as Col gulped and watched.
"Listen to this speech. Who could refuse? The key is asking for just enough money for herring pie. Nobody is going to light their stove for you, but if it's money, they'll certainly spare some."
"Ah, er, so you mean any amount—"
"Yes. You take one herring from house to house, and some of those people are going to tell you that one herring isn't possibly enough, so you'll get more. Then once you've made the rounds through town, whoosh."
Col looked so dazed that one could have hung a sign that said DAZED on him and collected coins for the performance.
He seemed to be tasting the shock of having his entire world turned upside down.
There were amazing people in the world who could imagine truly inconceivable things.
"I won't go so far as to say, 'Hunger knows no law,' but depending on how you think about it, there's no harm in giving alms to a poor wandering scholar, and giving even a small amount of money makes the giver feel good about themselves, so nobody loses. If you have extra money or food, you can even give some to your accomplice. So what do you think? Did you learn anything?"
What made Holo's sleeping face so attractive was that her normally guarded wisewolf mien was innocent, guileless.
However, that was usually irrelevant.
Col's face was so naive in the face of the shock that, while he wasn't as fetching as Holo, he definitely did have his own charm.
"Ignorance is a sin." Lawrence patted the back of Col's head, at which Col sighed and nodded.
"I've heard the saying 'Know thyself.'"
"Well, that's true, but the important thing is—," began Lawrence but then looked behind him at the sound of hooves.
Perhaps there had been men on horses riding on the boat that had been held up at the checkpoint.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | His answer came quickly. "I would...eat half, then save the other half."
"And eat it on the next day."
"Yes."
Lawrence was impressed the boy had made it this far.
"So once you had a herring, you wouldn't then go try to get some soup?"
"...Are you saying I should go around to lots of houses?" Col spoke not admiringly; his eyes seemed a bit dissatisfied.
For Lawrence, this conversation could hardly fail to be amusing.
"So there's a good reason you don't do that?"
Col nodded, displeased.
He wasn't so stupid as to do something without a reason. "The reason I succeeded once...was because I was lucky."
"That's true. The world isn't overflowing with good, kind people, after all."
***
He had taken the bait this far.
Holo would have pretended to swallow it, then tied the fishing line to the bottom of the pond. The moment Lawrence pulled up on the rod, he would be dragged under.
Col would not do such things.
"In business, the more money you have, the more smoothly things go. It's because you have more tools. But you go into battle unarmed every time. So you come out of it wounded."
Col's eyes wavered.
They wavered but soon regained their vitality.
This was what it meant to be clever.
"...So you mean I should use the herring?"
The hook was set now.
To think that there was such pleasure in the world.
"That's right. You take the herring, and with it seek your next donation."
"Wha—?" Col's look of surprise was so profound it seemed it would never fade.
And why wouldn't he be surprised?
How could someone who's already received one fish use it to ask for another one?
But it could be done.
And easily.
"You take the herring. It's better if you have a friend, and younger than you. You take him along and knock on a door. 'Excuse me, sir,' you say. 'You live devoutly by the teachings of God. Look, sir—I have a single herring. But I cannot possibly eat it. Please look, sir—look at my companion. Today is his birthday. If you could spare us some kindness, and give me alms enough to make this herring into a pie for him to eat. Just enough for that, sir—please.'"
Solicitousness was the specialty of the merchant.
Lawrence made a good performance of it as Col gulped and watched.
"Listen to this speech. Who could refuse? The key is asking for just enough money for herring pie. Nobody is going to light their stove for you, but if it's money, they'll certainly spare some."
"Ah, er, so you mean any amount—"
"Yes. You take one herring from house to house, and some of those people are going to tell you that one herring isn't possibly enough, so you'll get more. Then once you've made the rounds through town, whoosh."
Col looked so dazed that one could have hung a sign that said DAZED on him and collected coins for the performance.
He seemed to be tasting the shock of having his entire world turned upside down.
There were amazing people in the world who could imagine truly inconceivable things.
"I won't go so far as to say, 'Hunger knows no law,' but depending on how you think about it, there's no harm in giving alms to a poor wandering scholar, and giving even a small amount of money makes the giver feel good about themselves, so nobody loses. If you have extra money or food, you can even give some to your accomplice. So what do you think? Did you learn anything?"
What made Holo's sleeping face so attractive was that her normally guarded wisewolf mien was innocent, guileless.
However, that was usually irrelevant.
Col's face was so naive in the face of the shock that, while he wasn't as fetching as Holo, he definitely did have his own charm.
"Ignorance is a sin." Lawrence patted the back of Col's head, at which Col sighed and nodded.
"I've heard the saying 'Know thyself.'"
"Well, that's true, but the important thing is—," began Lawrence but then looked behind him at the sound of hooves.
Perhaps there had been men on horses riding on the boat that had been held up at the checkpoint.
| One horse. Two. Then three.
Seven in total.
How many men among them would be able to realize the profits they'd been anticipating?
Even if they knew something, it would be difficult to turn that into profit.
The important thing was—
"The important thing is to think of something nobody else is thinking of. 'Ignorance is a sin' is not about knowledge—it's about wisdom."
Col opened his eyes and gritted his teeth.
The hand that held the strap of the bag over his shoulder trembled a bit.
He looked up. "Thank you very much, master."
Truly, only the gods profit in the end.
It was quite pleasant traveling with Col.
The boy kept silent, though, on the matter of what Holo had said to him earlier.
He was clad in Holo's hooded cloak.
Holo had long since left her scent on the boy.
It would be difficult to reverse that.
"Hey, I can see it up ahead!"
"Hmm? ...Oh, indeed. Looks like it's turned into quite a mess."
On the gently downward-sloping plain, the view ahead was free from obstacles.
There was still a good distance to walk, but nonetheless the main details were apparent.
True to Ragusa's words, a large ship was diagonally blocking the river, and behind it was a tangle of vessels caught in the obstruction.
The boat that was stopped near the riverbank might have been Ragusa's.
There were many men on horseback as well, the majority of whom were surely the messengers of noblemen, bearing urgent news.
Many other people milled around, but it was difficult to tell what they were doing.
"It seems kind of like a festival," said Col, dazed, and Lawrence gave the boy's profile a casual glance.
Maybe it was because the boy was looking far off into the distance, but somehow he seemed lonely, as though he were longing for his homeland.
Lawrence, too, had left his tiny home village and its stifling gray air but still sometimes thought fondly of it.
The boy's eyes seemed moist, but the sun was fairly low in the sky, so it might simply have been from the color-tinged light that reflected in them.
"Where were you born?" Lawrence asked without thinking.
"Huh?"
"If you don't want to answer, that's fine, too." Even Lawrence, when asked where he was from, would put on airs and name the town closest to the hamlet where he was born.
Of course, half of the reason he did so was because nobody would recognize the name of his village anyway.
"U-um, it's a place called Pinu," said Col nervously; Lawrence had indeed never heard of it.
"Sorry, I don't know it. Where is it? The east?"
From Col's accent, Lawrence guessed he might also be from the deep southeast.
It was a country of hot seas and limestone.
Of course, Lawrence had only heard stories of it.
"No, the north. Actually, it's not so very far from here..."
"Oh?"
If he was from the north and wanted to study Church law, he might have been related to immigrants from the south.
There were many who had abandoned their households to seek new lands in the north.
But most of those had been unable to accustom themselves to the new place, and things had been difficult.
"Are you familiar with the Roef River that flows into the Roam?"
Lawrence nodded.
"It's toward the headwaters there—up in the mountains. Winters are cold, I suppose. But when the snow falls, it's very pretty."
Lawrence was a bit surprised.
He remembered the story about Holo that was in the book he'd borrowed from Rigolo. It said that she'd come out of the mountains of Roef.
But when it came to people wandering about this region, ones from the south were surely rare.
The Roef River was quite long—the population of its basin was certainly the greater figure.
"If you're moving slowly, it's two weeks from here. If things really don't work out, I was thinking I might go back home," said Col, embarrassed. Lawrence, of course, did not smile.
It required an unbelievable amount of determination to leave one's village.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | One horse. Two. Then three.
Seven in total.
How many men among them would be able to realize the profits they'd been anticipating?
Even if they knew something, it would be difficult to turn that into profit.
The important thing was—
"The important thing is to think of something nobody else is thinking of. 'Ignorance is a sin' is not about knowledge—it's about wisdom."
Col opened his eyes and gritted his teeth.
The hand that held the strap of the bag over his shoulder trembled a bit.
He looked up. "Thank you very much, master."
Truly, only the gods profit in the end.
It was quite pleasant traveling with Col.
The boy kept silent, though, on the matter of what Holo had said to him earlier.
He was clad in Holo's hooded cloak.
Holo had long since left her scent on the boy.
It would be difficult to reverse that.
"Hey, I can see it up ahead!"
"Hmm? ...Oh, indeed. Looks like it's turned into quite a mess."
On the gently downward-sloping plain, the view ahead was free from obstacles.
There was still a good distance to walk, but nonetheless the main details were apparent.
True to Ragusa's words, a large ship was diagonally blocking the river, and behind it was a tangle of vessels caught in the obstruction.
The boat that was stopped near the riverbank might have been Ragusa's.
There were many men on horseback as well, the majority of whom were surely the messengers of noblemen, bearing urgent news.
Many other people milled around, but it was difficult to tell what they were doing.
"It seems kind of like a festival," said Col, dazed, and Lawrence gave the boy's profile a casual glance.
Maybe it was because the boy was looking far off into the distance, but somehow he seemed lonely, as though he were longing for his homeland.
Lawrence, too, had left his tiny home village and its stifling gray air but still sometimes thought fondly of it.
The boy's eyes seemed moist, but the sun was fairly low in the sky, so it might simply have been from the color-tinged light that reflected in them.
"Where were you born?" Lawrence asked without thinking.
"Huh?"
"If you don't want to answer, that's fine, too." Even Lawrence, when asked where he was from, would put on airs and name the town closest to the hamlet where he was born.
Of course, half of the reason he did so was because nobody would recognize the name of his village anyway.
"U-um, it's a place called Pinu," said Col nervously; Lawrence had indeed never heard of it.
"Sorry, I don't know it. Where is it? The east?"
From Col's accent, Lawrence guessed he might also be from the deep southeast.
It was a country of hot seas and limestone.
Of course, Lawrence had only heard stories of it.
"No, the north. Actually, it's not so very far from here..."
"Oh?"
If he was from the north and wanted to study Church law, he might have been related to immigrants from the south.
There were many who had abandoned their households to seek new lands in the north.
But most of those had been unable to accustom themselves to the new place, and things had been difficult.
"Are you familiar with the Roef River that flows into the Roam?"
Lawrence nodded.
"It's toward the headwaters there—up in the mountains. Winters are cold, I suppose. But when the snow falls, it's very pretty."
Lawrence was a bit surprised.
He remembered the story about Holo that was in the book he'd borrowed from Rigolo. It said that she'd come out of the mountains of Roef.
But when it came to people wandering about this region, ones from the south were surely rare.
The Roef River was quite long—the population of its basin was certainly the greater figure.
"If you're moving slowly, it's two weeks from here. If things really don't work out, I was thinking I might go back home," said Col, embarrassed. Lawrence, of course, did not smile.
It required an unbelievable amount of determination to leave one's village.
| Yet wanting to return home was an emotion that everyone felt at one point or another.
"So did you immigrate to Pinu, then?"
"Immigrate?"
"What I mean is, did you migrate there from the south?"
Col gaped for a moment, then shook his head. "N-no, but there's story that the village's original location sank into the bottom of a lake created in a landslide."
"Oh no, I just mean that not many people from the northlands study Church law."
Col's eyes twinkled at the words, and he smiled with a touch of self-consciousness. "My master—er, I mean, Professor Rient—used to say such things, as well. 'If only more people from the pagan lands would open their eyes to the Church's teachings,' he would say."
Lawrence wondered why Col's bashful smile seemed so self-conscious.
"No doubt. Did any missionaries come to your town?"
If they had been moderate missionaries, it would be by God's grace. Most fought with sword in hand, engaging in plunder and murder under the auspices of "reform."
But if that had been the case, Col would have learned to loathe the Church and would never have thought to study Church law.
"No missionaries came to Pinu," he said, and again his gaze was fixed in the distance.
His profile was somehow terribly unsuited to his true age.
"They came to a village two mountains away—a place smaller than Pinu, with many hunters skilled in trapping owl and fox. One day men came there from out of the south and built a church."
It seemed unlikely that Col would then explain that the villagers had thankfully listened to the missionaries' sermons and opened their eyes to God.
The reason was obvious.
"But," said Lawrence, "each village had its own god; those who rebelled against the Church were—"
Surprised, Col looked at Lawrence.
That was more than enough.
"I guess you'd have to say I'm an enemy of the Church now. Can you explain what happened?" asked Lawrence.
Still stunned, Col seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but unable to form the words, he closed his mouth.
He looked down, casting his gaze this way and that, before looking back up at Lawrence.
"Truly?"
It was obvious Col was unused to doubting other people.
If he stayed this softhearted, much suffering awaited him.
And yet for all that, it was part of the boy's charm.
"Yes, in God's name I swear."
Col's wincing face was so charming that Lawrence couldn't help patting the boy's head.
"...The headmen of all the villages in our region hadn't assembled in 220 years, I heard," began Col. "They met for many days, discussing whether to bow to the Church or to fight back. As I remember it, the mood wasn't one of agreeing to hold a discussion with the Church, I don't think. The news that reached us across the mountains every day was only about who had been executed. But eventually winter came, and the leader of the Church fell ill, and we were saved when he left the mountain, muttering that he didn't want to die in a pagan land like this. Of course, if it had come to a fight, we knew the mountains and there were more of us, so we would have won."
If that had been the real intent, they would have done so when the Church started taking violent action.
The reason they hadn't was because they all understood what would happen if reinforcements arrived.
It wasn't as though no information ever entered the mountain villages from the outside world.
"But after the Church leader became ill and had to simply withdraw, I began thinking."
As soon as he said it, Lawrence understood.
Col was a bright lad.
Instead of thinking about his personal beliefs, he chose to take the most logical path to defend his village.
He realized the absurd power that came with wearing the robes of a high-ranking priest, the power to begin and end the exchange of human lives at will.
He would study Church law and eat into its power structures.
That was how Col intended to protect his village.
"And no one opposed your decision?"
Even Holo would become emotional, talking of her homeland.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Yet wanting to return home was an emotion that everyone felt at one point or another.
"So did you immigrate to Pinu, then?"
"Immigrate?"
"What I mean is, did you migrate there from the south?"
Col gaped for a moment, then shook his head. "N-no, but there's story that the village's original location sank into the bottom of a lake created in a landslide."
"Oh no, I just mean that not many people from the northlands study Church law."
Col's eyes twinkled at the words, and he smiled with a touch of self-consciousness. "My master—er, I mean, Professor Rient—used to say such things, as well. 'If only more people from the pagan lands would open their eyes to the Church's teachings,' he would say."
Lawrence wondered why Col's bashful smile seemed so self-conscious.
"No doubt. Did any missionaries come to your town?"
If they had been moderate missionaries, it would be by God's grace. Most fought with sword in hand, engaging in plunder and murder under the auspices of "reform."
But if that had been the case, Col would have learned to loathe the Church and would never have thought to study Church law.
"No missionaries came to Pinu," he said, and again his gaze was fixed in the distance.
His profile was somehow terribly unsuited to his true age.
"They came to a village two mountains away—a place smaller than Pinu, with many hunters skilled in trapping owl and fox. One day men came there from out of the south and built a church."
It seemed unlikely that Col would then explain that the villagers had thankfully listened to the missionaries' sermons and opened their eyes to God.
The reason was obvious.
"But," said Lawrence, "each village had its own god; those who rebelled against the Church were—"
Surprised, Col looked at Lawrence.
That was more than enough.
"I guess you'd have to say I'm an enemy of the Church now. Can you explain what happened?" asked Lawrence.
Still stunned, Col seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but unable to form the words, he closed his mouth.
He looked down, casting his gaze this way and that, before looking back up at Lawrence.
"Truly?"
It was obvious Col was unused to doubting other people.
If he stayed this softhearted, much suffering awaited him.
And yet for all that, it was part of the boy's charm.
"Yes, in God's name I swear."
Col's wincing face was so charming that Lawrence couldn't help patting the boy's head.
"...The headmen of all the villages in our region hadn't assembled in 220 years, I heard," began Col. "They met for many days, discussing whether to bow to the Church or to fight back. As I remember it, the mood wasn't one of agreeing to hold a discussion with the Church, I don't think. The news that reached us across the mountains every day was only about who had been executed. But eventually winter came, and the leader of the Church fell ill, and we were saved when he left the mountain, muttering that he didn't want to die in a pagan land like this. Of course, if it had come to a fight, we knew the mountains and there were more of us, so we would have won."
If that had been the real intent, they would have done so when the Church started taking violent action.
The reason they hadn't was because they all understood what would happen if reinforcements arrived.
It wasn't as though no information ever entered the mountain villages from the outside world.
"But after the Church leader became ill and had to simply withdraw, I began thinking."
As soon as he said it, Lawrence understood.
Col was a bright lad.
Instead of thinking about his personal beliefs, he chose to take the most logical path to defend his village.
He realized the absurd power that came with wearing the robes of a high-ranking priest, the power to begin and end the exchange of human lives at will.
He would study Church law and eat into its power structures.
That was how Col intended to protect his village.
"And no one opposed your decision?"
Even Holo would become emotional, talking of her homeland.
| "I see. They must have believed that you could do it."
Col nodded, then stopped to wipe his tears on his shoulder before walking again. "They secretly lent me some money, too...so I have to find a way to get back in school."
His greatest motivation was perhaps the need for money.
He who fought for the sake of something else was always stronger than he who fought for himself.
Lawrence was not, however, so prosperous that he could afford to become Col's patron.
But he might be able to give the boy some small aid.
By teaching him how to make a bit of money and how to avoid traps, Lawrence might be able to bring a bit of color to the boy's journey.
"I can't really help you out with your money problems right now, but..."
Col sniffled. "Oh! N-no, that's not—"
"But about that copper coin. If you can find enough of an answer to convince Ragusa, then there might be a reward in it for you."
The reason Lawrence didn't stipulate the answer was because there was no way of knowing what that was without asking the Jean Company. But while that was impossible, they might infer enough of the truth to convince Ragusa.
There'd be no sin in expecting a reward for such a thing.
One had to reward anyone who helped pluck a thorn from his finger.
"Of course, the most helpful effect it will have is taking away the nervousness of the journey," said Lawrence with a smile, lightly patting Col's head.
While by Holo's standards, Lawrence was always being too serious, compared to this boy, he was practically mellow.
"Still, just a moment ago you said it looked like a festival—did you mean it looked like Pinu's festivals? Are they like that?" asked Lawrence, pointing at the grounded vessel now that the details of the scene had come into view.
A small mountain of wreckage from the ships had been collected on the riverbank, and beside it, several men were lighting fires and drying their clothes.
But that was certainly not the main event—the main event was the rope that extended from underneath the grounded vessel and the men on the shore that were pulling on it.
They were a mix of ages and appearances, with their only commonality being that their journey downriver had been interrupted by this calamity.
A few of the greediest were shouldering their cargoes and heading downriver, but most set them aside and put their backs into pulling on the rope.
Even a long-mantled knight on horseback was joining in the effort, so spirits were high. A few men were on the ship's deck with poles, keeping it from tipping over or being washed away—they raised their voices in chorus along with the rest.
Col watched the scene, entranced, then at length looked back at Lawrence. "This is more fun than that!"
Lawrence held back the words that came upon seeing Col's expression.
It was hard to imagine a more suitable apprentice should he choose to take one—and not just because Holo had said so.
Once Lawrence's journey with Holo came to an end, the cold, hard, lonely road of the traveling merchant still awaited him. And even if Col was no substitute for Holo, the lad could certainly sit in the driver's box beside Lawrence.
But Col had his own goals and did not exist only for Lawrence's convenience.
Which was why Lawrence forced himself not to ask, "Will you be my apprentice?" (though it took considerable effort).
Lawrence grumbled quietly to the gods that Col's goal was not becoming a merchant.
"I suppose we'd best help them out, then. Pulling on that rope will warm us against the chill."
"Yes, sir!"
Just as Lawrence and Col began to walk, Ragusa waved his pole with a smile and raised his voice, his boat slipping lightly down the river.
There was a huge difference between watching from afar and actually pulling on the rope.
The peaty ground sloshed around when stepped on, and without gloves, the rope and the cold air mercilessly wore away at the skin of the hands.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I see. They must have believed that you could do it."
Col nodded, then stopped to wipe his tears on his shoulder before walking again. "They secretly lent me some money, too...so I have to find a way to get back in school."
His greatest motivation was perhaps the need for money.
He who fought for the sake of something else was always stronger than he who fought for himself.
Lawrence was not, however, so prosperous that he could afford to become Col's patron.
But he might be able to give the boy some small aid.
By teaching him how to make a bit of money and how to avoid traps, Lawrence might be able to bring a bit of color to the boy's journey.
"I can't really help you out with your money problems right now, but..."
Col sniffled. "Oh! N-no, that's not—"
"But about that copper coin. If you can find enough of an answer to convince Ragusa, then there might be a reward in it for you."
The reason Lawrence didn't stipulate the answer was because there was no way of knowing what that was without asking the Jean Company. But while that was impossible, they might infer enough of the truth to convince Ragusa.
There'd be no sin in expecting a reward for such a thing.
One had to reward anyone who helped pluck a thorn from his finger.
"Of course, the most helpful effect it will have is taking away the nervousness of the journey," said Lawrence with a smile, lightly patting Col's head.
While by Holo's standards, Lawrence was always being too serious, compared to this boy, he was practically mellow.
"Still, just a moment ago you said it looked like a festival—did you mean it looked like Pinu's festivals? Are they like that?" asked Lawrence, pointing at the grounded vessel now that the details of the scene had come into view.
A small mountain of wreckage from the ships had been collected on the riverbank, and beside it, several men were lighting fires and drying their clothes.
But that was certainly not the main event—the main event was the rope that extended from underneath the grounded vessel and the men on the shore that were pulling on it.
They were a mix of ages and appearances, with their only commonality being that their journey downriver had been interrupted by this calamity.
A few of the greediest were shouldering their cargoes and heading downriver, but most set them aside and put their backs into pulling on the rope.
Even a long-mantled knight on horseback was joining in the effort, so spirits were high. A few men were on the ship's deck with poles, keeping it from tipping over or being washed away—they raised their voices in chorus along with the rest.
Col watched the scene, entranced, then at length looked back at Lawrence. "This is more fun than that!"
Lawrence held back the words that came upon seeing Col's expression.
It was hard to imagine a more suitable apprentice should he choose to take one—and not just because Holo had said so.
Once Lawrence's journey with Holo came to an end, the cold, hard, lonely road of the traveling merchant still awaited him. And even if Col was no substitute for Holo, the lad could certainly sit in the driver's box beside Lawrence.
But Col had his own goals and did not exist only for Lawrence's convenience.
Which was why Lawrence forced himself not to ask, "Will you be my apprentice?" (though it took considerable effort).
Lawrence grumbled quietly to the gods that Col's goal was not becoming a merchant.
"I suppose we'd best help them out, then. Pulling on that rope will warm us against the chill."
"Yes, sir!"
Just as Lawrence and Col began to walk, Ragusa waved his pole with a smile and raised his voice, his boat slipping lightly down the river.
There was a huge difference between watching from afar and actually pulling on the rope.
The peaty ground sloshed around when stepped on, and without gloves, the rope and the cold air mercilessly wore away at the skin of the hands.
| Whereupon everyone would naturally fall over, and soon they were all covered in mud.
Lawrence and the other merchants and travelers started out enthusiastically, but as soon as the hardship became apparent, they began to visibly lose their vigor.
No matter how hard they pulled, the only things that surfaced were fragments of the ruined ship, so morale—like the vessel—was low.
And the boatmen, who had stripped naked in the freezing weather to dive underwater and attach the rope to the ship, were blue-lipped and white-faced with the cold.
After lighting a fire, a traveling actress and a seamstress—encouraged by Holo and Ragusa—jumped into the river, but the water was so cold that no amount of willpower could overcome it. When they dragged themselves back onto the bank, they looked terrible.
Finally, unable to watch any further, an older boatman called out. Perhaps boatmen were too stubborn themselves to admit that it was impossible. His distorted face was painful to see.
A wave of surrender was emanating from Lawrence and the rest. Merchants were quick to pull out of a game once they saw there was no profit in it.
The boatmen, who lived their lives on the river, seemed to have every intention of using sheer willpower to raise the ship, but as one and then another let go of the rope and doubled over in exhaustion, they seemed to understand that it was impossible. They held a conference around a middle-aged member of their profession and soon came to a decision.
Both Lenos and Kerube were distant, and the sun would soon be setting.
If the boatmen made their passengers wait any longer, they would unavoidably leave a bad impression.
Without further ado, the rope hauling was ended.
Lawrence did not neglect his own fitness, but he rarely had the need to do such labor. His body felt leaden, and the palms of his hands burned as though scorched. His swollen left cheek was cold enough that it no longer felt painful.
"Are you all right?" Lawrence asked.
Col had quickly pulled away from the tug-of-war. Perhaps because of the festive atmosphere around him, he'd done his best, carried away by the mood and putting all his strength into the task.
But his body was slender and he soon reached the end of his endurance, retreating apologetically from the task.
"Ah, yes...I'm really sorry."
"Don't be. Look at all these merchants. They wish they'd done what you did." Lawrence motioned with his chin at the small clumps of merchants sitting here and there, who weren't even trying to hide their irritation at the unfavorable outcome that the investment of their effort had produced.
Some of them were losing their temper—most likely the ones who were trying to move furs downriver.
"How do you plan to compensate us for this loss?" they cried.
If Lawrence had also been moving cargo this way, he would have felt much the same. Though he felt bad for the boatmen who were the target of such anger, he did nothing to intervene.
And the worst part of the entire situation were the people aboard the boats that had been hung up on the wreckage of the sunken ship—particularly a boat roughly triple the size of Ragusa's that was literally heaped with furs. They were trying to get the furs ashore, and looking at the amount, Lawrence could understand why. Even if there hadn't been a sunken ship blocking the middle of the river, a small disturbance would have been sufficient to capsize the overloaded vessel.
A quick search did not reveal whoever was to blame for the situation.
Lawrence imagined they were hiding in order to avoid criticism, but that hardly seemed cowardly.
It was no exaggeration to say that in trade, whoever was first to move their goods was the first to profit. That was especially true for seaport towns, where great ships would arrive carrying huge amounts of goods, and it was even said that for ships carrying the same goods, only the first two to arrive would turn any profit.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Whereupon everyone would naturally fall over, and soon they were all covered in mud.
Lawrence and the other merchants and travelers started out enthusiastically, but as soon as the hardship became apparent, they began to visibly lose their vigor.
No matter how hard they pulled, the only things that surfaced were fragments of the ruined ship, so morale—like the vessel—was low.
And the boatmen, who had stripped naked in the freezing weather to dive underwater and attach the rope to the ship, were blue-lipped and white-faced with the cold.
After lighting a fire, a traveling actress and a seamstress—encouraged by Holo and Ragusa—jumped into the river, but the water was so cold that no amount of willpower could overcome it. When they dragged themselves back onto the bank, they looked terrible.
Finally, unable to watch any further, an older boatman called out. Perhaps boatmen were too stubborn themselves to admit that it was impossible. His distorted face was painful to see.
A wave of surrender was emanating from Lawrence and the rest. Merchants were quick to pull out of a game once they saw there was no profit in it.
The boatmen, who lived their lives on the river, seemed to have every intention of using sheer willpower to raise the ship, but as one and then another let go of the rope and doubled over in exhaustion, they seemed to understand that it was impossible. They held a conference around a middle-aged member of their profession and soon came to a decision.
Both Lenos and Kerube were distant, and the sun would soon be setting.
If the boatmen made their passengers wait any longer, they would unavoidably leave a bad impression.
Without further ado, the rope hauling was ended.
Lawrence did not neglect his own fitness, but he rarely had the need to do such labor. His body felt leaden, and the palms of his hands burned as though scorched. His swollen left cheek was cold enough that it no longer felt painful.
"Are you all right?" Lawrence asked.
Col had quickly pulled away from the tug-of-war. Perhaps because of the festive atmosphere around him, he'd done his best, carried away by the mood and putting all his strength into the task.
But his body was slender and he soon reached the end of his endurance, retreating apologetically from the task.
"Ah, yes...I'm really sorry."
"Don't be. Look at all these merchants. They wish they'd done what you did." Lawrence motioned with his chin at the small clumps of merchants sitting here and there, who weren't even trying to hide their irritation at the unfavorable outcome that the investment of their effort had produced.
Some of them were losing their temper—most likely the ones who were trying to move furs downriver.
"How do you plan to compensate us for this loss?" they cried.
If Lawrence had also been moving cargo this way, he would have felt much the same. Though he felt bad for the boatmen who were the target of such anger, he did nothing to intervene.
And the worst part of the entire situation were the people aboard the boats that had been hung up on the wreckage of the sunken ship—particularly a boat roughly triple the size of Ragusa's that was literally heaped with furs. They were trying to get the furs ashore, and looking at the amount, Lawrence could understand why. Even if there hadn't been a sunken ship blocking the middle of the river, a small disturbance would have been sufficient to capsize the overloaded vessel.
A quick search did not reveal whoever was to blame for the situation.
Lawrence imagined they were hiding in order to avoid criticism, but that hardly seemed cowardly.
It was no exaggeration to say that in trade, whoever was first to move their goods was the first to profit. That was especially true for seaport towns, where great ships would arrive carrying huge amounts of goods, and it was even said that for ships carrying the same goods, only the first two to arrive would turn any profit.
| Several merchant-looking men weren't even complaining, and instead sat dispirited, their heads in their hands, tormented by the uncertainty of whether they would be able to turn their furs into money.
There was no telling how many of them would be able to maintain their composure.
It would hardly be surprising if they simply exploded.
"So...what will happen next?" Col asked, producing a water skin and handing it to Lawrence.
Col was in no particular hurry to arrive in Kerube; he was simply taking in the scene and asking a question.
"The river has many owners along its way, and each is responsible for what happens on his section. Most likely the landlord of this section will dispatch horses and men first thing in the morning—with horses pulling, I'm sure they'll be able to haul the wreck out."
"I see..." Col looked hazily at the river's surface, perhaps imagining the team of horses all attached to the rope.
Lawrence put the water skin to his lips as he gazed at the wreck, its prow pointing straight up out of the water as though it were about to jump into the air.
Suddenly he heard footsteps.
He turned, thinking it might be Holo, but there was Ragusa.
"Ho, friend! Sorry to make you walk," said the man with a light wave, which allowed Lawrence to see the palm of his thick hand was swollen and red.
No doubt getting people and goods ashore with the river so jammed with boats had been a difficult task.
The effort of getting his boat so close to the shore had certainly taken more effort than his usual work did.
If even a little bit of the hull was touching the ground, moving the vessel required no ordinary amount of strength.
"Not at all—I don't mind walking along the river."
"Ha-ha-ha! I'll take you at your word, then," a chagrined Ragusa said with a laugh, scratching his face and looking out at the river with a sigh. "This really is the worst luck. I guess they'll be able to do something about it by tomorrow morning."
"Do you think the ship sinking has anything to do with the fur trade?" asked Lawrence. It was natural to think so.
Thus asked, Ragusa nodded, tousling Col's hair as the boy stared vaguely out at the river, exhausted. "I reckon so. Still, this is madness. Must be some fool who holds money dearer than their life. They could be strapped to the breaking wheel for this, without so much as a by-your-leave. Terrifying."
The breaking wheel was a gruesome form of execution, with victims being tied to a wagon wheel and broken, then left upon a hill to be eaten by the crows, still tied to the wheel.
Lawrence was confident that Eve would escape, though.
He even hoped she would safely claim her profits, bearing her no ill will for snatching his own.
"So what of you lot, then?" asked Ragusa.
"What do you mean?"
"If you keep walking down the road, there's an inn attached to a checkpoint. Of course, it's no place for a lady to stay the night," said Ragusa, looking over at Holo.
Holo, for her part, was chattering happily with a tall woman who looked to be an actress or performer.
"Right now, the master of that wreck of a ship along with the cargo owner are headed upriver to negotiate with some peddlers. I daresay that food and drink will arrive around sundown, but if you wait for that, you'll be camping, make no mistake."
Lawrence now understood why the ship's master had been nowhere to be seen.
"We never expect to have a roof over our heads while traveling. Quite the contrary—we'll be thankful that it's solid ground rather than a rocking boat," answered Lawrence.
Ragusa winced as if looking at something very bright, then shrugged his muscled shoulders awkwardly.
He then sighed. "I'm just glad it's only merchants on the boats. If we'd been carrying mercenaries, this would've gone very badly."
"Still, some of them seem quite angry."
Ragusa laughed. "I'll take their shouting! Mercenaries will draw their swords first and ask questions later."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Several merchant-looking men weren't even complaining, and instead sat dispirited, their heads in their hands, tormented by the uncertainty of whether they would be able to turn their furs into money.
There was no telling how many of them would be able to maintain their composure.
It would hardly be surprising if they simply exploded.
"So...what will happen next?" Col asked, producing a water skin and handing it to Lawrence.
Col was in no particular hurry to arrive in Kerube; he was simply taking in the scene and asking a question.
"The river has many owners along its way, and each is responsible for what happens on his section. Most likely the landlord of this section will dispatch horses and men first thing in the morning—with horses pulling, I'm sure they'll be able to haul the wreck out."
"I see..." Col looked hazily at the river's surface, perhaps imagining the team of horses all attached to the rope.
Lawrence put the water skin to his lips as he gazed at the wreck, its prow pointing straight up out of the water as though it were about to jump into the air.
Suddenly he heard footsteps.
He turned, thinking it might be Holo, but there was Ragusa.
"Ho, friend! Sorry to make you walk," said the man with a light wave, which allowed Lawrence to see the palm of his thick hand was swollen and red.
No doubt getting people and goods ashore with the river so jammed with boats had been a difficult task.
The effort of getting his boat so close to the shore had certainly taken more effort than his usual work did.
If even a little bit of the hull was touching the ground, moving the vessel required no ordinary amount of strength.
"Not at all—I don't mind walking along the river."
"Ha-ha-ha! I'll take you at your word, then," a chagrined Ragusa said with a laugh, scratching his face and looking out at the river with a sigh. "This really is the worst luck. I guess they'll be able to do something about it by tomorrow morning."
"Do you think the ship sinking has anything to do with the fur trade?" asked Lawrence. It was natural to think so.
Thus asked, Ragusa nodded, tousling Col's hair as the boy stared vaguely out at the river, exhausted. "I reckon so. Still, this is madness. Must be some fool who holds money dearer than their life. They could be strapped to the breaking wheel for this, without so much as a by-your-leave. Terrifying."
The breaking wheel was a gruesome form of execution, with victims being tied to a wagon wheel and broken, then left upon a hill to be eaten by the crows, still tied to the wheel.
Lawrence was confident that Eve would escape, though.
He even hoped she would safely claim her profits, bearing her no ill will for snatching his own.
"So what of you lot, then?" asked Ragusa.
"What do you mean?"
"If you keep walking down the road, there's an inn attached to a checkpoint. Of course, it's no place for a lady to stay the night," said Ragusa, looking over at Holo.
Holo, for her part, was chattering happily with a tall woman who looked to be an actress or performer.
"Right now, the master of that wreck of a ship along with the cargo owner are headed upriver to negotiate with some peddlers. I daresay that food and drink will arrive around sundown, but if you wait for that, you'll be camping, make no mistake."
Lawrence now understood why the ship's master had been nowhere to be seen.
"We never expect to have a roof over our heads while traveling. Quite the contrary—we'll be thankful that it's solid ground rather than a rocking boat," answered Lawrence.
Ragusa winced as if looking at something very bright, then shrugged his muscled shoulders awkwardly.
He then sighed. "I'm just glad it's only merchants on the boats. If we'd been carrying mercenaries, this would've gone very badly."
"Still, some of them seem quite angry."
Ragusa laughed. "I'll take their shouting! Mercenaries will draw their swords first and ask questions later."
| "Still, whoever sank that ship had best watch their step. I hope Count Bulgar catches them."
While Lawrence was inwardly cheering for Eve, he certainly understood Ragusa's anger.
But he felt that if he responded to that statement, he might give away his own feelings, so Lawrence changed the subject.
"Didn't you have some urgent cargo, as well?"
The boat carried copper coin.
Since it was meant to be carried across the sea, its transport plan was stricter than normal cargo.
"Aye. The plan was to take delivery of the cargo in Lenos, but the merchant was late—so I'm already behind schedule. None of this is my fault, but when I think of what'll happen once I make it to Kerube, it's downright depressing."
"I've carried cargo like that before. It's nerve-racking," agreed Lawrence.
To make a single suit of clothes, it was quiet common for the sourcing of the raw materials, the construction, the dyeing, the tailoring, and the final sale to all be in different towns.
As it traveled from one merchant to another, one shipper to another, a single hiccup in the process would disrupt the entire chain.
That sheep's wool from some far-flung land could cross the ocean to become clothing in another was a miracle by itself—to be able to do it on schedule and at a profit was godlike achievement.
But it is the way of the world that the impossible is frequently demanded.
Ragusa's hardships were hidden.
"And worse, it's cargo with a strange history! Did you figure anything out about that?"
He undoubtedly meant that the number of copper coins headed to the Jean Company in Kerube did not add up.
If it turned out to be something interesting, Ragusa would probably feel some measure of satisfaction.
"Unfortunately not."
"Well, nobody's noticed so far. I guess it's not a question so easily answered."
That stood to reason.
"By the way—," Ragusa began.
"Yes?"
The big man cracked his neck and turned back to Lawrence, continuing, "Did something happen with your lovely companion?"
"Wh—"
Lawrence's inability to coolly ask "Why would you ask?" was proof enough that something had indeed happened.
Even the drowsy Col now looked up at Lawrence.
How did Ragusa know something had happened?
"Why, I just wondered why she hadn't come back to you now that things have calmed down a bit—guess I was right," said Ragusa, and though Col nodded, he seemed a bit shocked. "Come now," Ragusa continued, "you can't tell me you didn't notice after how close you were before. She didn't seem to want to leave your side for a moment! Am I right?" He directed these last words to Col, who nodded hesitantly.
Lawrence looked away and shaded his eyes with his hand.
"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Ragusa. "Don't grow up like this fellow, you hear?"
Lawrence groaned at this final blow, battered by Col's timid, bewildered reply.
What would Holo say if she were here?
Come to think of it, she was probably eavesdropping with those keen ears of hers.
"So, come now—out with it."
"...Huh?"
"What did you quarrel over? When the wine and food arrives from upstream, things will turn very festive indeed, you know. And this lot is going to have their share of anger to vent once they get some liquor in their bellies. They'll be a pack of wolves."
Ragusa grinned, baring teeth that while crooked were strong enough to chew through even the toughest grass.
Lawrence's experiences on his journey had given him the means not to be too flustered by Ragusa's jokes; however, that he would be unable to speak with Holo during the festivities was a great loss, indeed.
If nothing else, the fact that the end of the journey was now decided meant he couldn't afford to waste even a single day with her.
How many chances remained to enjoy a festival with Holo?
Merchants were always considering profit and loss. Always.
And the fact remained that he still didn't know why Holo was angry. Perhaps to Ragusa, who was a few years older than Lawrence, the solution was obvious.
The problem was, he had to speak up.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Still, whoever sank that ship had best watch their step. I hope Count Bulgar catches them."
While Lawrence was inwardly cheering for Eve, he certainly understood Ragusa's anger.
But he felt that if he responded to that statement, he might give away his own feelings, so Lawrence changed the subject.
"Didn't you have some urgent cargo, as well?"
The boat carried copper coin.
Since it was meant to be carried across the sea, its transport plan was stricter than normal cargo.
"Aye. The plan was to take delivery of the cargo in Lenos, but the merchant was late—so I'm already behind schedule. None of this is my fault, but when I think of what'll happen once I make it to Kerube, it's downright depressing."
"I've carried cargo like that before. It's nerve-racking," agreed Lawrence.
To make a single suit of clothes, it was quiet common for the sourcing of the raw materials, the construction, the dyeing, the tailoring, and the final sale to all be in different towns.
As it traveled from one merchant to another, one shipper to another, a single hiccup in the process would disrupt the entire chain.
That sheep's wool from some far-flung land could cross the ocean to become clothing in another was a miracle by itself—to be able to do it on schedule and at a profit was godlike achievement.
But it is the way of the world that the impossible is frequently demanded.
Ragusa's hardships were hidden.
"And worse, it's cargo with a strange history! Did you figure anything out about that?"
He undoubtedly meant that the number of copper coins headed to the Jean Company in Kerube did not add up.
If it turned out to be something interesting, Ragusa would probably feel some measure of satisfaction.
"Unfortunately not."
"Well, nobody's noticed so far. I guess it's not a question so easily answered."
That stood to reason.
"By the way—," Ragusa began.
"Yes?"
The big man cracked his neck and turned back to Lawrence, continuing, "Did something happen with your lovely companion?"
"Wh—"
Lawrence's inability to coolly ask "Why would you ask?" was proof enough that something had indeed happened.
Even the drowsy Col now looked up at Lawrence.
How did Ragusa know something had happened?
"Why, I just wondered why she hadn't come back to you now that things have calmed down a bit—guess I was right," said Ragusa, and though Col nodded, he seemed a bit shocked. "Come now," Ragusa continued, "you can't tell me you didn't notice after how close you were before. She didn't seem to want to leave your side for a moment! Am I right?" He directed these last words to Col, who nodded hesitantly.
Lawrence looked away and shaded his eyes with his hand.
"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Ragusa. "Don't grow up like this fellow, you hear?"
Lawrence groaned at this final blow, battered by Col's timid, bewildered reply.
What would Holo say if she were here?
Come to think of it, she was probably eavesdropping with those keen ears of hers.
"So, come now—out with it."
"...Huh?"
"What did you quarrel over? When the wine and food arrives from upstream, things will turn very festive indeed, you know. And this lot is going to have their share of anger to vent once they get some liquor in their bellies. They'll be a pack of wolves."
Ragusa grinned, baring teeth that while crooked were strong enough to chew through even the toughest grass.
Lawrence's experiences on his journey had given him the means not to be too flustered by Ragusa's jokes; however, that he would be unable to speak with Holo during the festivities was a great loss, indeed.
If nothing else, the fact that the end of the journey was now decided meant he couldn't afford to waste even a single day with her.
How many chances remained to enjoy a festival with Holo?
Merchants were always considering profit and loss. Always.
And the fact remained that he still didn't know why Holo was angry. Perhaps to Ragusa, who was a few years older than Lawrence, the solution was obvious.
The problem was, he had to speak up.
| "Come, have some trust in me! Listen well, now—" Ragusa put his massive arm over Lawrence's shoulders; it seemed strong enough to knock Lawrence out with a single wave.
It seemed as though he was trying to hide their conversation from Col, but Col stuck close to Ragusa and listened in.
"I've got some confidence when it comes to such troublesome matters. Know why?"
Lawrence shook his head, and Ragusa took his arm off Lawrence and thrust his chest out proudly. "I've been taking boats up and down the river for past twenty years. When it comes to water under the bridge, you just leave it to me!"
Behind Ragusa and some distance away, Holo had been talking to the actress when Lawrence saw her suddenly burst into laughter.
She had been listening in.
Holo did not seem displeased.
Which meant she, too, wanted this cleared up as soon as possible.
And while Lawrence couldn't really count on Ragusa, he might as well talk to him, since Lawrence and Holo's relationship was evidently easily understood from the outside.
"In that case...may I?"
"Count on me, friend."
They put their heads together—not just Ragusa, either, but Col as well.
Though their ages and professions were different and though they had only met that same day, the three now looked like old friends.
Lawrence coolly considered that before he'd met Holo, this would never have happened.
He somehow felt that even if he had to leave her, he would be able to go on.
"Does anyone have any old rags or things they don't need?"
The call went out, and soon an impressive pile had been collected.
It was piled up on the riverbank as preparations for the festivities continued.
There had been a peddler selling food at the checkpoint upriver, and the man's entire mule load of food had been bought up and handed out without hesitation.
At first, several merchants had vented their spleens at the master of the sunken vessel and the fur shipper, as though the weight of their sins was equal to the weight of the furs they'd tried to move—but beating them wouldn't make the river usable.
Of course, that didn't mean that the other merchants would simply say nothing, but if anything, the loud exchanges were a kind of ceremony to shed the frustration that the clogged river had caused.
In the end there was no violence, and after a short pause, the food and drink the provisions shipper had bought was passed out, and smiles returned to everyone's faces.
Since there was nothing else that could be done, not enjoying themselves would have been a waste.
Despite the mood of enemies joining hands in merriment, there was no one by Lawrence's side.
Not even Ragusa or Col was there.
"Don't grow up like this fellow, you hear?"
After Lawrence had explained the circumstances of Holo's anger, the two had fallen silent.
At length, Ragusa had opened his mouth to speak, but not to Lawrence—to Col.
Col had very considerately not answered Ragusa's first question, but when Ragusa looked to him and asked, "You've figured it out, too, haven't you?" he had hesitantly nodded in the affirmative.
Which meant Lawrence was at fault—so Ragusa had put his heavy arm over Col's shoulders and forcibly taken the boy away.
He had left Lawrence with but a single hint.
"The river does indeed flow. But—why does it flow?"
It was a complete riddle.
Col had cocked his head in confusion at the words as well, but when Ragusa whispered in the boy's ear, his eyes had lit up with comprehension.
It seemed both of them had easily understood the reason for Holo's anger.
What was worse, it was evidently something so obvious that they had half given up on him, leaving him alone to ponder his mistakes.
Lawrence felt like an apprentice who had been left to stand outside because he was unable to do as he was told.
As he saw Ragusa and Col talking with Holo, that feeling grew more and more pronounced.
No—that was it exactly, with Holo conspicuously avoiding looking in his direction, and Col and Ragusa occasionally sneaking furtive glances.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Come, have some trust in me! Listen well, now—" Ragusa put his massive arm over Lawrence's shoulders; it seemed strong enough to knock Lawrence out with a single wave.
It seemed as though he was trying to hide their conversation from Col, but Col stuck close to Ragusa and listened in.
"I've got some confidence when it comes to such troublesome matters. Know why?"
Lawrence shook his head, and Ragusa took his arm off Lawrence and thrust his chest out proudly. "I've been taking boats up and down the river for past twenty years. When it comes to water under the bridge, you just leave it to me!"
Behind Ragusa and some distance away, Holo had been talking to the actress when Lawrence saw her suddenly burst into laughter.
She had been listening in.
Holo did not seem displeased.
Which meant she, too, wanted this cleared up as soon as possible.
And while Lawrence couldn't really count on Ragusa, he might as well talk to him, since Lawrence and Holo's relationship was evidently easily understood from the outside.
"In that case...may I?"
"Count on me, friend."
They put their heads together—not just Ragusa, either, but Col as well.
Though their ages and professions were different and though they had only met that same day, the three now looked like old friends.
Lawrence coolly considered that before he'd met Holo, this would never have happened.
He somehow felt that even if he had to leave her, he would be able to go on.
"Does anyone have any old rags or things they don't need?"
The call went out, and soon an impressive pile had been collected.
It was piled up on the riverbank as preparations for the festivities continued.
There had been a peddler selling food at the checkpoint upriver, and the man's entire mule load of food had been bought up and handed out without hesitation.
At first, several merchants had vented their spleens at the master of the sunken vessel and the fur shipper, as though the weight of their sins was equal to the weight of the furs they'd tried to move—but beating them wouldn't make the river usable.
Of course, that didn't mean that the other merchants would simply say nothing, but if anything, the loud exchanges were a kind of ceremony to shed the frustration that the clogged river had caused.
In the end there was no violence, and after a short pause, the food and drink the provisions shipper had bought was passed out, and smiles returned to everyone's faces.
Since there was nothing else that could be done, not enjoying themselves would have been a waste.
Despite the mood of enemies joining hands in merriment, there was no one by Lawrence's side.
Not even Ragusa or Col was there.
"Don't grow up like this fellow, you hear?"
After Lawrence had explained the circumstances of Holo's anger, the two had fallen silent.
At length, Ragusa had opened his mouth to speak, but not to Lawrence—to Col.
Col had very considerately not answered Ragusa's first question, but when Ragusa looked to him and asked, "You've figured it out, too, haven't you?" he had hesitantly nodded in the affirmative.
Which meant Lawrence was at fault—so Ragusa had put his heavy arm over Col's shoulders and forcibly taken the boy away.
He had left Lawrence with but a single hint.
"The river does indeed flow. But—why does it flow?"
It was a complete riddle.
Col had cocked his head in confusion at the words as well, but when Ragusa whispered in the boy's ear, his eyes had lit up with comprehension.
It seemed both of them had easily understood the reason for Holo's anger.
What was worse, it was evidently something so obvious that they had half given up on him, leaving him alone to ponder his mistakes.
Lawrence felt like an apprentice who had been left to stand outside because he was unable to do as he was told.
As he saw Ragusa and Col talking with Holo, that feeling grew more and more pronounced.
No—that was it exactly, with Holo conspicuously avoiding looking in his direction, and Col and Ragusa occasionally sneaking furtive glances.
| Holo dragged Col out from under Ragusa's arm, self-indulgently petting the boy's head and hugging him.
Lawrence could tell Col was getting flustered, but as soon as Col glanced at Lawrence, the latter could do nothing but look away, frowning.
He was being made fun of.
But strangely, Lawrence didn't feel bad—not even when being laughed at by Ragusa and Col as well as Holo.
Not long ago, right up until he had met Holo, he'd believed that once a merchant's reputation was damaged, regaining it was no simple task.
So he'd stuck out his chest, put on airs, told lies, and trusted no one.
And he realized that that behavior was exactly the same as what came to mind when he looked at Col.
When Lawrence had proposed to buy Col's sheaf of paper, Col had glared resentfully at him, as though refusing to be forced into selling it cheaply.
Such an action was worse than useless—it made Col look cheap and unsightly, yet Lawrence knew fully well that he himself had been captive to the same behavior until recently.
No wonder Holo teases me, he murmured inwardly, grabbing a handful of his own hair.
He started to question whether he was even a full-fledged merchant.
Holo clearly saw him as a conceited, self-absorbed youngster.
He couldn't help but smile.
Though he had been so starved for company that he'd begun to wish his horse would talk, becoming close to others really was this simple.
Lawrence wondered if the people he'd met so far had looked at him with the same indulgent smile with which Holo and Ragusa looked at the stubborn Col.
And yet—
"All this said, this doesn't tell me what the right answer is," said Lawrence to himself, sighing.
Ragusa and Col left Holo to get some of the wine that was going around.
Col must have had a bad experience with liquor in the past, because even from a distance, it was obvious he didn't like it, but Ragusa still hung drunkenly on to the boy.
Col had left the pack that he was carrying there by Lawrence; he took the distilled wine out of it.
Lawrence had chosen the strong distilled liquor in anticipation of the cold night aboard the boat, where it would be impossible to light a fire—but he expected Holo's reasoning was a bit different.
She had probably been thinking of something strange when she happily smacked Lawrence—but what?
The riddles piled up one after another.
Lawrence's confidence that he had a better-than-average mind steadily eroded, but such pathetic thoughts lasted only a moment.
A cry arose, and suddenly there on the twilit riverbank bloomed a large fireball.
No—not a fireball, Lawrence realized, but the bonfire made of discarded rags and broken barrels flared up so fast once lit that it was an easy mistake to make.
Someone had to have thrown oil on it.
The thick black smoke rose into the air like a skull, the yellow flames crackling.
On a winter journey, where there was a fire, the words friend and enemy had no meaning.
At no particular signal, everyone raised their cups.
Then suddenly, things developed.
The woman Holo had been speaking with seemed indeed to be an actress, and she and her troupe jumped forth, as if proclaiming the event their stage.
There was flute and drum, song and dance. Some cheerful people followed, skillfully avoiding spilling their wine as they danced.
Their dance was not the smooth, careful footwork of the imperial palace, but a leaping, prancing, mad thing.
The rest of the gathered people watched and laughed, raising their voices together or, like Ragusa, playing drinking games.
No one was near Lawrence.
A sad smile rose to his lips, but he stifled it when he sensed a presence in the darkness borne from the fire.
There was only one person who would bother with a foolish traveling merchant like him.
He looked, and it was Holo.
"Whew. Talking after a long silence—it makes one thirsty," she said, as though talking to herself. She then swiped the cask away from Lawrence and took a drink.
This was no ale or thin wine.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo dragged Col out from under Ragusa's arm, self-indulgently petting the boy's head and hugging him.
Lawrence could tell Col was getting flustered, but as soon as Col glanced at Lawrence, the latter could do nothing but look away, frowning.
He was being made fun of.
But strangely, Lawrence didn't feel bad—not even when being laughed at by Ragusa and Col as well as Holo.
Not long ago, right up until he had met Holo, he'd believed that once a merchant's reputation was damaged, regaining it was no simple task.
So he'd stuck out his chest, put on airs, told lies, and trusted no one.
And he realized that that behavior was exactly the same as what came to mind when he looked at Col.
When Lawrence had proposed to buy Col's sheaf of paper, Col had glared resentfully at him, as though refusing to be forced into selling it cheaply.
Such an action was worse than useless—it made Col look cheap and unsightly, yet Lawrence knew fully well that he himself had been captive to the same behavior until recently.
No wonder Holo teases me, he murmured inwardly, grabbing a handful of his own hair.
He started to question whether he was even a full-fledged merchant.
Holo clearly saw him as a conceited, self-absorbed youngster.
He couldn't help but smile.
Though he had been so starved for company that he'd begun to wish his horse would talk, becoming close to others really was this simple.
Lawrence wondered if the people he'd met so far had looked at him with the same indulgent smile with which Holo and Ragusa looked at the stubborn Col.
And yet—
"All this said, this doesn't tell me what the right answer is," said Lawrence to himself, sighing.
Ragusa and Col left Holo to get some of the wine that was going around.
Col must have had a bad experience with liquor in the past, because even from a distance, it was obvious he didn't like it, but Ragusa still hung drunkenly on to the boy.
Col had left the pack that he was carrying there by Lawrence; he took the distilled wine out of it.
Lawrence had chosen the strong distilled liquor in anticipation of the cold night aboard the boat, where it would be impossible to light a fire—but he expected Holo's reasoning was a bit different.
She had probably been thinking of something strange when she happily smacked Lawrence—but what?
The riddles piled up one after another.
Lawrence's confidence that he had a better-than-average mind steadily eroded, but such pathetic thoughts lasted only a moment.
A cry arose, and suddenly there on the twilit riverbank bloomed a large fireball.
No—not a fireball, Lawrence realized, but the bonfire made of discarded rags and broken barrels flared up so fast once lit that it was an easy mistake to make.
Someone had to have thrown oil on it.
The thick black smoke rose into the air like a skull, the yellow flames crackling.
On a winter journey, where there was a fire, the words friend and enemy had no meaning.
At no particular signal, everyone raised their cups.
Then suddenly, things developed.
The woman Holo had been speaking with seemed indeed to be an actress, and she and her troupe jumped forth, as if proclaiming the event their stage.
There was flute and drum, song and dance. Some cheerful people followed, skillfully avoiding spilling their wine as they danced.
Their dance was not the smooth, careful footwork of the imperial palace, but a leaping, prancing, mad thing.
The rest of the gathered people watched and laughed, raising their voices together or, like Ragusa, playing drinking games.
No one was near Lawrence.
A sad smile rose to his lips, but he stifled it when he sensed a presence in the darkness borne from the fire.
There was only one person who would bother with a foolish traveling merchant like him.
He looked, and it was Holo.
"Whew. Talking after a long silence—it makes one thirsty," she said, as though talking to herself. She then swiped the cask away from Lawrence and took a drink.
This was no ale or thin wine.
| Then, after exhaling a great puff of breath, she sat down right on the spot.
She seemed to have given up on ignoring him, Lawrence thought, so he sat next to her.
"So, that actress...what were you talking ab—"
He didn't finish the sentence, because as soon as he started speaking, Holo looked bluntly away.
What stunned him was not that she wouldn't listen to him.
It was that he was happy about it.
"Ugh, 'tis a cold night," said Holo, not replying to Lawrence in the slightest. She did not meet his eyes, but as she spoke, she drew near him, just as she would when they were in the driver's box of the wagon.
At first, Lawrence wondered if she was being stubborn, but then he realized that he was the stubborn one.
He somehow got the feeling that if he apologized now, though it might be pathetic, she would forgive him.
It was earlier that she had been angry at him for failing to understand something obvious.
But now, it could be that since she had been able to make fun of and snicker at Lawrence, she would hear him out.
He was tempted to simply say, "I don't know."
Leaning against him there, she would probably look up, irritated at the noise.
Then she would hurl some irritated invective at him.
But she wouldn't stand up, nor would she move away from him.
It was as if she was saying that the closer she was, the better she could hear him.
Lawrence did not doubt the idea. After all, doubting that would be tantamount to doubting everything that happened on his travels with her.
A faint, chagrined smile appeared on his face.
Holo seemed to notice this; her ears flicked beneath her hood. Her tail wagged in anticipation of the pathetic words she would soon hear.
Lawrence spoke, as if to answer that anticipation.
"Those traveling performers are excellent. That's a lovely dance."
"Wha—?" Holo flinched away as though her tail had been stepped on, looking up at Lawrence.
"Hmm?" he asked, but of course received no reply.
There was nothing Holo hated more than being surprised by having her expectations defied.
The quick switching of her tail made her anger very clear.
It was clear, yet her amusement was also undeniable.
"I-I may have caught cold. My nose is rather itchy." The slight tremor in her voice might have been from the frustration at having been bested by Lawrence or from the effort of trying not to laugh.
Holo took a drink of the liquor, as though to swallow the feeling down, then burped.
Lawrence could tell that the ensuing silence came from each of them, groping for the next move, trying to best the other.
The sun gave a last glimmer before sinking beneath the horizon, and after a single breath, the stars flickered into existence. People crowded around the bonfire, merchant and boatman alike trying to turn the bad luck of the river delay into something special.
The journey of life was short, and one couldn't waste a single day.
The flute was blown, the drum beaten, and the misfortune of the sunken ship turned into a funny tune by a minstrel.
There were alluring dancing girls with sashes aflutter as they danced, along with exhausted, clumsily dancing revelers, who seemed to constantly totter, on the verge of spilling the drinks they held.
Lawrence had been focused on getting Holo to say what was on her mind, but now he felt like he understood what it was that had settled into her thoughts.
Holo, who believed anything was better with drink, could hardly sit still in this environment. This was no time for her to be talking about her feelings with a hopelessly outclassed merchant.
Holo looked up at Lawrence doubtfully.
Since declaring that she would speak to him no more, perhaps she really planned to make good on that promise, but that said, he felt it would be a bad idea to stand up from this spot.
Perhaps that was it.
Lawrence ignored her gaze just as she'd ignored him, instead taking the wine cask from her hands. "With strong liquor, the cold won't be so bad for a while."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Then, after exhaling a great puff of breath, she sat down right on the spot.
She seemed to have given up on ignoring him, Lawrence thought, so he sat next to her.
"So, that actress...what were you talking ab—"
He didn't finish the sentence, because as soon as he started speaking, Holo looked bluntly away.
What stunned him was not that she wouldn't listen to him.
It was that he was happy about it.
"Ugh, 'tis a cold night," said Holo, not replying to Lawrence in the slightest. She did not meet his eyes, but as she spoke, she drew near him, just as she would when they were in the driver's box of the wagon.
At first, Lawrence wondered if she was being stubborn, but then he realized that he was the stubborn one.
He somehow got the feeling that if he apologized now, though it might be pathetic, she would forgive him.
It was earlier that she had been angry at him for failing to understand something obvious.
But now, it could be that since she had been able to make fun of and snicker at Lawrence, she would hear him out.
He was tempted to simply say, "I don't know."
Leaning against him there, she would probably look up, irritated at the noise.
Then she would hurl some irritated invective at him.
But she wouldn't stand up, nor would she move away from him.
It was as if she was saying that the closer she was, the better she could hear him.
Lawrence did not doubt the idea. After all, doubting that would be tantamount to doubting everything that happened on his travels with her.
A faint, chagrined smile appeared on his face.
Holo seemed to notice this; her ears flicked beneath her hood. Her tail wagged in anticipation of the pathetic words she would soon hear.
Lawrence spoke, as if to answer that anticipation.
"Those traveling performers are excellent. That's a lovely dance."
"Wha—?" Holo flinched away as though her tail had been stepped on, looking up at Lawrence.
"Hmm?" he asked, but of course received no reply.
There was nothing Holo hated more than being surprised by having her expectations defied.
The quick switching of her tail made her anger very clear.
It was clear, yet her amusement was also undeniable.
"I-I may have caught cold. My nose is rather itchy." The slight tremor in her voice might have been from the frustration at having been bested by Lawrence or from the effort of trying not to laugh.
Holo took a drink of the liquor, as though to swallow the feeling down, then burped.
Lawrence could tell that the ensuing silence came from each of them, groping for the next move, trying to best the other.
The sun gave a last glimmer before sinking beneath the horizon, and after a single breath, the stars flickered into existence. People crowded around the bonfire, merchant and boatman alike trying to turn the bad luck of the river delay into something special.
The journey of life was short, and one couldn't waste a single day.
The flute was blown, the drum beaten, and the misfortune of the sunken ship turned into a funny tune by a minstrel.
There were alluring dancing girls with sashes aflutter as they danced, along with exhausted, clumsily dancing revelers, who seemed to constantly totter, on the verge of spilling the drinks they held.
Lawrence had been focused on getting Holo to say what was on her mind, but now he felt like he understood what it was that had settled into her thoughts.
Holo, who believed anything was better with drink, could hardly sit still in this environment. This was no time for her to be talking about her feelings with a hopelessly outclassed merchant.
Holo looked up at Lawrence doubtfully.
Since declaring that she would speak to him no more, perhaps she really planned to make good on that promise, but that said, he felt it would be a bad idea to stand up from this spot.
Perhaps that was it.
Lawrence ignored her gaze just as she'd ignored him, instead taking the wine cask from her hands. "With strong liquor, the cold won't be so bad for a while."
| Lawrence wondered if she was going to go dance, but her clothing was a bit loose, and her ears and tail were peeking out, which was a bit worrisome.
Holo's eyes shone.
No doubt her eyes had looked much like this during the festival they'd read about in Lenos.
And it was understandable, too, that in an atmosphere of fun like this, she might carelessly let slip her tail, and thus would come another name—the wheaten tail.
She might even become carried away and assume her wolf form, raising a great furor.
She surely wouldn't do something like that here and now, but based on the way she was checking her robe and sash, she planned to do some serious dancing.
Looking at her, Lawrence couldn't help voicing what came to mind. "You should just take your wolf form and pull that sunken ship right out—"
It was not because Holo's happy expression suddenly vanished that Lawrence stopped talking; nor was it because he remembered that she wouldn't answer him.
Holo assuming her wolf form and pulling the wreck out of the river. It wasn't actually feasible, of course, but it was certainly within the realm of a forgivable joke.
It wasn't an awkward thing to say, really.
It wasn't that—it was that he really couldn't imagine Holo assuming her wolf form for just anyone.
As to why that was, the answer came to Lawrence immediately.
And that answer led him to another conclusion with startling speed.
Holo's once expressionless face now looked down on Lawrence with an exasperated smile; by contrast, Lawrence felt his own face grow sober. The reason Holo had been angry—he finally understood it.
"Honestly...," said Holo, looking around briefly before coming down to him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sat lightly upon him.
As a man, it was a pleasant sensation for Lawrence, but given that she was doing this, she must have been truly angry enough to want to ignore him.
"One can flatter a pig right up a tree, but flattering a male just makes him lose himself. Didn't I say as much?" Holo half whispered into Lawrence's ear, their cheeks close enough to touch—but Lawrence knew full well her eyes were narrowed and sharp.
And the fact that Holo had looked around before coming to him was not because she didn't want anyone to see her like this. It was quite the opposite.
At the end of his gaze, Lawrence saw Ragusa covering Col's eyes as the boy squirmed to get away, Ragusa laughing hugely.
His boatmen friends were watching too, of course, grinning as the sight made a pleasant side dish to go with their liquor.
It wasn't so much embarrassing as it was simply awkward.
"If our positions were reversed, you would surely have been just as angry. Am I wrong?"
Her resentful tone made Lawrence fear she'd bite his ear clean off.
But that was not what he was truly afraid of.
Holo did not kill her prey quickly—she preferred to toy with it for a while before ending its life.
"Hmph." She unwrapped her arms from around his neck, sat up, then looked down at Lawrence and spoke, baring her fangs. "Will you now show me how sincere you are?"
When she poked the tip of his nose with her finger, he did not resist.
Holo grinned, then stood up and spun about like a whirl of wind.
All that was left behind was the warmth of her body and her somehow sweet scent.
Her smile did not remain in his memory.
After all, as the one who held the coin purse, that was a very dangerous smile indeed.
"Sincerity?" Lawrence muttered to himself, taking a drink of liquor.
It had been when he was trying to get her to consider the copper coin puzzle with him.
Holo was very clever, and her abilities to jibe at Lawrence, laugh at him, and make him laugh were excellent. Her mind was so sharp it could fairly be described as "mysterious"; it had saved him more than once.
So he thought she would enjoy the challenge.
But that hadn't been the case.
Ragusa had told Lawrence, "The river does indeed flow. But—why does it flow?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence wondered if she was going to go dance, but her clothing was a bit loose, and her ears and tail were peeking out, which was a bit worrisome.
Holo's eyes shone.
No doubt her eyes had looked much like this during the festival they'd read about in Lenos.
And it was understandable, too, that in an atmosphere of fun like this, she might carelessly let slip her tail, and thus would come another name—the wheaten tail.
She might even become carried away and assume her wolf form, raising a great furor.
She surely wouldn't do something like that here and now, but based on the way she was checking her robe and sash, she planned to do some serious dancing.
Looking at her, Lawrence couldn't help voicing what came to mind. "You should just take your wolf form and pull that sunken ship right out—"
It was not because Holo's happy expression suddenly vanished that Lawrence stopped talking; nor was it because he remembered that she wouldn't answer him.
Holo assuming her wolf form and pulling the wreck out of the river. It wasn't actually feasible, of course, but it was certainly within the realm of a forgivable joke.
It wasn't an awkward thing to say, really.
It wasn't that—it was that he really couldn't imagine Holo assuming her wolf form for just anyone.
As to why that was, the answer came to Lawrence immediately.
And that answer led him to another conclusion with startling speed.
Holo's once expressionless face now looked down on Lawrence with an exasperated smile; by contrast, Lawrence felt his own face grow sober. The reason Holo had been angry—he finally understood it.
"Honestly...," said Holo, looking around briefly before coming down to him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sat lightly upon him.
As a man, it was a pleasant sensation for Lawrence, but given that she was doing this, she must have been truly angry enough to want to ignore him.
"One can flatter a pig right up a tree, but flattering a male just makes him lose himself. Didn't I say as much?" Holo half whispered into Lawrence's ear, their cheeks close enough to touch—but Lawrence knew full well her eyes were narrowed and sharp.
And the fact that Holo had looked around before coming to him was not because she didn't want anyone to see her like this. It was quite the opposite.
At the end of his gaze, Lawrence saw Ragusa covering Col's eyes as the boy squirmed to get away, Ragusa laughing hugely.
His boatmen friends were watching too, of course, grinning as the sight made a pleasant side dish to go with their liquor.
It wasn't so much embarrassing as it was simply awkward.
"If our positions were reversed, you would surely have been just as angry. Am I wrong?"
Her resentful tone made Lawrence fear she'd bite his ear clean off.
But that was not what he was truly afraid of.
Holo did not kill her prey quickly—she preferred to toy with it for a while before ending its life.
"Hmph." She unwrapped her arms from around his neck, sat up, then looked down at Lawrence and spoke, baring her fangs. "Will you now show me how sincere you are?"
When she poked the tip of his nose with her finger, he did not resist.
Holo grinned, then stood up and spun about like a whirl of wind.
All that was left behind was the warmth of her body and her somehow sweet scent.
Her smile did not remain in his memory.
After all, as the one who held the coin purse, that was a very dangerous smile indeed.
"Sincerity?" Lawrence muttered to himself, taking a drink of liquor.
It had been when he was trying to get her to consider the copper coin puzzle with him.
Holo was very clever, and her abilities to jibe at Lawrence, laugh at him, and make him laugh were excellent. Her mind was so sharp it could fairly be described as "mysterious"; it had saved him more than once.
So he thought she would enjoy the challenge.
But that hadn't been the case.
Ragusa had told Lawrence, "The river does indeed flow. But—why does it flow?"
| Boatmen rode upon the river's currents as they plied their trade. And those currents never ceased. But the boatmen did not take that flow for granted. They were always grateful to the river, even tearful at the deep generosity of the river spirit.
When Holo got angry, what Lawrence was guilty of was not trusting her enough. But taking her dependability as a given suggested that it was becoming less important, and he would eventually come to overlook it.
Suppose one's lover wrote him frequent love letters. If he asked her to write his reply for her, because she seemed to enjoy writing letters so much, he'd earn her wrath, and rightly so.
In other words, Holo had wanted to tell Lawrence that just because she put her wisdom to work solving his problems did not mean that she loved solving problems.
It was obvious if he thought about it.
While it was rather doubtful that Holo would bring her wisdom to bear for Lawrence's sake alone, at the very least, she would be angry with him if he didn't think so.
Lawrence fell back on the spot.
He had just been educated by Holo.
That was what made her smile so terrifying.
"Sincerity enough to balance this out...?" Lawrence sat back up and took another drink. "I haven't got it on hand!"
He exhaled a liquor-reeking breath, then looked at Holo, who was dancing in front of the fire.
As she waved her arms about in the happy dance, she didn't so much as glance at Lawrence.
He was already afraid of what she would make him buy her.
Holo joined hands with the dancing girl she had been talking to earlier on the riverbank, and the two danced with perfect footwork, as though they had practiced ahead of time. The sounds of flute playing and applause rewarded them.
As if conceding defeat to their display, the flaming pile of rags and wooden debris collapsed in on itself, blowing a shower of sparks into the air, like the sigh of a demon.
Lawrence could see a faint smile on Holo's feverish, serious face, and her dance had a somehow unsettling quality to it. Part of it was that she was simply that attractive, but she also seemed as though she were trying to forget something.
Since long ago, festivals had been celebrated to mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next and to quiet the anger of gods and spirits. Lawrence wondered if Holo's appearance was due to that feeling, but then as he was moving to take another drink, his hand froze.
He had realized earlier the reality that most of the things Holo did, she did for him.
Did that possibly apply to things outside of helping him think through puzzles and other such difficulties?
"Surely not—"
Holo danced with endless gaiety, seemingly unable to think about anything else—suddenly she seemed very small.
If Lawrence's guess was correct, her anger was over a foolish thing indeed.
If he was so much slower than her that he couldn't keep up, then it could also be said that she was running ahead on her own and meddling with things.
He drank, and the harsh liquor burned his throat.
Lawrence stood but not to join in the dancing circle.
To put it in his own stubborn words, he stood to collect information for Holo.
In Ragusa's circle, Col had already collapsed and lay faceup.
Lawrence walked toward them, giving a light wave, which Ragusa acknowledged with a lift of his cup.
Holo was a fool.
He wanted to prove it.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha! The mountains of Roef?"
"Ho, it's a lovely place. I bring fine lumber out of it every year! Wood that came down this very river went to a kingdom in the far south, to produce a...urp...grand table for the palace. What say you to that, my young traveling merchant?" said the boatman, heartily pouring wine from his own wineskin into the cask Lawrence held.
The cask wasn't a barrel, so it was hardly possible to pour into it, and both the boatman holding the wineskin and Lawrence were rather unsteady of hand.
More and more of the wine spilled out of the cask, falling like a waterfall to the ground.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Boatmen rode upon the river's currents as they plied their trade. And those currents never ceased. But the boatmen did not take that flow for granted. They were always grateful to the river, even tearful at the deep generosity of the river spirit.
When Holo got angry, what Lawrence was guilty of was not trusting her enough. But taking her dependability as a given suggested that it was becoming less important, and he would eventually come to overlook it.
Suppose one's lover wrote him frequent love letters. If he asked her to write his reply for her, because she seemed to enjoy writing letters so much, he'd earn her wrath, and rightly so.
In other words, Holo had wanted to tell Lawrence that just because she put her wisdom to work solving his problems did not mean that she loved solving problems.
It was obvious if he thought about it.
While it was rather doubtful that Holo would bring her wisdom to bear for Lawrence's sake alone, at the very least, she would be angry with him if he didn't think so.
Lawrence fell back on the spot.
He had just been educated by Holo.
That was what made her smile so terrifying.
"Sincerity enough to balance this out...?" Lawrence sat back up and took another drink. "I haven't got it on hand!"
He exhaled a liquor-reeking breath, then looked at Holo, who was dancing in front of the fire.
As she waved her arms about in the happy dance, she didn't so much as glance at Lawrence.
He was already afraid of what she would make him buy her.
Holo joined hands with the dancing girl she had been talking to earlier on the riverbank, and the two danced with perfect footwork, as though they had practiced ahead of time. The sounds of flute playing and applause rewarded them.
As if conceding defeat to their display, the flaming pile of rags and wooden debris collapsed in on itself, blowing a shower of sparks into the air, like the sigh of a demon.
Lawrence could see a faint smile on Holo's feverish, serious face, and her dance had a somehow unsettling quality to it. Part of it was that she was simply that attractive, but she also seemed as though she were trying to forget something.
Since long ago, festivals had been celebrated to mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next and to quiet the anger of gods and spirits. Lawrence wondered if Holo's appearance was due to that feeling, but then as he was moving to take another drink, his hand froze.
He had realized earlier the reality that most of the things Holo did, she did for him.
Did that possibly apply to things outside of helping him think through puzzles and other such difficulties?
"Surely not—"
Holo danced with endless gaiety, seemingly unable to think about anything else—suddenly she seemed very small.
If Lawrence's guess was correct, her anger was over a foolish thing indeed.
If he was so much slower than her that he couldn't keep up, then it could also be said that she was running ahead on her own and meddling with things.
He drank, and the harsh liquor burned his throat.
Lawrence stood but not to join in the dancing circle.
To put it in his own stubborn words, he stood to collect information for Holo.
In Ragusa's circle, Col had already collapsed and lay faceup.
Lawrence walked toward them, giving a light wave, which Ragusa acknowledged with a lift of his cup.
Holo was a fool.
He wanted to prove it.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha! The mountains of Roef?"
"Ho, it's a lovely place. I bring fine lumber out of it every year! Wood that came down this very river went to a kingdom in the far south, to produce a...urp...grand table for the palace. What say you to that, my young traveling merchant?" said the boatman, heartily pouring wine from his own wineskin into the cask Lawrence held.
The cask wasn't a barrel, so it was hardly possible to pour into it, and both the boatman holding the wineskin and Lawrence were rather unsteady of hand.
More and more of the wine spilled out of the cask, falling like a waterfall to the ground.
| "Well, in that case, you should write this on the side of the lumber: 'Your damn taxes are too high!'" said Lawrence loudly, bringing the cask to his mouth to take a drink when the boatman slapped him carelessly on the back, causing the wine to miss his mouth and go falling to the ground.
"Ah, yes! Right you are, m'boy."
Somewhere in the back of Lawrence's mind, he realized half-ruefully, half-proudly that not even Holo had ever gotten this drunk.
"So then, what of Roef?" Lawrence asked.
"Roef? I've taken fine lumber from the place...," began the boatman, repeating himself—but then he collapsed on the spot.
"What a lightweight," said one of his comrades, more disgusted than worried.
Lawrence grinned and looked around at the faces of the other men. "So, will you talk to me now?"
"Ha-ha-ha! I reckon we promised, so there's nothing to be done about it now. We'll let Zonal settle this one up," said a heavy-drinking boatman, smiling as he poked the head of his fallen comrade.
The boatman named Zonal was already passed out.
"Truly, though, to think you'd be this strong from dealing with a girl like that—"
"Aye, aye! Still, we must...we must keep our promises!"
"Aye, 'tis sho..."
"So you wanted to know of Roef?"
The last one to speak was Ragusa, who was evidently able to hold his liquor—his face was barely red.
The rest of them were, like Lawrence, a bit unsteady on their feet.
Lawrence himself was not entirely confident in his ability to remain conscious.
"Ah...yes, either that or a place called Yoitsu..."
"I've not heard of this Yoitsu. But Roef's hardly worth asking about—you just head back up this river. The Roef River joins up with it, and you just follow that all the way in."
I'm not asking about such trifling details, Lawrence thought to himself, but when he tried to remember what he was asking about, he couldn't remember.
He was drunk.
But Roef was the first clue he needed to follow.
"Can you not tell me something more...interesting?"
"Interesting, eh?" Ragusa rubbed his beard and looked over to his fellow boatmen, but to a man they seemed to be nodding off, succumbing to the alcohol. "Ah, I have it," he said, twisting his beard, then walking over to his fallen boatman comrade and shaking the man's shoulder violently.
"Hey you. Wake up! You said you took a strange job recently, didn't you?"
"Mnngh...uuh...can't hold any more..."
"Idiot! Hey! You brought it out of Lesko on the Roef headwaters, didn't you?"
The boatman named Zonal had been deliberately drinking with Lawrence, and he'd apparently been caught in an affair and had his head soundly cracked by his wife in revenge.
Lawrence himself was not unworried about what might happen if he was to fool around with another girl and Holo discovered it.
"Lesko? Ah, yes, 'tis a good town. Time after time, I brought copper out of the mountains there...It flowed out like water. Oh, and the liquor there's first-rate. How c'n I put it...? They've got dozens of machines there that bring the strongest liquor out of the thinnest wine. Oh, my copper-skinned bride! The blessings of fire and water be upon your shining skin!" called out Zonal before falling motionless again, his eyes closed. It was by no means clear whether he was awake or asleep.
Ragusa gave the man's shoulder another rough shake, but Zonal was by now a jellyfish tossed upon the waves.
"Worthless!"
"'Copper-skinned bride,' he said...Did he mean a still?"
"Mm? Oh, aye! You're quite knowledgeable. I've carried them as cargo a few times. The liquor you're drinking was probably distilled in a Lesko still."
Made from skillfully beaten sheets of copper, a still would certainly have an appealing red shine to it. And it was often said that those who shaped the curved copper pieces had the female form in mind when they did so, so Lawrence understood Zonal's ramblings.
"Mm, this is no good. He won't awaken 'til morning."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Well, in that case, you should write this on the side of the lumber: 'Your damn taxes are too high!'" said Lawrence loudly, bringing the cask to his mouth to take a drink when the boatman slapped him carelessly on the back, causing the wine to miss his mouth and go falling to the ground.
"Ah, yes! Right you are, m'boy."
Somewhere in the back of Lawrence's mind, he realized half-ruefully, half-proudly that not even Holo had ever gotten this drunk.
"So then, what of Roef?" Lawrence asked.
"Roef? I've taken fine lumber from the place...," began the boatman, repeating himself—but then he collapsed on the spot.
"What a lightweight," said one of his comrades, more disgusted than worried.
Lawrence grinned and looked around at the faces of the other men. "So, will you talk to me now?"
"Ha-ha-ha! I reckon we promised, so there's nothing to be done about it now. We'll let Zonal settle this one up," said a heavy-drinking boatman, smiling as he poked the head of his fallen comrade.
The boatman named Zonal was already passed out.
"Truly, though, to think you'd be this strong from dealing with a girl like that—"
"Aye, aye! Still, we must...we must keep our promises!"
"Aye, 'tis sho..."
"So you wanted to know of Roef?"
The last one to speak was Ragusa, who was evidently able to hold his liquor—his face was barely red.
The rest of them were, like Lawrence, a bit unsteady on their feet.
Lawrence himself was not entirely confident in his ability to remain conscious.
"Ah...yes, either that or a place called Yoitsu..."
"I've not heard of this Yoitsu. But Roef's hardly worth asking about—you just head back up this river. The Roef River joins up with it, and you just follow that all the way in."
I'm not asking about such trifling details, Lawrence thought to himself, but when he tried to remember what he was asking about, he couldn't remember.
He was drunk.
But Roef was the first clue he needed to follow.
"Can you not tell me something more...interesting?"
"Interesting, eh?" Ragusa rubbed his beard and looked over to his fellow boatmen, but to a man they seemed to be nodding off, succumbing to the alcohol. "Ah, I have it," he said, twisting his beard, then walking over to his fallen boatman comrade and shaking the man's shoulder violently.
"Hey you. Wake up! You said you took a strange job recently, didn't you?"
"Mnngh...uuh...can't hold any more..."
"Idiot! Hey! You brought it out of Lesko on the Roef headwaters, didn't you?"
The boatman named Zonal had been deliberately drinking with Lawrence, and he'd apparently been caught in an affair and had his head soundly cracked by his wife in revenge.
Lawrence himself was not unworried about what might happen if he was to fool around with another girl and Holo discovered it.
"Lesko? Ah, yes, 'tis a good town. Time after time, I brought copper out of the mountains there...It flowed out like water. Oh, and the liquor there's first-rate. How c'n I put it...? They've got dozens of machines there that bring the strongest liquor out of the thinnest wine. Oh, my copper-skinned bride! The blessings of fire and water be upon your shining skin!" called out Zonal before falling motionless again, his eyes closed. It was by no means clear whether he was awake or asleep.
Ragusa gave the man's shoulder another rough shake, but Zonal was by now a jellyfish tossed upon the waves.
"Worthless!"
"'Copper-skinned bride,' he said...Did he mean a still?"
"Mm? Oh, aye! You're quite knowledgeable. I've carried them as cargo a few times. The liquor you're drinking was probably distilled in a Lesko still."
Made from skillfully beaten sheets of copper, a still would certainly have an appealing red shine to it. And it was often said that those who shaped the curved copper pieces had the female form in mind when they did so, so Lawrence understood Zonal's ramblings.
"Mm, this is no good. He won't awaken 'til morning."
| It occurred to him to wonder if Holo was all right, and when he looked around, a sight terrible enough to snap him out of his drunkenness in an instant greeted him at the end of his shaky vision.
"Yes, a strange job...hmm? Ha-ha-ha! She has a catlike quickness about her—it quite suits her, don't you think?"
Ragusa's laugh was directed at Holo, whose dancing figure had elicited a great cry of delight from the crowd.
She had shed her heavy robe, and her tail waved silkily about as she spun and danced, hands joined with the dancing girl.
On her head was the skin of what might have been a flying squirrel or some small animal, and at first glance, it looked as though she was flaunting both her ears and tail.
Lawrence was speechless at Holo's recklessness, but nobody else seemed to be concerned.
When he looked more carefully, he saw that the dancing girl, too, had a fox fur wrapped around her as an improvised tail, as well as a squirrel skin tied about her head.
While Lawrence couldn't help but marvel at Holo's nerve, he also couldn't rule out the possibility that his judgment had been dulled by the liquor.
Even as he worried about what would happen if she was found out, she seemed truly joyful as she danced.
And her long waves of hair and soft, fluffy tail caused something to stir within Lawrence's chest, like some mysterious sorcery.
"So, yes, about that strange job."
Lawrence snapped out of his dream at Ragusa's words.
Somewhere along the line, the question Holo had asked of him in Lenos—"Which is more important, me or profit?"—was becoming less and less difficult to solve.
What did it mean that he tried to excuse that thought away by telling himself that it was just the liquor?
Either way, Lawrence lightly hit his fog-filled head and turned his attention to what Ragusa was saying.
"He'd been carrying money orders for the same company over and over. That's the other reason I was interested in what you were talking about—I was afraid that old Zonal had gotten himself mixed up in some kind of strange dealings. And that company is the supplier for those copper coins. I don't have courage enough for such things."
Because places that imported and exported copper coins had to be close with the area's political power, there weren't many.
While a town might prosper thanks to a copper mine, in places where the whole of the town's fortune depended on that mine, the merchants and rulers of the area would be forced to collude.
Ragusa's voice was lowered; he wasn't saying anything good about the very same merchants who gave him work.
He must have seen a good deal of corruption already.
Lawrence's vision and speech were blurred, but on this topic, his mind was entirely clear.
"But...still, wouldn't that be...the sort of letter you'd leave to the butcher?"
Butchers were often given letters to deliver, since they made their rounds among local farmers to buy pigs or sheep nearly every day.
Boatmen went up and down the Roam River.
It wasn't strange that they would be given a coin order to deliver.
"Well, when he delivered a money order to the Jean Company in Kerube that he'd picked up in Lesko, he was apparently given a certificate of refusal."
"A certificate of refusal?"
Instead of sending a sackful of jingling coins, there would be a piece of paper that said to please pay so-and-so a certain amount of money at a certain place. The paper and the system behind it was known as a money order, but a refusal certificate meant somebody didn't want to turn the order into coin as requested.
But what was strange was the idea that anyone would send the same money order day after day when it was being rejected.
"Strange, isn't it? He was given money orders time and again, only to have them rejected every time. Someone is definitely up to something."
"...There...there may be some kind of circumstance..."
"Circumstance?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It occurred to him to wonder if Holo was all right, and when he looked around, a sight terrible enough to snap him out of his drunkenness in an instant greeted him at the end of his shaky vision.
"Yes, a strange job...hmm? Ha-ha-ha! She has a catlike quickness about her—it quite suits her, don't you think?"
Ragusa's laugh was directed at Holo, whose dancing figure had elicited a great cry of delight from the crowd.
She had shed her heavy robe, and her tail waved silkily about as she spun and danced, hands joined with the dancing girl.
On her head was the skin of what might have been a flying squirrel or some small animal, and at first glance, it looked as though she was flaunting both her ears and tail.
Lawrence was speechless at Holo's recklessness, but nobody else seemed to be concerned.
When he looked more carefully, he saw that the dancing girl, too, had a fox fur wrapped around her as an improvised tail, as well as a squirrel skin tied about her head.
While Lawrence couldn't help but marvel at Holo's nerve, he also couldn't rule out the possibility that his judgment had been dulled by the liquor.
Even as he worried about what would happen if she was found out, she seemed truly joyful as she danced.
And her long waves of hair and soft, fluffy tail caused something to stir within Lawrence's chest, like some mysterious sorcery.
"So, yes, about that strange job."
Lawrence snapped out of his dream at Ragusa's words.
Somewhere along the line, the question Holo had asked of him in Lenos—"Which is more important, me or profit?"—was becoming less and less difficult to solve.
What did it mean that he tried to excuse that thought away by telling himself that it was just the liquor?
Either way, Lawrence lightly hit his fog-filled head and turned his attention to what Ragusa was saying.
"He'd been carrying money orders for the same company over and over. That's the other reason I was interested in what you were talking about—I was afraid that old Zonal had gotten himself mixed up in some kind of strange dealings. And that company is the supplier for those copper coins. I don't have courage enough for such things."
Because places that imported and exported copper coins had to be close with the area's political power, there weren't many.
While a town might prosper thanks to a copper mine, in places where the whole of the town's fortune depended on that mine, the merchants and rulers of the area would be forced to collude.
Ragusa's voice was lowered; he wasn't saying anything good about the very same merchants who gave him work.
He must have seen a good deal of corruption already.
Lawrence's vision and speech were blurred, but on this topic, his mind was entirely clear.
"But...still, wouldn't that be...the sort of letter you'd leave to the butcher?"
Butchers were often given letters to deliver, since they made their rounds among local farmers to buy pigs or sheep nearly every day.
Boatmen went up and down the Roam River.
It wasn't strange that they would be given a coin order to deliver.
"Well, when he delivered a money order to the Jean Company in Kerube that he'd picked up in Lesko, he was apparently given a certificate of refusal."
"A certificate of refusal?"
Instead of sending a sackful of jingling coins, there would be a piece of paper that said to please pay so-and-so a certain amount of money at a certain place. The paper and the system behind it was known as a money order, but a refusal certificate meant somebody didn't want to turn the order into coin as requested.
But what was strange was the idea that anyone would send the same money order day after day when it was being rejected.
"Strange, isn't it? He was given money orders time and again, only to have them rejected every time. Someone is definitely up to something."
"...There...there may be some kind of circumstance..."
"Circumstance?"
| Ragusa's eyes were serious.
As long as he had money, a traveling merchant could go where he wished and buy whatever goods he liked, then go and sell them anywhere else—from a certain perspective, such a man was free.
By contrast, the livelihoods of Ragusa and his cohorts were tied to a single river.
If they angered a shipper, even the deepest, widest river might as well have dried up entirely.
Their weak position meant they were taken advantage of, involved in strange schemes only to be sunk outright.
Trading that involved boats was more enjoyable, but a horse and wagon could go wherever its driver pleased.
"So there's no need to...worry..." Lawrence's head slumped, and he yawned hugely.
Ragusa regarded Lawrence dubiously, then gave a deep sigh. "Hmph. The world is filled with vexing things."
"While it may be that ignorance is a sin...it's impossible to know everything."
Unable to bear the weight of his own eyelids, Lawrence's eyes grew narrower and narrower.
All that he could see now was Ragusa's cross-legged form, and Lawrence wondered if he would soon be at his limit.
"True enough. Hah. I watched the boy's clumsiness with a smile, but now I see I'm not so different myself. Unlike us, he was deceived by a cheap stack of paper, but in the right place, he'd be wiser than either of us, would he not?" said Ragusa, ruffling the passed-out Col's hair.
There was real regret in Ragusa's eyes, as though if Col had truly been unable to pay the boat fare, Ragusa would have used that to keep him on board.
"Church...law, was it?"
"Eh? Oh, yes...so he said."
"And what a vexing thing to study. If he'd work with me, he wouldn't have to study that. Plus he'd get three...no, two meals a day."
Lawrence found himself smiling at Ragusa's honesty.
With physical labor, you only got three meals a day when you were full-fledged.
"He seems to have a goal," said Lawrence, and Ragusa threw him a glance.
"Come now...did you try to steal a march on me, tempting him away while you were walking?"
His anger seemed genuine, which was proof of how highly Ragusa thought of Col.
It was hardly strange for a man of Ragusa's age to be looking for an apprentice to train to inherit his vessel. If Lawrence himself had been a bit older, he would have happily stooped to dirty tricks to ensure Col stayed with him.
"I did no such thing. I did confirm the strength of his will, though."
"Mmph." Ragusa folded his arms and grunted through his nose.
"All we can do is...try...try to leave him with a small debt of gratitude, I expect," said Lawrence through a hiccup, which the unyielding boatman laughed at grandly in the manner of his kind.
"Bwa-ha-ha! I reckon so. What shall I do? If the boy solves the copper coin puzzle, his ticket will be worth something."
"That's what he intended."
"How about it, won't you toss out a clue?" Ragusa leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially, but Lawrence only slumped over.
"Unfortunately I can't. And even if I could...he'll owe me, too, so that will settle everything."
For his part, Lawrence was compelled by the temptation to keep Col on hand, if he could.
But while he'd genuinely felt that way walking down the road with Col earlier, now he wasn't quite so sure.
It was yet early for him to be taking an apprentice, and now was not the time.
Just because he had been forced into making the preparations didn't mean he could simply hold out his hands in welcome.
Lawrence smiled ruefully to himself.
"True enough. Three chests of copper is a big difference. The only way to move a load that heavy is over water. And if it goes that way, there's no way I won't hear of it. Either that, or what's written on that paper is just wrong."
Ragusa's voice was becoming more and more slurred.
Even his huge body was beginning to succumb to drunkenness.
"That's true...I suppose. There's a story of one letter's mistake turning eel to gold coin and causing a huge uproar."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Ragusa's eyes were serious.
As long as he had money, a traveling merchant could go where he wished and buy whatever goods he liked, then go and sell them anywhere else—from a certain perspective, such a man was free.
By contrast, the livelihoods of Ragusa and his cohorts were tied to a single river.
If they angered a shipper, even the deepest, widest river might as well have dried up entirely.
Their weak position meant they were taken advantage of, involved in strange schemes only to be sunk outright.
Trading that involved boats was more enjoyable, but a horse and wagon could go wherever its driver pleased.
"So there's no need to...worry..." Lawrence's head slumped, and he yawned hugely.
Ragusa regarded Lawrence dubiously, then gave a deep sigh. "Hmph. The world is filled with vexing things."
"While it may be that ignorance is a sin...it's impossible to know everything."
Unable to bear the weight of his own eyelids, Lawrence's eyes grew narrower and narrower.
All that he could see now was Ragusa's cross-legged form, and Lawrence wondered if he would soon be at his limit.
"True enough. Hah. I watched the boy's clumsiness with a smile, but now I see I'm not so different myself. Unlike us, he was deceived by a cheap stack of paper, but in the right place, he'd be wiser than either of us, would he not?" said Ragusa, ruffling the passed-out Col's hair.
There was real regret in Ragusa's eyes, as though if Col had truly been unable to pay the boat fare, Ragusa would have used that to keep him on board.
"Church...law, was it?"
"Eh? Oh, yes...so he said."
"And what a vexing thing to study. If he'd work with me, he wouldn't have to study that. Plus he'd get three...no, two meals a day."
Lawrence found himself smiling at Ragusa's honesty.
With physical labor, you only got three meals a day when you were full-fledged.
"He seems to have a goal," said Lawrence, and Ragusa threw him a glance.
"Come now...did you try to steal a march on me, tempting him away while you were walking?"
His anger seemed genuine, which was proof of how highly Ragusa thought of Col.
It was hardly strange for a man of Ragusa's age to be looking for an apprentice to train to inherit his vessel. If Lawrence himself had been a bit older, he would have happily stooped to dirty tricks to ensure Col stayed with him.
"I did no such thing. I did confirm the strength of his will, though."
"Mmph." Ragusa folded his arms and grunted through his nose.
"All we can do is...try...try to leave him with a small debt of gratitude, I expect," said Lawrence through a hiccup, which the unyielding boatman laughed at grandly in the manner of his kind.
"Bwa-ha-ha! I reckon so. What shall I do? If the boy solves the copper coin puzzle, his ticket will be worth something."
"That's what he intended."
"How about it, won't you toss out a clue?" Ragusa leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially, but Lawrence only slumped over.
"Unfortunately I can't. And even if I could...he'll owe me, too, so that will settle everything."
For his part, Lawrence was compelled by the temptation to keep Col on hand, if he could.
But while he'd genuinely felt that way walking down the road with Col earlier, now he wasn't quite so sure.
It was yet early for him to be taking an apprentice, and now was not the time.
Just because he had been forced into making the preparations didn't mean he could simply hold out his hands in welcome.
Lawrence smiled ruefully to himself.
"True enough. Three chests of copper is a big difference. The only way to move a load that heavy is over water. And if it goes that way, there's no way I won't hear of it. Either that, or what's written on that paper is just wrong."
Ragusa's voice was becoming more and more slurred.
Even his huge body was beginning to succumb to drunkenness.
"That's true...I suppose. There's a story of one letter's mistake turning eel to gold coin and causing a huge uproar."
| "Huh...?" Lawrence was at his limit, and it felt as though his body and consciousness were farther and farther apart.
He thought he was looking toward Ragusa, but his vision was black.
He heard words as though from a great distance.
Roef. Headwaters. Lesko.
And then he thought he heard something about the bones of a hellhound.
That couldn't be right.
If he was entertaining such notions, it had to be in a dream, he thought.
Or some kind of fairy tale.
But then, the thought that a fairy tale–like thing had indeed become very familiar rose up and enveloped him within the darkness of deep sleep.
***
There was a sweetish charred scent.
Perhaps honey bread was burning.
If so, the baker responsible was making a fool of himself.
But Lawrence soon realized the smell wasn't food being overcooked.
He remembered the smell, along with the fire.
It was the scent of an animal.
"...Mmph."
When he opened his eyes, he saw the starry night sky above him.
A beautiful gibbous moon hung in the sky, and Lawrence felt as if he were lying underwater.
It seemed that some kind soul had put a blanket over him, and although he was fortunately not shivering from cold, his body was strangely heavy.
Wondering if it was the residual effects of the liquor, he tried to sit up—which was when he noticed.
He raised his head and peeled back the blanket.
There was Holo, sleeping comfortably, soot smudged on her forehead and cheek.
"Ah, so it was this..."
She seemed to have had quite a good time.
Her beautiful bangs had been slightly singed, and as she breathed, her breath carried the burnt smell to Lawrence's nose. Added to that was Holo's own sweet scent along with the scent of her tail, and Lawrence realized that was what he had smelled in his dream.
The sleeping Holo did not have her robe on, and her ears were exposed.
The squirrel fur had indeed fallen right next to her head, so Lawrence could see that Holo had made a vague attempt to hide her ears.
Since they weren't surrounded by adherents of the Church pointing spears at them, it seemed unlikely that Holo's secret had been discovered; Lawrence let his head fall back as he sighed.
He then took his hand off the blanket and rested it on her head.
Her ears twitched, and her even breathing stopped.
She then shivered as though sneezing and curled up more tightly.
Her arms and legs fidgeted around, and finally her face moved as she rested her chin on Lawrence's chest, then sat up.
The eyes that stared at him from under the blanket were still glazed, as though half-asleep.
"You're heavy," said Lawrence, at which Holo covered her face again and shivered. She seemed to be yawning, but her fingernails on Lawrence's chest were proof enough that she was awake.
Eventually she raised her head. "What's the matter?"
"You're heavy."
"Nay, my body is quite light. Something else must be weighing upon you."
"Shall I say then that your feelings are heavy?"
"That makes it seem like I am some sort of uninvited guest." Holo chuckled throatily, resting her cheek against Lawrence's chest.
"Honestly...So, I assume you weren't found out?"
"About whose bedroom I share, you mean?"
Lawrence murmured to himself that he wished she would be honest and say "bed."
"No, I was not found out. Everyone was too roused to notice. Heh—you should have come yourself."
"I can imagine it, more or less...but I'd rather not get burned." Lawrence fingered Holo's singed bangs, and Holo closed her eyes ticklishly. They would probably need to be trimmed back.
Before he could admonish her for excessive merrymaking, Holo spoke. "I heard much of the northlands from the traveling girl. Apparently they just finished working in Nyohhira. To hear her tell it, it hasn't changed much from the old days."
Holo opened her eyes and gazed at Lawrence's fingers, then nuzzled his chest like an affectionate cat.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Huh...?" Lawrence was at his limit, and it felt as though his body and consciousness were farther and farther apart.
He thought he was looking toward Ragusa, but his vision was black.
He heard words as though from a great distance.
Roef. Headwaters. Lesko.
And then he thought he heard something about the bones of a hellhound.
That couldn't be right.
If he was entertaining such notions, it had to be in a dream, he thought.
Or some kind of fairy tale.
But then, the thought that a fairy tale–like thing had indeed become very familiar rose up and enveloped him within the darkness of deep sleep.
***
There was a sweetish charred scent.
Perhaps honey bread was burning.
If so, the baker responsible was making a fool of himself.
But Lawrence soon realized the smell wasn't food being overcooked.
He remembered the smell, along with the fire.
It was the scent of an animal.
"...Mmph."
When he opened his eyes, he saw the starry night sky above him.
A beautiful gibbous moon hung in the sky, and Lawrence felt as if he were lying underwater.
It seemed that some kind soul had put a blanket over him, and although he was fortunately not shivering from cold, his body was strangely heavy.
Wondering if it was the residual effects of the liquor, he tried to sit up—which was when he noticed.
He raised his head and peeled back the blanket.
There was Holo, sleeping comfortably, soot smudged on her forehead and cheek.
"Ah, so it was this..."
She seemed to have had quite a good time.
Her beautiful bangs had been slightly singed, and as she breathed, her breath carried the burnt smell to Lawrence's nose. Added to that was Holo's own sweet scent along with the scent of her tail, and Lawrence realized that was what he had smelled in his dream.
The sleeping Holo did not have her robe on, and her ears were exposed.
The squirrel fur had indeed fallen right next to her head, so Lawrence could see that Holo had made a vague attempt to hide her ears.
Since they weren't surrounded by adherents of the Church pointing spears at them, it seemed unlikely that Holo's secret had been discovered; Lawrence let his head fall back as he sighed.
He then took his hand off the blanket and rested it on her head.
Her ears twitched, and her even breathing stopped.
She then shivered as though sneezing and curled up more tightly.
Her arms and legs fidgeted around, and finally her face moved as she rested her chin on Lawrence's chest, then sat up.
The eyes that stared at him from under the blanket were still glazed, as though half-asleep.
"You're heavy," said Lawrence, at which Holo covered her face again and shivered. She seemed to be yawning, but her fingernails on Lawrence's chest were proof enough that she was awake.
Eventually she raised her head. "What's the matter?"
"You're heavy."
"Nay, my body is quite light. Something else must be weighing upon you."
"Shall I say then that your feelings are heavy?"
"That makes it seem like I am some sort of uninvited guest." Holo chuckled throatily, resting her cheek against Lawrence's chest.
"Honestly...So, I assume you weren't found out?"
"About whose bedroom I share, you mean?"
Lawrence murmured to himself that he wished she would be honest and say "bed."
"No, I was not found out. Everyone was too roused to notice. Heh—you should have come yourself."
"I can imagine it, more or less...but I'd rather not get burned." Lawrence fingered Holo's singed bangs, and Holo closed her eyes ticklishly. They would probably need to be trimmed back.
Before he could admonish her for excessive merrymaking, Holo spoke. "I heard much of the northlands from the traveling girl. Apparently they just finished working in Nyohhira. To hear her tell it, it hasn't changed much from the old days."
Holo opened her eyes and gazed at Lawrence's fingers, then nuzzled his chest like an affectionate cat.
| "Always so stubborn," said Lawrence, and Holo curled up.
Just like a stubborn child.
"We have time to decide what to do, though. We're chasing Eve first, after all."
Holo's pointed ears were against Lawrence's chest, so she surely noticed his chuckle.
Digging into his chest with her fingernails, Holo sniffed her objection.
"Would you get off me? I'm thirsty." Lawrence had drunk a lot.
And he didn't know whether it was the middle of the night or just a few minutes until dawn.
Holo didn't move for a moment, and Lawrence wondered if she was being malicious, but at length, she shifted and moved.
Then, straddling him like she would a horse, she tilted her head back as though she was about to howl and yawned a great yawn.
It was a strangely captivating, untouchably divine sight, and Lawrence found himself fascinated by it.
Having satisfied her desire to bare her teeth at the moon, Holo sleepily smacked her lips a few times, then closed her mouth as she wiped the sleep from the corners of her eyes. She then smiled faintly as she looked down at Lawrence.
"Being on top does suit me, I must say."
"And I'm under you—literally, this time."
The fringes of Holo's ears were lit by the moonlight.
With their every movement, the moonbeams seemed to dance.
"I daresay, I'd like some water, myself...hmm? Where did my robe go?" Holo looked around, evidently not joking.
Lawrence choked back the words that came to mind—What do you think is wrapped around your waist?—and looked up at the night sky.
It was the dead of night. If this had been an abbey, the friars would have been awakening to chant the first prayers of the day.
Nonetheless, not everyone was asleep. Apart from the people curled up here and there like so many piles of cow dung, there was a circle of men sitting around the fire.
"Eyahri," said one of the men as he noticed Holo and raised his right hand in greeting.
Holo smiled, amused, and returned the wave.
"What's that about?" asked Lawrence.
"'Tis an old greeting. Apparently it's still in use around the vast mountains of Roef," Holo explained.
Since Lawrence was usually the one who was in a position to explain the world's customs, this made him realize just how far north they had actually come.
This was really Holo's territory now.
He remembered her profile as near the wheat fields, she had been overcome by the memories of the north to which she thought she would never return.
He wanted to put into words, to say it—You want to stop heading for Kerube, don't you?
But if he did, she would certainly turn angry.
After all, he didn't want her to speak those words, either.
"Ah, the boy's awake," declared Holo, interrupting Lawrence's uncharitable thoughts.
While everybody had more or less lay down and gone to sleep wherever they pleased, people seemed to be collected in a certain area—but off in one corner was a small form that seemed to be doing something.
To Lawrence's still liquor-blurred eyes, it looked like it might have been Holo.
Which meant it was Col.
"What's he doing?"
"Hmph. Looks to be writing something," said Holo.
Though he could make out the boy's outline in the moonlight, Lawrence couldn't see what Col's hands were doing—he could only see that he was looking down and doing something with what looked like a stick or branch.
Col might well have been studying with his free time.
"Anyway, water. My throat is burning."
"Mm."
Taking the water skin that Holo seemed to have gotten from somebody, Lawrence stood at the riverbank and untied its string.
It was empty, of course, and the drinking spout seemed to have been rather chewed up.
Lawrence looked at Holo, who avoided his gaze. Perhaps she liked to chew on things and had simply hid it from him thus far.
Perhaps she was worried about seeming animalistic.
No—more likely it was that such a childish habit was not something a proper wisewolf would indulge in.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Always so stubborn," said Lawrence, and Holo curled up.
Just like a stubborn child.
"We have time to decide what to do, though. We're chasing Eve first, after all."
Holo's pointed ears were against Lawrence's chest, so she surely noticed his chuckle.
Digging into his chest with her fingernails, Holo sniffed her objection.
"Would you get off me? I'm thirsty." Lawrence had drunk a lot.
And he didn't know whether it was the middle of the night or just a few minutes until dawn.
Holo didn't move for a moment, and Lawrence wondered if she was being malicious, but at length, she shifted and moved.
Then, straddling him like she would a horse, she tilted her head back as though she was about to howl and yawned a great yawn.
It was a strangely captivating, untouchably divine sight, and Lawrence found himself fascinated by it.
Having satisfied her desire to bare her teeth at the moon, Holo sleepily smacked her lips a few times, then closed her mouth as she wiped the sleep from the corners of her eyes. She then smiled faintly as she looked down at Lawrence.
"Being on top does suit me, I must say."
"And I'm under you—literally, this time."
The fringes of Holo's ears were lit by the moonlight.
With their every movement, the moonbeams seemed to dance.
"I daresay, I'd like some water, myself...hmm? Where did my robe go?" Holo looked around, evidently not joking.
Lawrence choked back the words that came to mind—What do you think is wrapped around your waist?—and looked up at the night sky.
It was the dead of night. If this had been an abbey, the friars would have been awakening to chant the first prayers of the day.
Nonetheless, not everyone was asleep. Apart from the people curled up here and there like so many piles of cow dung, there was a circle of men sitting around the fire.
"Eyahri," said one of the men as he noticed Holo and raised his right hand in greeting.
Holo smiled, amused, and returned the wave.
"What's that about?" asked Lawrence.
"'Tis an old greeting. Apparently it's still in use around the vast mountains of Roef," Holo explained.
Since Lawrence was usually the one who was in a position to explain the world's customs, this made him realize just how far north they had actually come.
This was really Holo's territory now.
He remembered her profile as near the wheat fields, she had been overcome by the memories of the north to which she thought she would never return.
He wanted to put into words, to say it—You want to stop heading for Kerube, don't you?
But if he did, she would certainly turn angry.
After all, he didn't want her to speak those words, either.
"Ah, the boy's awake," declared Holo, interrupting Lawrence's uncharitable thoughts.
While everybody had more or less lay down and gone to sleep wherever they pleased, people seemed to be collected in a certain area—but off in one corner was a small form that seemed to be doing something.
To Lawrence's still liquor-blurred eyes, it looked like it might have been Holo.
Which meant it was Col.
"What's he doing?"
"Hmph. Looks to be writing something," said Holo.
Though he could make out the boy's outline in the moonlight, Lawrence couldn't see what Col's hands were doing—he could only see that he was looking down and doing something with what looked like a stick or branch.
Col might well have been studying with his free time.
"Anyway, water. My throat is burning."
"Mm."
Taking the water skin that Holo seemed to have gotten from somebody, Lawrence stood at the riverbank and untied its string.
It was empty, of course, and the drinking spout seemed to have been rather chewed up.
Lawrence looked at Holo, who avoided his gaze. Perhaps she liked to chew on things and had simply hid it from him thus far.
Perhaps she was worried about seeming animalistic.
No—more likely it was that such a childish habit was not something a proper wisewolf would indulge in.
| "Guh..." He filled his mouth with the painfully cold water.
Lawrence could drink any amount of water after drinking so much wine.
"Come, give it here," said Holo, snatching the water skin away and drinking from it—then coughing, which was only as much as she deserved.
"So, did you hear any interesting talk?" asked Lawrence, patting Holo's back as she coughed and realizing that her movements were a bit exaggerated. If you want me to pay attention to you, just ask, he thought—but did not point out her lie.
"Kuh...whew...Interesting talk, you say?"
"You said you heard about Nyohhira, didn't you?"
"Mm. Nobody knew the name of Yoitsu, but many had heard of the Moon-Hunting Bear."
Since even Lawrence had heard stories of the great bear spirit, it would be stranger if people in this region did not know the tales.
It was a bear spirit whose tales had been passed down over the centuries—perhaps even the millennia.
Lawrence hesitated momentarily but eventually spoke his mind.
If Holo became angry, he would blame it on the wine.
"Does that make you jealous, I suppose?" When it came to the question of whose name had been remembered, Holo was no match for the Moon-Hunting Bear.
Of course, back in the village of Pasloe, every child knew her name, but that was on a completely different scale than the Moon-Hunting Bear.
She might feel a certain amount of competition, having come from the same era.
Just as Lawrence was thinking that no, Holo would be above such pointlessness, she replied.
"Just who do you think I am?"
Her right hand held the water skin, and her left was on her hip, her chest thrust out.
She was Holo the Wisewolf.
Lawrence cursed himself for asking a stupid question, but just as he was about to say, "Ah, you're right," Holo slipped in another statement, cutting him off.
"I'm a late bloomer, after all. I'm only just getting started." She bared her fangs and smiled. She was shameless, indeed, to have lived so many centuries and yet claiming to be only getting started.
Before she was a wisewolf, Holo was Holo.
"I may have retreated from being worshipped, but 'twould be lovely indeed to have a thick book of tales recorded about me, of course."
"Ha-ha. Shall I write it, then?"
Many merchants took up the pen.
Not having learned the finer points of composition, their writing was not beautiful, but if someone on the verge of death had a fortune, they might well have a comrade take dictation for them.
"Hmph. Though if you were to do it, the travels with you would be the larger part."
"Well, yes."
"I can't have that now, can I?"
"Why not?" asked Lawrence, and Holo coughed.
"It might well end up being less of a book and more a litany of humiliations." Holo chuckled through her nose. "You're perfectly happy to lie—you'd embellish things that did and didn't happen, no doubt. What sort of book would you create?" Holo looked up.
It was clear from her face that she had gone beyond smiling and was now playing a foolish game.
Lawrence was a merchant.
Carefully estimating her thoughts, he spoke. "Are you trying to say I'd be as thick as the book I'd write?"
Holo laughed voicelessly, her shoulders shaking, and she smacked Lawrence's arm.
It was a foolish conversation.
"Anyway, all I heard tell of was Nyohhira. They don't often go into the mountains of Roef, they said. Apparently 'tis not so nice a place."
"Huh?" Lawrence asked.
Holo was still smiling, but there was a gaping hole behind that smile.
She was stubborn.
Whenever she seemed strangely cheerful, there was always something behind it.
But she continued speaking, as though she hadn't heard Lawrence's inquiry at all.
"There are more than twenty hot springs. The earth has cracks that vent steam, and it seems like the end of the world—just like it did in my time. The one annoying bit was that the spot that I'd found and only I knew about seems to have been discovered—even though it was a hot spring hidden in a canyon so narrow I had to take this form just to fit."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Guh..." He filled his mouth with the painfully cold water.
Lawrence could drink any amount of water after drinking so much wine.
"Come, give it here," said Holo, snatching the water skin away and drinking from it—then coughing, which was only as much as she deserved.
"So, did you hear any interesting talk?" asked Lawrence, patting Holo's back as she coughed and realizing that her movements were a bit exaggerated. If you want me to pay attention to you, just ask, he thought—but did not point out her lie.
"Kuh...whew...Interesting talk, you say?"
"You said you heard about Nyohhira, didn't you?"
"Mm. Nobody knew the name of Yoitsu, but many had heard of the Moon-Hunting Bear."
Since even Lawrence had heard stories of the great bear spirit, it would be stranger if people in this region did not know the tales.
It was a bear spirit whose tales had been passed down over the centuries—perhaps even the millennia.
Lawrence hesitated momentarily but eventually spoke his mind.
If Holo became angry, he would blame it on the wine.
"Does that make you jealous, I suppose?" When it came to the question of whose name had been remembered, Holo was no match for the Moon-Hunting Bear.
Of course, back in the village of Pasloe, every child knew her name, but that was on a completely different scale than the Moon-Hunting Bear.
She might feel a certain amount of competition, having come from the same era.
Just as Lawrence was thinking that no, Holo would be above such pointlessness, she replied.
"Just who do you think I am?"
Her right hand held the water skin, and her left was on her hip, her chest thrust out.
She was Holo the Wisewolf.
Lawrence cursed himself for asking a stupid question, but just as he was about to say, "Ah, you're right," Holo slipped in another statement, cutting him off.
"I'm a late bloomer, after all. I'm only just getting started." She bared her fangs and smiled. She was shameless, indeed, to have lived so many centuries and yet claiming to be only getting started.
Before she was a wisewolf, Holo was Holo.
"I may have retreated from being worshipped, but 'twould be lovely indeed to have a thick book of tales recorded about me, of course."
"Ha-ha. Shall I write it, then?"
Many merchants took up the pen.
Not having learned the finer points of composition, their writing was not beautiful, but if someone on the verge of death had a fortune, they might well have a comrade take dictation for them.
"Hmph. Though if you were to do it, the travels with you would be the larger part."
"Well, yes."
"I can't have that now, can I?"
"Why not?" asked Lawrence, and Holo coughed.
"It might well end up being less of a book and more a litany of humiliations." Holo chuckled through her nose. "You're perfectly happy to lie—you'd embellish things that did and didn't happen, no doubt. What sort of book would you create?" Holo looked up.
It was clear from her face that she had gone beyond smiling and was now playing a foolish game.
Lawrence was a merchant.
Carefully estimating her thoughts, he spoke. "Are you trying to say I'd be as thick as the book I'd write?"
Holo laughed voicelessly, her shoulders shaking, and she smacked Lawrence's arm.
It was a foolish conversation.
"Anyway, all I heard tell of was Nyohhira. They don't often go into the mountains of Roef, they said. Apparently 'tis not so nice a place."
"Huh?" Lawrence asked.
Holo was still smiling, but there was a gaping hole behind that smile.
She was stubborn.
Whenever she seemed strangely cheerful, there was always something behind it.
But she continued speaking, as though she hadn't heard Lawrence's inquiry at all.
"There are more than twenty hot springs. The earth has cracks that vent steam, and it seems like the end of the world—just like it did in my time. The one annoying bit was that the spot that I'd found and only I knew about seems to have been discovered—even though it was a hot spring hidden in a canyon so narrow I had to take this form just to fit."
| So when it came to why the people of Nyohhira would go to such lengths, it was because finding such a hot spring was part of what they lived for.
In such circumstances, it would have been discovered sooner or later.
Holo seemed exceedingly frustrated, but Lawrence could tell it was an act.
She had let something important slip.
The mountains of Roef were not a good place.
It had been carelessness.
That much was obvious.
Had the boatmen mentioned what awaited those who headed up the Roef River?
One had said that there was a mine that produced copper-like water from a spring and that there was a town with copper plentiful enough to build copper-plated stills.
And Ragusa was carrying large amounts of copper coin down the Roam River.
What was needed to make those coins?
Copper obviously—and large amounts of fuel wood or the black stone known as coal.
Holo had been talking to the troupe of performers, so if they were speaking ill of an energetic mining town, it wasn't because the town was in decline.
It might mean that the place was unfit for human habitation.
Clear-cut forests, poisoned rivers.
Floods and landslides were common, and it would attract men trying to get rich quickly.
The performer girl may have meant that the quality of the patrons was poor, but the quality of a town's population was determined by its environment.
It was even written in scripture that a bad tree would produce only bad fruit but that a good tree could produce only fine fruit.
"Heh. This won't do. At this rate, I won't be able to hide anything from you," said Holo suddenly, just as Lawrence was wondering what he should say.
"There have always been fools who dig into the mountains. Time passes and men grow more numerous. I was prepared for that much."
Lawrence very much doubted these were her true feelings.
After so many centuries in Pasloe, Holo had to know—she had to know that the wisdom of humanity had progressed to where some now conceitedly thought they had no need for gods.
"Still, know this—," Holo said, taking careful step-hops as though crossing a creek via stepping-stones. She took one step, then another, and on the third step, she looked back at Lawrence. "This is my problem to worry over. When I see you make that face, I can't worry about it properly."
It would have been easy to simply tell her, "Why, the nerve!"
But Lawrence could hardly do so.
Holo couldn't very well help but worry, and if they found Yoitsu in ruins, she might come apart entirely.
And yet she herself understood that her concern was nothing to be ashamed about—that it was entirely natural.
Lawrence reevaluated his thoughts.
Holo was not the girl she appeared to be.
"When the time comes, I may need to borrow your chest to cry upon. That's one promise I'll need from you."
When he heard such words from a girl like Holo, Lawrence had no choice but to tell her she could rely on him.
Holo chuckled. "But then what of you? Did you hear any interesting talk?"
Led on by Holo, Lawrence started to walk, looking over at the circle of men as something in their conversation caused a stir.
"...Let's see. I seem to remember Ragusa saying something..."
Perhaps because of the state of his liquor-muddled mind when he'd talked to Ragusa, the memory did not come instantly. He tapped his head several times, annoyed at the failure of his ledger-like memory for recalling the things he'd seen and heard.
"I believe...it was something funny...but not really funny...Something like that."
"About the boy?" Holo suggested. Col was still off staring at the ground there in the moonlight.
The memory came drifting back to Lawrence.
"Oh yes! Or...was it?"
"Well, that's all you and that boatman would have to talk about, is it not? And you're competing over him, too."
"I'm not competing over anything. But Ragusa really seems to want the boy."
Lawrence had a vision of the fierce attack that would happen when they got to Kerube.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | So when it came to why the people of Nyohhira would go to such lengths, it was because finding such a hot spring was part of what they lived for.
In such circumstances, it would have been discovered sooner or later.
Holo seemed exceedingly frustrated, but Lawrence could tell it was an act.
She had let something important slip.
The mountains of Roef were not a good place.
It had been carelessness.
That much was obvious.
Had the boatmen mentioned what awaited those who headed up the Roef River?
One had said that there was a mine that produced copper-like water from a spring and that there was a town with copper plentiful enough to build copper-plated stills.
And Ragusa was carrying large amounts of copper coin down the Roam River.
What was needed to make those coins?
Copper obviously—and large amounts of fuel wood or the black stone known as coal.
Holo had been talking to the troupe of performers, so if they were speaking ill of an energetic mining town, it wasn't because the town was in decline.
It might mean that the place was unfit for human habitation.
Clear-cut forests, poisoned rivers.
Floods and landslides were common, and it would attract men trying to get rich quickly.
The performer girl may have meant that the quality of the patrons was poor, but the quality of a town's population was determined by its environment.
It was even written in scripture that a bad tree would produce only bad fruit but that a good tree could produce only fine fruit.
"Heh. This won't do. At this rate, I won't be able to hide anything from you," said Holo suddenly, just as Lawrence was wondering what he should say.
"There have always been fools who dig into the mountains. Time passes and men grow more numerous. I was prepared for that much."
Lawrence very much doubted these were her true feelings.
After so many centuries in Pasloe, Holo had to know—she had to know that the wisdom of humanity had progressed to where some now conceitedly thought they had no need for gods.
"Still, know this—," Holo said, taking careful step-hops as though crossing a creek via stepping-stones. She took one step, then another, and on the third step, she looked back at Lawrence. "This is my problem to worry over. When I see you make that face, I can't worry about it properly."
It would have been easy to simply tell her, "Why, the nerve!"
But Lawrence could hardly do so.
Holo couldn't very well help but worry, and if they found Yoitsu in ruins, she might come apart entirely.
And yet she herself understood that her concern was nothing to be ashamed about—that it was entirely natural.
Lawrence reevaluated his thoughts.
Holo was not the girl she appeared to be.
"When the time comes, I may need to borrow your chest to cry upon. That's one promise I'll need from you."
When he heard such words from a girl like Holo, Lawrence had no choice but to tell her she could rely on him.
Holo chuckled. "But then what of you? Did you hear any interesting talk?"
Led on by Holo, Lawrence started to walk, looking over at the circle of men as something in their conversation caused a stir.
"...Let's see. I seem to remember Ragusa saying something..."
Perhaps because of the state of his liquor-muddled mind when he'd talked to Ragusa, the memory did not come instantly. He tapped his head several times, annoyed at the failure of his ledger-like memory for recalling the things he'd seen and heard.
"I believe...it was something funny...but not really funny...Something like that."
"About the boy?" Holo suggested. Col was still off staring at the ground there in the moonlight.
The memory came drifting back to Lawrence.
"Oh yes! Or...was it?"
"Well, that's all you and that boatman would have to talk about, is it not? And you're competing over him, too."
"I'm not competing over anything. But Ragusa really seems to want the boy."
Lawrence had a vision of the fierce attack that would happen when they got to Kerube.
| Holo looked up at him as he mused.
"And what of you?"
"Me? Well, I..." Lawrence prevaricated, sidestepping Holo's sharp eyes.
He wouldn't mind taking an apprentice if it was Col.
But it felt premature, and there was another reason he was being evasive.
"Back in Pasloe, I waited a long time for a suitable-looking traveler to come, but that good meeting did not come for some time. When it comes to people, well, you should trust my eye."
Lawrence noticed that somewhere along the line, Holo had taken his hand.
"And he's gotten attached to me, but worry not. He's not likely to become your enemy."
Lawrence turned definitively away and exhaled a long, deep, white breath.
Holo snickered.
Lawrence faced ahead, exasperated, but he wasn't sure if Holo realized...
Did she realize that Lawrence was suspicious of her motivations for supporting Col?
"Well, everything seems to be in order now. When I heard that ships were piling up, I expected more of a scene."
"...You were excited, then?" asked Lawrence, and Holo looked up with a complicated expression.
She neither shook her head nor nodded.
Instead, she spoke meditatively, looking off into the distance. "I did wish for a leisurely journey, but travels with you are strangely complicated—when you've time to think of foolish plans."
Lawrence counted off the days left in his travels with Holo and remembered what had happened in their journeys.
It was true that given time, he did tend to think about things.
In that case, perhaps he might as well get caught up in mad thoughts, if only for the amusement of it.
But saying such things to Holo was going too far, Lawrence thought.
So he instead incited her easily roused anger. "It's both good and bad being too clever."
Surely Holo would say this, to which he would reply that—Lawrence constructed the exchange in his mind, but Holo said nothing at all.
When he thought it strange and looked at her, he saw her furrowed brow.
"Too clever?"
Lawrence immediately knew she was not angry.
By her expression, she simply did not understand.
Which was precisely why Lawrence could not fathom the meaning of that expression.
When he faltered and his words failed him, Holo made a small sound. "Ah—"
He felt as though that was the trigger.
Lawrence saw the source of the discrepancy.
Their gazes met.
They stopped walking simultaneously, and after a short silence, what appeared on both their faces were frowns meant to hide the awkwardness they felt.
"Don't tell me you asked around about far-off places just because you were interested, and now you've gotten some strange misapprehension in your head," said Holo.
Lawrence raised his eyebrows, at a loss for words.
Naturally, even as he hoped that his worst fears would prove baseless, he had confidence that they would be borne out.
"'Tis no wonder you made such a strange face back then. Well, you can keep your worries to yourself," said Holo forcefully.
"I could say the same thing to you. The reason you're trying to force Col off on me as my apprentice is exactly the same."
This time it was Holo who drew her chin in, chastised.
It was just as he thought.
She might have saved Col out of kindness, but her strange fawning over him and her insistence that Lawrence take him on as an apprentice was for another reason entirely.
So what happened if he applied his new knowledge that when Holo did something, it was for his own sake?
Before long, he saw that his worries about Holo were the same as hers.
They glared at each other, both trying to look firm.
"You're the weak one, and I've got to protect you," they each insisted.
It was a foolish conversation—they were both thinking the same thing.
"Honestly...so what was it you wanted to say?" said Lawrence with a little sigh, giving up on the staring match. Holo sighed as well.
"When we've time to think of foolish things, it seems neither of us can think of anything good."
"Unaware of our own faults."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo looked up at him as he mused.
"And what of you?"
"Me? Well, I..." Lawrence prevaricated, sidestepping Holo's sharp eyes.
He wouldn't mind taking an apprentice if it was Col.
But it felt premature, and there was another reason he was being evasive.
"Back in Pasloe, I waited a long time for a suitable-looking traveler to come, but that good meeting did not come for some time. When it comes to people, well, you should trust my eye."
Lawrence noticed that somewhere along the line, Holo had taken his hand.
"And he's gotten attached to me, but worry not. He's not likely to become your enemy."
Lawrence turned definitively away and exhaled a long, deep, white breath.
Holo snickered.
Lawrence faced ahead, exasperated, but he wasn't sure if Holo realized...
Did she realize that Lawrence was suspicious of her motivations for supporting Col?
"Well, everything seems to be in order now. When I heard that ships were piling up, I expected more of a scene."
"...You were excited, then?" asked Lawrence, and Holo looked up with a complicated expression.
She neither shook her head nor nodded.
Instead, she spoke meditatively, looking off into the distance. "I did wish for a leisurely journey, but travels with you are strangely complicated—when you've time to think of foolish plans."
Lawrence counted off the days left in his travels with Holo and remembered what had happened in their journeys.
It was true that given time, he did tend to think about things.
In that case, perhaps he might as well get caught up in mad thoughts, if only for the amusement of it.
But saying such things to Holo was going too far, Lawrence thought.
So he instead incited her easily roused anger. "It's both good and bad being too clever."
Surely Holo would say this, to which he would reply that—Lawrence constructed the exchange in his mind, but Holo said nothing at all.
When he thought it strange and looked at her, he saw her furrowed brow.
"Too clever?"
Lawrence immediately knew she was not angry.
By her expression, she simply did not understand.
Which was precisely why Lawrence could not fathom the meaning of that expression.
When he faltered and his words failed him, Holo made a small sound. "Ah—"
He felt as though that was the trigger.
Lawrence saw the source of the discrepancy.
Their gazes met.
They stopped walking simultaneously, and after a short silence, what appeared on both their faces were frowns meant to hide the awkwardness they felt.
"Don't tell me you asked around about far-off places just because you were interested, and now you've gotten some strange misapprehension in your head," said Holo.
Lawrence raised his eyebrows, at a loss for words.
Naturally, even as he hoped that his worst fears would prove baseless, he had confidence that they would be borne out.
"'Tis no wonder you made such a strange face back then. Well, you can keep your worries to yourself," said Holo forcefully.
"I could say the same thing to you. The reason you're trying to force Col off on me as my apprentice is exactly the same."
This time it was Holo who drew her chin in, chastised.
It was just as he thought.
She might have saved Col out of kindness, but her strange fawning over him and her insistence that Lawrence take him on as an apprentice was for another reason entirely.
So what happened if he applied his new knowledge that when Holo did something, it was for his own sake?
Before long, he saw that his worries about Holo were the same as hers.
They glared at each other, both trying to look firm.
"You're the weak one, and I've got to protect you," they each insisted.
It was a foolish conversation—they were both thinking the same thing.
"Honestly...so what was it you wanted to say?" said Lawrence with a little sigh, giving up on the staring match. Holo sighed as well.
"When we've time to think of foolish things, it seems neither of us can think of anything good."
"Unaware of our own faults."
| "Not thinking about anything is another problem, I think...it is difficult."
And all the more so when Lawrence realized that this was the height of that joy.
The future would be darker than this. Even if they were worried about each other, if they continued to talk of these things, no cheer would come of it.
"Come, let's stop talking of this," said Holo, apparently having come to the same conclusion.
Lawrence agreed.
"Well, we've gone to the trouble of waking up at this hour," said Holo. "It's cold, so let's go talk to the lad and have some wine."
"More drinking?" said Lawrence, flabbergasted, but Holo walked ahead of him, and her only reply was the twitching of her ears underneath her hood.
"Could these people not sleep in a more orderly fashion? They are in the way; 'tis frustrating."
The sleeping figures were scattered here and there as though they had fallen at random out of the sky, and they made it hard to walk straight across the area.
Since it was still a wide riverbank, it was all right, but if it ever became a cheap lodging house, this would surely be one of the complaints.
If they had lined up nicely, they could have stretched out their legs and there would have been room for more people to sleep, but people seemed to prefer sleeping hither and thither, their arms and legs sprawled everywhere.
It was thanks to that that Lawrence didn't know how many times he'd had an inn right before his very eyes, but spent the night under the cold sky.
Such travel memories came to Lawrence, but something nagged at him.
He looked behind him at the sleeping forms of the merchants and boatmen. Their posture. Their direction. Their number.
Glared at by Holo, Lawrence found the nagging in his mind had vanished.
"Col, m'boy," said Holo.
Col seemed as attached to Holo as she was to him, and she appeared to have taken a shine to the boy.
Be it "vixen" or "bird" or "old man," Holo essentially never called people by their names.
Lawrence found himself searching his memory for any time Holo had called him by name.
It had probably happened once or twice, but when he tried to imagine the scene, it made him feel a bit embarrassed.
"Hmm?" Holo said blankly. She had called Col's name, but the boy did not seem to have taken notice.
Lawrence and Holo looked at each other, wondering if he was asleep, then approached the crouching Col.
He didn't seem asleep—he was wrapped in Holo's robe and holding a thin stick in his hand and moving.
He seemed to be totally absorbed in whatever it was he was doing.
Holo was about to call his name again, but just then, he seemed to notice their footfalls and looked over his shoulder in alarm.
"—Whoops," said Lawrence; Holo's face was blank.
Col, for his part, seemed to have been wholly absorbed in whatever he was doing. Turning to Holo and Lawrence with a look of surprise on his face, he hastily picked something up. It made a light metallic clink, so it was presumably coin. He also tried to hide something with his feet when he stood.
Holo wasn't the only quick-witted one.
Lawrence looked at the boy, whose feet hid what looked to be like writing on the ground.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what it was, Col quickly scuffed and erased it, then spoke.
"Wh-what is wrong?"
Going by the feel of Holo's hand in his, Lawrence got the feeling that Holo wanted to say, "That's my line!" He was quite sure it wasn't just his imagination.
It was obvious Col was hiding something.
"Mm. We woke up at this strange hour and thought you might drink with us."
The unpleasant face Col made was certainly not a joke.
Not long ago, Ragusa had forced the boy to drink, and Col had passed out.
Holo chuckled. "'Tis a jest. Are you hungry?"
"Er...a, a little."
Col had drawn a small circle.
It seemed he had drawn several such figures, but there was no way to know for sure.
"Mm. Come, you—," said Holo to Lawrence. "We have plenty of provisions, do we not?"
"Hmm? Oh, well, we have some, yes."
"But?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Not thinking about anything is another problem, I think...it is difficult."
And all the more so when Lawrence realized that this was the height of that joy.
The future would be darker than this. Even if they were worried about each other, if they continued to talk of these things, no cheer would come of it.
"Come, let's stop talking of this," said Holo, apparently having come to the same conclusion.
Lawrence agreed.
"Well, we've gone to the trouble of waking up at this hour," said Holo. "It's cold, so let's go talk to the lad and have some wine."
"More drinking?" said Lawrence, flabbergasted, but Holo walked ahead of him, and her only reply was the twitching of her ears underneath her hood.
"Could these people not sleep in a more orderly fashion? They are in the way; 'tis frustrating."
The sleeping figures were scattered here and there as though they had fallen at random out of the sky, and they made it hard to walk straight across the area.
Since it was still a wide riverbank, it was all right, but if it ever became a cheap lodging house, this would surely be one of the complaints.
If they had lined up nicely, they could have stretched out their legs and there would have been room for more people to sleep, but people seemed to prefer sleeping hither and thither, their arms and legs sprawled everywhere.
It was thanks to that that Lawrence didn't know how many times he'd had an inn right before his very eyes, but spent the night under the cold sky.
Such travel memories came to Lawrence, but something nagged at him.
He looked behind him at the sleeping forms of the merchants and boatmen. Their posture. Their direction. Their number.
Glared at by Holo, Lawrence found the nagging in his mind had vanished.
"Col, m'boy," said Holo.
Col seemed as attached to Holo as she was to him, and she appeared to have taken a shine to the boy.
Be it "vixen" or "bird" or "old man," Holo essentially never called people by their names.
Lawrence found himself searching his memory for any time Holo had called him by name.
It had probably happened once or twice, but when he tried to imagine the scene, it made him feel a bit embarrassed.
"Hmm?" Holo said blankly. She had called Col's name, but the boy did not seem to have taken notice.
Lawrence and Holo looked at each other, wondering if he was asleep, then approached the crouching Col.
He didn't seem asleep—he was wrapped in Holo's robe and holding a thin stick in his hand and moving.
He seemed to be totally absorbed in whatever it was he was doing.
Holo was about to call his name again, but just then, he seemed to notice their footfalls and looked over his shoulder in alarm.
"—Whoops," said Lawrence; Holo's face was blank.
Col, for his part, seemed to have been wholly absorbed in whatever he was doing. Turning to Holo and Lawrence with a look of surprise on his face, he hastily picked something up. It made a light metallic clink, so it was presumably coin. He also tried to hide something with his feet when he stood.
Holo wasn't the only quick-witted one.
Lawrence looked at the boy, whose feet hid what looked to be like writing on the ground.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what it was, Col quickly scuffed and erased it, then spoke.
"Wh-what is wrong?"
Going by the feel of Holo's hand in his, Lawrence got the feeling that Holo wanted to say, "That's my line!" He was quite sure it wasn't just his imagination.
It was obvious Col was hiding something.
"Mm. We woke up at this strange hour and thought you might drink with us."
The unpleasant face Col made was certainly not a joke.
Not long ago, Ragusa had forced the boy to drink, and Col had passed out.
Holo chuckled. "'Tis a jest. Are you hungry?"
"Er...a, a little."
Col had drawn a small circle.
It seemed he had drawn several such figures, but there was no way to know for sure.
"Mm. Come, you—," said Holo to Lawrence. "We have plenty of provisions, do we not?"
"Hmm? Oh, well, we have some, yes."
"But?"
| Holo lightly smacked Lawrence's shoulder. "Well, that decides it, then. Now, 'twould be nicer to be near the fire..."
Between the dancing and the drunken staggering, Holo and Lawrence had forgotten where their blanket had been laid.
They both looked at Col, prompting him to ask, "Don't you remember?" in a slightly worn-out voice.
If Col was to indeed join Lawrence and Holo's travels as an apprentice, this sort of exchange seemed likely to happen every day.
Holo giggled. "We were both drunk, after all. I am sorry, but could you fetch it for us?"
"Understood," said Col and trotted off.
Lawrence and Holo watched his figure recede together, and something about the scene was far from disagreeable to him.
Part of that was of course because Holo was right next to him, but she seemed to agree and leaned lightly against him.
Lawrence knew one word to describe the scene.
But if he spoke it, he would lose.
"You—," Holo began.
"Mm?"
Holo did not immediately continue, instead shaking her head.
"Never mind."
"All right, then."
Lawrence, of course, knew what Holo was trying to say.
And yet he got the feeling he shouldn't be thinking about it.
"By the way—," said Lawrence.
"Mm?"
"Col's hometown, apparently it's called Pinu. Have you heard of it?"
Col seemed to have accidentally stepped on one of the sleeping figures in his haste.
Lawrence smiled as he watched the boy apologize and squeezed Holo's hand a bit.
"What did you just say?" Holo's voice was not her ordinary one.
Or so Lawrence thought, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes seemed to be smiling.
"Just kidding," she finished.
"...Hey."
Holo giggled. "Am I supposed to know everything now?"
She had a point, but Holo did like to pretend ignorance of important matters and treat outrageous things as if they were nothing.
If he started doubting her, there would be no end to it, but the truth was they had come far enough on this journey that making such a joke at this point was rather dubious.
Lawrence watched Holo snicker at Col's now-careful walking, and Holo sighed, not looking in Lawrence's direction.
"I suppose I shall be more temperate next time."
"...I would certainly appreciate that," said Lawrence just as Col returned.
"Did something happen?" he asked.
"Hmm? No, not especially. We were just talking about your hometown."
"I see..." came Col's tired reply; he was probably thinking that such a place wasn't interesting enough to make a good conversation topic.
Most people who had even a little bit of pride in their hometown would have jumped at the chance to talk about it.
"Pinu, was it? Does your village have any legends?"
"Legends?" Col asked as he handed over their things to Holo.
"Aye. Surely you have one or two."
"Er, well..." Perhaps he hesitated because of the suddenness of the question. Even the most meager village had many legends and superstitions.
"When you talked to me," Lawrence said, "you said it was a problem when the Church came in, didn't you? Which means that region, Pinu included, had other gods."
Hearing it explained thus, Col seemed to understand.
He nodded and spoke. "Ah, yes. Pinu is the name of a great frog god. The elder claims to have seen it with his own eyes."
"Oh ho," said Holo, her interest piqued.
The three of them sat down, with Lawrence and Holo taking the wine and giving bread and cheese to Col.
"The place the village is in now isn't where it used to be—that land vanished long ago in a great landslide and wound up at the bottom of a lake that was created in a flood, it's said. Right after that landslide, the elder—who was still a child then and helping to hunt fox in the mountains—apparently saw it. The great frog was blocking the floodwaters from flowing down the valley that led directly to the village."
Stories of gods that protected villages from great disasters existed all over.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo lightly smacked Lawrence's shoulder. "Well, that decides it, then. Now, 'twould be nicer to be near the fire..."
Between the dancing and the drunken staggering, Holo and Lawrence had forgotten where their blanket had been laid.
They both looked at Col, prompting him to ask, "Don't you remember?" in a slightly worn-out voice.
If Col was to indeed join Lawrence and Holo's travels as an apprentice, this sort of exchange seemed likely to happen every day.
Holo giggled. "We were both drunk, after all. I am sorry, but could you fetch it for us?"
"Understood," said Col and trotted off.
Lawrence and Holo watched his figure recede together, and something about the scene was far from disagreeable to him.
Part of that was of course because Holo was right next to him, but she seemed to agree and leaned lightly against him.
Lawrence knew one word to describe the scene.
But if he spoke it, he would lose.
"You—," Holo began.
"Mm?"
Holo did not immediately continue, instead shaking her head.
"Never mind."
"All right, then."
Lawrence, of course, knew what Holo was trying to say.
And yet he got the feeling he shouldn't be thinking about it.
"By the way—," said Lawrence.
"Mm?"
"Col's hometown, apparently it's called Pinu. Have you heard of it?"
Col seemed to have accidentally stepped on one of the sleeping figures in his haste.
Lawrence smiled as he watched the boy apologize and squeezed Holo's hand a bit.
"What did you just say?" Holo's voice was not her ordinary one.
Or so Lawrence thought, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes seemed to be smiling.
"Just kidding," she finished.
"...Hey."
Holo giggled. "Am I supposed to know everything now?"
She had a point, but Holo did like to pretend ignorance of important matters and treat outrageous things as if they were nothing.
If he started doubting her, there would be no end to it, but the truth was they had come far enough on this journey that making such a joke at this point was rather dubious.
Lawrence watched Holo snicker at Col's now-careful walking, and Holo sighed, not looking in Lawrence's direction.
"I suppose I shall be more temperate next time."
"...I would certainly appreciate that," said Lawrence just as Col returned.
"Did something happen?" he asked.
"Hmm? No, not especially. We were just talking about your hometown."
"I see..." came Col's tired reply; he was probably thinking that such a place wasn't interesting enough to make a good conversation topic.
Most people who had even a little bit of pride in their hometown would have jumped at the chance to talk about it.
"Pinu, was it? Does your village have any legends?"
"Legends?" Col asked as he handed over their things to Holo.
"Aye. Surely you have one or two."
"Er, well..." Perhaps he hesitated because of the suddenness of the question. Even the most meager village had many legends and superstitions.
"When you talked to me," Lawrence said, "you said it was a problem when the Church came in, didn't you? Which means that region, Pinu included, had other gods."
Hearing it explained thus, Col seemed to understand.
He nodded and spoke. "Ah, yes. Pinu is the name of a great frog god. The elder claims to have seen it with his own eyes."
"Oh ho," said Holo, her interest piqued.
The three of them sat down, with Lawrence and Holo taking the wine and giving bread and cheese to Col.
"The place the village is in now isn't where it used to be—that land vanished long ago in a great landslide and wound up at the bottom of a lake that was created in a flood, it's said. Right after that landslide, the elder—who was still a child then and helping to hunt fox in the mountains—apparently saw it. The great frog was blocking the floodwaters from flowing down the valley that led directly to the village."
Stories of gods that protected villages from great disasters existed all over.
| Stories of gods and spirits were not mere fairy tales.
If the stories were even now still trusted, the Church's efforts were pointless.
"So Lord Pinu blocked the floodwaters, and as he held them back, the elders came down the mountain and ran to the village to warn everyone, who barely escaped with their lives."
Once Col had finished the telling, he seemed to realize he had gotten a bit excited.
He looked around, wondering if his voice had been too loud.
"Hmm. So your god was a mere frog, then. What of, say, wolves?" Holo couldn't help herself apparently.
Thus asked, Col's answer was quick. "Oh yes, there are many."
Holo nearly dropped the jerky she had taken out of the sack, but she managed to feign composure as she put it in her mouth.
Lawrence pretended not to notice her trembling hand.
"But there are more of those in Rupi. I told Master Lawrence of that place—it's where the skilled fox and owl hunters are."
"Ah, the village that the Church marched into, yes?"
Col nodded with a rueful grin, because it was that event that had been the cause of Col's journey in the first place.
"There is a legend that says that the ancestor of Rupi's people was a wolf."
The part of the jerky that stuck out of Holo's mouth twitched impressively.
Lawrence was impressed she hadn't dropped it.
But then he thought back to the pagan town of Kumersun, where he'd talked to Diana the chronicler woman.
She had spoken of a human and a god becoming mates.
He had asked for Holo, who was terrified of loneliness, but now this all took on a slightly different meaning.
As Lawrence hoped he wouldn't be teased too much by Holo for this, Col continued. "This is just talk I heard later, but apparently the Church men who came to Rupi originally had that wolf-god as their goal."
"The...god?"
"Yes. But there are no gods in Rupi. According to the stories, they died."
Lawrence didn't understand.
If the legend held that the gods were dead, it was strange that the Church would come looking for them. It would have made more sense for the Church to have come because the gods were dead, as that would make the propagation of its teachings easier.
And the high priest that also served as the Church troop's commander had pulled out of the area when his health failed.
It was a strangely halfhearted engagement.
It almost sounded like the Church had only come in search of something.
That was when Lawrence realized.
The men of the Church had come looking for something—they had, all the way out to a remote village, whose god had already died.
"Long ago, the story has it that the god of Rupi returned to the village after being terribly injured, then died there. As thanks, it left its right foreleg and its offspring there. Its offspring were accepted into the village, and it's said that the right foreleg protected the whole area from plagues and disasters. And the Church men were looking for that foreleg or some such."
Col's relating of the story made it sound like a fairy tale; he did not seem to really believe it himself.
It was not uncommon for people to consider their home village's legends rather banal after having traveled and seen some of the breadth of the world, even if they'd never doubted those stories before.
"That is what they say, but our village fell into a lake after a landslide, so it's a bit doubtful whether the god of Pinu really left its leg there," Col said with a smile.
Having been outside and gained some wisdom, it was natural that he would see the discrepancy between legends and what happened in reality.
Such experiences would serve only to shake his faith, the stories passed down in his village.
But Lawrence was the opposite.
Thanks to Holo, he now knew that such stories were no mere fairy tales.
And it was his nature as a merchant to try to incorporate this information with what he already knew.
It was enough to call up a vague and fuzzy memory.
Something he had heard from Ragusa, just before passing out drunk.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Stories of gods and spirits were not mere fairy tales.
If the stories were even now still trusted, the Church's efforts were pointless.
"So Lord Pinu blocked the floodwaters, and as he held them back, the elders came down the mountain and ran to the village to warn everyone, who barely escaped with their lives."
Once Col had finished the telling, he seemed to realize he had gotten a bit excited.
He looked around, wondering if his voice had been too loud.
"Hmm. So your god was a mere frog, then. What of, say, wolves?" Holo couldn't help herself apparently.
Thus asked, Col's answer was quick. "Oh yes, there are many."
Holo nearly dropped the jerky she had taken out of the sack, but she managed to feign composure as she put it in her mouth.
Lawrence pretended not to notice her trembling hand.
"But there are more of those in Rupi. I told Master Lawrence of that place—it's where the skilled fox and owl hunters are."
"Ah, the village that the Church marched into, yes?"
Col nodded with a rueful grin, because it was that event that had been the cause of Col's journey in the first place.
"There is a legend that says that the ancestor of Rupi's people was a wolf."
The part of the jerky that stuck out of Holo's mouth twitched impressively.
Lawrence was impressed she hadn't dropped it.
But then he thought back to the pagan town of Kumersun, where he'd talked to Diana the chronicler woman.
She had spoken of a human and a god becoming mates.
He had asked for Holo, who was terrified of loneliness, but now this all took on a slightly different meaning.
As Lawrence hoped he wouldn't be teased too much by Holo for this, Col continued. "This is just talk I heard later, but apparently the Church men who came to Rupi originally had that wolf-god as their goal."
"The...god?"
"Yes. But there are no gods in Rupi. According to the stories, they died."
Lawrence didn't understand.
If the legend held that the gods were dead, it was strange that the Church would come looking for them. It would have made more sense for the Church to have come because the gods were dead, as that would make the propagation of its teachings easier.
And the high priest that also served as the Church troop's commander had pulled out of the area when his health failed.
It was a strangely halfhearted engagement.
It almost sounded like the Church had only come in search of something.
That was when Lawrence realized.
The men of the Church had come looking for something—they had, all the way out to a remote village, whose god had already died.
"Long ago, the story has it that the god of Rupi returned to the village after being terribly injured, then died there. As thanks, it left its right foreleg and its offspring there. Its offspring were accepted into the village, and it's said that the right foreleg protected the whole area from plagues and disasters. And the Church men were looking for that foreleg or some such."
Col's relating of the story made it sound like a fairy tale; he did not seem to really believe it himself.
It was not uncommon for people to consider their home village's legends rather banal after having traveled and seen some of the breadth of the world, even if they'd never doubted those stories before.
"That is what they say, but our village fell into a lake after a landslide, so it's a bit doubtful whether the god of Pinu really left its leg there," Col said with a smile.
Having been outside and gained some wisdom, it was natural that he would see the discrepancy between legends and what happened in reality.
Such experiences would serve only to shake his faith, the stories passed down in his village.
But Lawrence was the opposite.
Thanks to Holo, he now knew that such stories were no mere fairy tales.
And it was his nature as a merchant to try to incorporate this information with what he already knew.
It was enough to call up a vague and fuzzy memory.
Something he had heard from Ragusa, just before passing out drunk.
| And yet, it fit perfectly.
"So, do you doubt the legends?"
Holo immediately sensed the strange atmosphere and looked dubiously out from beneath her hood.
The boy smiled slightly. "...If you mean do I not fully believe, then yes, I doubt them. But in school, I learned a lot about reconciling the existence of gods. So it's simple. The foreleg of Rupi's god would decades ago have been..."
Col had had many experiences in his school in the south, then thinking of returning home, had found himself in this area.
Without question, it would be normal to collect stories about one's home.
Which meant that it would not be strange if Col had collected the same information as Lawrence.
The big difference between Col and Lawrence was whether or not they believed in the preposterous tales.
Lawrence did not venture to look at Holo, only taking her hand. "Treasure maps appear only once the treasure has already been stolen."
Col's eyes widened.
Then they narrowed as he smiled with faint embarrassment.
"I won't be fooled again," his face said. "Still, that can't be, can it? Buying and selling the foreleg of a god, I mean."
***
The sound of Holo breathing in.
It seemed Col did indeed have the same information as Lawrence.
Holo's hand gripped his very tightly.
In place of speech, Holo gave him a look, but Lawrence did not return it.
"Yes. The world is full of frauds and fakes."
Lesko, the town at the headwaters of the Roef River. The trading firm there had been looking for the fossilized foreleg of a wolf-god.
Based on the information Lawrence had gotten from Ragusa over drinks, it was certainly a rumor that was circulating among the boatmen.
And if Col, who'd been living on the road, had heard it, it was likely a topic of discussion at inns and taverns that attracted travelers.
The saying was "where there's smoke, there's fire," but it made more sense to ascribe the rumor to the pagan culture that suffused the northlands.
In his seven years as a traveling merchant, Lawrence had heard such tales more than a few times.
The remains of saints, the wings of angels, miraculous chalices, even the robes of God.
And they were all laughably absurd fakes.
"Um, I really don't believe any of this, you know." Col seemed to think that Lawrence's and especially Holo's silence was due to their being shocked at his naiveté. "I mean, of course I think I'd like to know for sure if it is true, but..."
His lonely smile as he said this was like that of a child who has realized the trick behind a sleight of hand.
How would he react if he knew that before his very eyes was a living relative of that same god?
Lawrence couldn't help but wonder.
But when he considered whether Holo would want to show Col her true form, he couldn't imagine it was so.
She instead looked at Col with terribly calm eyes.
"Still, if the Church really is chasing after that bone, what could they be thinking, I wonder?" said Lawrence to Holo, bringing her into the conversation.
He had noticed Holo's state, but given the topic, she must have some thoughts on the matter, he reasoned.
"What are they...thinking?"
"Right. I mean, if they're trying to find that bone because it's genuine, that would confirm the existence of the pagan gods. Surely they won't do that."
"That's true...," murmured Col, his face blank. "Now that you mention it, that is strange."
If it was real, the bone was surely from a wolf like Holo, so its size would be far from ordinary.
Lawrence's memory was a bit hazy, but he seemed to remember Ragusa saying something about a hellhound.
When they found the bone, perhaps they would simply call it something like that and make a religious proclamation of it.
If it had been a martyred saint, Lawrence could think of any number of ways to use them.
Just as Lawrence was thinking it over, Col raised his voice uncertainly.
"Ah, er, maybe—"
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Subsets and Splits